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The other day, I was asked by my CPS to go get some milk for the garage. We take it from the store, and transfer it over to petrol. I generally either get it off the shop floor, or from the back; usually, I go to the shop floor first so as to be Little Miss Helpful and ask for more to be taken on to the floor if there isn't much there.
That day was such a day. I left my trolley there, with about ten four pint bottles of milk in it (I needed twenty, but there was only about fifteen bottles left after I had taken off ten so I decided to wait for the new milk) to nip to the next aisle and ask the shelf stacker there if he could go get another trolley load of four pinters. He agrees and goes to get it.
I return to my trolley just in time to see Milk Maid #1 about to take some of the bottles out my trolley. I politely tell her that those are mine, and reserved for the garage. She bitches back, saying that the milk is for paying customers and not the petrol station. (Where does she think the milk sold at the petrol station comes from? Timbuctoo?
) I tell her, again very politely, that a collegue has just gone to bring in a full trolley load of milk and he will be there in a minute.
Milk Maid #2 then chimes in, saying that I should have gone to get the milk. Um, hello? It's not my job. He works in Dairy, he gets milk. I work in Petrol. I am not allowed to just head to the milk fridge and bring out a trolley. I tell her this, and she gives me a cat butt face. Luckily, before the Milk Maids could regroup for further bitchery, the shelf stacker arrives with a trolley load of milk. I take another ten bottles and quietly withdraw.
I'll never understand why people just can't understand that firstly, I am ordered to go and collect milk off the shop floor; and second, there is plenty there for all of us. Seeing as both old biddies were unlikely to be needing seven four pint bottles apiece, there was already enough for them to have their milk even before the shelf stacker brought in a fresh load. -.-
That day was such a day. I left my trolley there, with about ten four pint bottles of milk in it (I needed twenty, but there was only about fifteen bottles left after I had taken off ten so I decided to wait for the new milk) to nip to the next aisle and ask the shelf stacker there if he could go get another trolley load of four pinters. He agrees and goes to get it.
I return to my trolley just in time to see Milk Maid #1 about to take some of the bottles out my trolley. I politely tell her that those are mine, and reserved for the garage. She bitches back, saying that the milk is for paying customers and not the petrol station. (Where does she think the milk sold at the petrol station comes from? Timbuctoo?
) I tell her, again very politely, that a collegue has just gone to bring in a full trolley load of milk and he will be there in a minute.Milk Maid #2 then chimes in, saying that I should have gone to get the milk. Um, hello? It's not my job. He works in Dairy, he gets milk. I work in Petrol. I am not allowed to just head to the milk fridge and bring out a trolley. I tell her this, and she gives me a cat butt face. Luckily, before the Milk Maids could regroup for further bitchery, the shelf stacker arrives with a trolley load of milk. I take another ten bottles and quietly withdraw.
I'll never understand why people just can't understand that firstly, I am ordered to go and collect milk off the shop floor; and second, there is plenty there for all of us. Seeing as both old biddies were unlikely to be needing seven four pint bottles apiece, there was already enough for them to have their milk even before the shelf stacker brought in a fresh load. -.-
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