October 16, 2015 - Fuck 1040
Fuck 1040 Vista
Awesome site guys and ladies. And yes I agree with all the former and GOD forbid, current employees who work for Target: worst experience of my life. I finally left that shithole and found a new job. Thank God a better job. To begin, here’s my story, and trust me it’s unique. I used to work at the Target in Escondido, the new one at the mall. It sucked but it wasn’t the HELL HOLE PIT that I transferred to in Vista. Keep in mind that all the same fuck faces are still there, except one, who was fired before I left. (Fuck you if you’re reading this!) Lets call him Pothole Mouth (he walked around everywhere with his mouth open). This piece of shit was like a fucking cyborg with ZERO empathy: Arnold Schwarzenegger, the T-8oo version of the Terminator, who blasted everyone who had the last name of Connor on the phone book, had more feelings than this piece of shit psycho Tarbot. For my first coaching, this piece of shit scumbag actually had three of us sit on these chairs they sell with the nets in the middle, which caused our asses to sink to the floor, while he sat on a normal chair as he coached us, positioning himself over us as if he were our fucking emperor. In addition, he pointed his finger at my face, coached me in the fucking freezer having nothing to do with the fucking freezer, screamed at me for 30 minutes because I dared question his demand that all calves (backroom shit) have to be done in 25 minutes (the policy is under an hour). Wait, there’s more. One day, I was called into the office for supposedly using profanity against an employee. The reality is I called that maniac a fucking bitch when he was far enough away not to hear me, but some dumbass PUTA bitch who has worked for Target since who knows when ratted me out, and mistakenly blamed me calling her friend a fucking bitch. So I denied the whole fucking thing. But from then on I was their Target–pun intended fuckers. But wait, there’s more. One day, all the bosses were away at some big Target (circle jerk) meeting: no Pothole Mouth, no HR (Human Resources–which in Vista it should be called Human Excrements), but anyways, to continue, no Pothole Mouth, no HR, no store director, no one except the Team “Leader.” This happened to be only a week after I was coached for using profanity, yes they coached me regardless of any evidence, anyways, the Team Leader, who looks like a midget ass, sweaty, wrinkled up Keebler the fucking elf, demanded in his high pitched elfin voice–
“I want to see you in my office after work,” Keebler said.
“What’s this about?” I asked.
“We’ll discuss this in my office,” Keebler said.
I didn’t know you had an office–I thought. “Ok,” I said.
After work Keebler made every effort to run into me, making sure I didn’t get away. So, as I headed toward the time clock, Keebler, all four feet and eleven inches of him, surprised me around a corner.
“Follow me to my office,” Keebler ordered.
“Can you tell me what’s this about?” I asked.
“You know what’s this about,” Keebler said.
As I followed him, I tried to ready myself for anything. But I could not help but laugh to myself as I was being lead by a midget. When we entered “his” office, which it wasn’t, he was using Pothole Mouth’s office, he sat behind the desk.
“Have a seat,” Keebler said, voice still high and elfin. As I sat down and looked at him, I wished he had a booster seat to prop himself up a bit, he looked comical, like I was facing a wrinkled kid playing the boss, but reality kicked in and I knew that this midget elf still had some authority I think to fire me. So I refrained from offering him a couple of pillow cushions off the shelves from the sales floor.
“What’s this about?” I asked, my patients waning.
“First I want to tell you the I’ve read all the psychology books,” Keebler said, trying to raise his elfin voice as he pontificated. “And that there’s nothing that I don’t know already.”
“Ok,” I said. But I thought what an odd statement, and my eyes sharped at him because I actually read psychology. “Can you name a well known psychologist other than Sigmund Freud?” I asked.
“Do you know what a monologue is?” Keebler asked. Though it was a rhetorical question, I doubt Keebler even knew that–I smiled, thinking that he just flexed his intellectual prowess at me, then quickly stipulated that our discussion will be one sided. What a fool I a thought. He then pointed his finger at me. “Well that’s what we are going to have,” Keebler said. “And I want you to know that I will not tolerate any hostility against MY TEAM!!!” As I looked at his furious, wrinkled up elfin face, I couldn’t tell whether he was simply sweating from his forehead to his chin, or was it drool seeping out his mouth and dripping off his sagging jowls.
“I’ve went over this already with management.” I said.
“Well, I wanted to make my point sir, thank you for your time.” Keebler said.
Clearly Keebler took advantage of the fact that everyone was away. So as I left his office I thought ok, so you claim to have read “all the psychology books.” Well, let start with Psyche 101, establishing trust, or i.e., The Godfather: keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer. For six months I reshaped his impression of me, by being the yes man on almost anything. When he joked with me, even when he embarrassed me, I allowed it. I even told him a couple times, “Hey don’t worry Keebler, I don’t care that you crack jokes on me.” I even painfully defended him against others–who probably had legitimate complaints. But as a result, he became more comfortable with me, and consequently, due to his uncontrolled conscious,(he operates on feelings not reason) he basked in a state numbness, totally unaware, that I was waiting for him, to cross that line. And he did. I won’t say what he said. Because I am aware, not rash. Lastly, I informed higher management that day. And that day I applied for a job I knew I would get and did. The following day the news leaked that Keebler was written up. He wouldn’t even look at me all day. The very next day, I received the call for the interview, and that day I got the job. I then called Target and told then to go fuck themselves. Lesson is–SUCCESS IS THE BEST REVENGE. YOU GOT THAT KEEBLER!!!!!!!!!!!!!.
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They at Target, the leaders will never understand the freedom that we have. They're all about well we have to acomplish corporate orders or elese we will die. No we won't, relax you stupid old as crap manager I have at my store. Seriously, when can these a holes relax and be ok with everything and not be hey get this done, later come on I told you to get done a half hour a go. Well we just changed the whole store, things are in different places now, how do you expect me to do this and that the same time as before when we just changed the whole store of where everthing is? Cashiering is still the worst with cheap as shit customers. Coupons, cartwheel, extra cartwheel $20 off, 5 $5 off store cards! WTF? Target is going to go bankrupt in the end because of the cheap way there going to the people.
Seems like a troll post me. Keebler? As in Keebler elf? At first the way you write you come across as having low moral values when it comes to foul words and how you respect others, but near the end you're not willing to divulge what the Keebler Elf actually did to get wrote up. What's the deal? All of a sudden you gained respect for others? At the start of your interesting little story you come across as a person with little self-control, but once again towards the end you have the patience for months to execute your revenge plan.......... No one has that amount of tolerance to deploy a revenge plan, especially you.
How can you pass a moral judgement against me by reading one post? Can you define what is morality, or ethics? Wait, don't bother. Instead, I think you should correct the central problem that is evident, your writing. First, I'm certain you have the time, after all, you did reply to me for no reason but to pontificate your feelings--not reason--your feelings. But as I think about it, since your writing indicates that you're guided by your emotions, i.e., a mind set on default: subconsciously programmed by chance and not conscious thought, which incidentally (consciousness) forms my convictions, I think perhaps you should strive for another goal. Here's an idea. Perhaps you can secretly hoard your own excrements to pursue a career as a sculpture, molding your feces into abstract forms of your emotions, but never reality, for that is beyond your potential. And the (reason) is that you're trapped in a vicious cycle of absorbing something--anything--automatically from feeling something. You sordid twit.
typo: as a sculptor or sculptress: whoever you are.
This has without a doubt been the best revenge story I have ever read. Congrats on escaping Tarshit.
This is so cool, a local story. Inspired me to sign up lol. I'm gonna post my story, its short af but hey, we all hate working at target