I punch in and see Amy and Mireya chatting it up with some on-car supervisor. Can't remember now if it was Balde or Anctil. Don't matter. As I walk past, I wave to Amy, 'cause we get along real bad-ass, even though we hardly see each other.

"Oh, hey!" she exclaims with a grin, and Mireya looks over.

"Are you Chris? You're the International?"

I nod. No shit, and she knows it. (We've met before, on various occasions.) And "the International?" What the fuck? What am I, an animal? I dunno, I can't stand Mireya. She's kinda snobby, and thinks anyone who works outside an office isn't worth her frickin' time. Kiss it, bitch.

"Ray wants to talk to you," she says, trying to hide a smug smile (and failing miserably). "He's upstairs."

"Oh, okay," I say brightly and grin. "Let me just go drop off my stuff in the back and I'll be right over." 'Cause really, what was I supposed to do? Act intimidated? I guess so, 'cause she seemed a wee bit disappointed that I didn't buckle. I'm walking over to our area and pass by Clerical to do so. Mel sees me and waves, beautiful smile on her face, bright as the sun. (Debbie says Mel's got the most wonderful smile at UPS, and I agree.) "Hey! How've you been? How's the PM?" she calls over.

I pause to answer, but before I even get a chance to open my mouth, Roli and Silvia see me. "Hey!" Roli barks, "Boss wants to talk to you!" Silvia rapidly echoes. "Ray wants to talk to you!"

"I know," I call back with a slight nod, and before I can even go on to explain myself, they both yell out: "NOW!"

Mel gives me a bewildered, slightly annoyed look, and I roll my eyes. "Upstairs!" Silvia commands again, which just makes the hairs on the back of my neck bristle some more. I swear, I have never had anything against that woman until today. I've met her before, when she'd work a bit late and stay until the Local Sort began. We'd share an office, and we'd chat every now and again. And she can be really nice, believe me. I guess just as a boss she's a total cunt. Maybe she only respected me because she wasn't "in charge" of my sorry ass, so to speak. But she's been moved up in rank over Anctil, so now she's in charge of the AM shift, from what I'm aware of. Perhaps it got to her head, or maybe it's the stress that comes with the job, I dunno. Or like I said, maybe I just never knew what she was like as a boss. Pity.

[Argh, my contacts are starting to fuzz out! They're those soft-lens type that have to be changed out every month or so, but alas, I am cheap. I've been wearing these bitching for going on two months now.]

So I head over to Ray's office with my backpack and all my crap. Pain in my nutsack, I swear. I purposely make a big show of dumping all my junk on a palette right before I head upstairs. I go to THE BOSS'S OFFICE and knock. He tells me to go in, I go in. We talk. I leave. BIG. FUCKIN'. DEAL.

Okay, here's what the hoobaloo was all about:

My hours. (Surprise of all surprises, no?) "I just can't have you working ten hours in one day," he tells me. But I'm covering for Zamira. We had a shitload of work. I told him so. Apparantly, he doesn't give a shit.

Now, he was very polite. He didn't yell, spoke very softly, and... what's a good word for it? Fluidly. Reminded me of Stan Hansen, and all the other bosses I've had over the years (not many, but they add up). Managers at UPS will kiss your ass so bad...! "If it were up to me, I'd write you a blank check because I know you work so hard!" Really. He said that. Those exact words. And the reason it's so annoying is because they're never up-front with you. Always giving you the run-around, blaming the other manager guy, or a supervisor. No, of course there're no complaints about my work, it's just that I somehow have to figure out a way to cram all of it into my hours or maybe, if I can find it in my heart to do so, 'cause obviously I'm that great an all-mighty octopus that I can handle it, I could maybe do it in even fewer hours than allowed? And, oh, don't worry, I'm gonna give your immediate bosses a strict talking-down to! They need to let you do your job! This whole situation is their fault. So carry-on, soldier, just, you know, keep it to no overtime. Poor me, my managerial ass is getting heat from corporate. Feel for me! Do you have any idea how much ass I had to kiss to get off the hook because of your hours?! Yeah, woe is me and shit.

I got the distinct impression of a snake charmer, for some reason. Some dumbass in a diaper and a cloth wrapped around his head (maybe I'm thinking of Disney's Aladdin here), whistling a tune out of a pipe, trying to keep the wild, ferocious cobra at bay and lulled into stupor with his pretty sounds. (Notice how I conveniently just compared myself to a bad-ass killer cobra.) Everyone under Ribelin, however, is nothing but a flea circus. He says jump, they ask how high... after they've already bounced all over the place. And they're still jumping as they ask! "Oh! Can we kiss your ass? Please! Can we lick it clean? You'll never need toilet paper again!"

Really, they're so exaggerated. The way Silvia and Roli yelled, you'd think Ribelin was ready to eat my face alive or something. They were more worked up over the whole thing than even he was. They give his every command, or even suggestion so much importance and dire urgency. They sicken me.