Dun dun... Dun Dun... Dundundundundun....

(That's the theme song to Jaws, for those of you who were puzzled!)

I am sitting in one of those comfortable little blue chairs that I'm forbidden to sit in while I'm working. Like a student sent to the principal's office, I've been told that my supervisor "is busy," and that I should "wait in the chairs by the pharmacy." Okay, I guess I got the time of our meeting mixed up. It's cool.

Meanwhile I'll just sit here and reflect on my wrongdoings. Why is it that before every meeting with her, I feel the sudden and overwhelming desire to flee? I guess it's because this time, I'm supposed to meet with her and her boss. Why, you ask? No idea. If the decision has already been made to grant my request and take me off the nightshift, then why do I have to be double teamed to officially get the news? Is it because I'm getting the same treatment that the other pharmacist in my store got (she came in one day after 9 years and learned that she was being replaced)? Because if you're completely replacing me and I'm not being given an alternative placement, couldn't you just tell me that? Why all the fanfare? "Bitch, you're fired." See how easy that was?

**sigh**

I really hate to admit this, but these white people have me shook. I'm just remembering all of the little policy violations I've participated in over the last three months and wondering if they are fire-worthy. Dammit! I hate being a grown ass woman and feeling like I'm in trouble with someone! Twelve more minutes (that is if they plan to start this little Spanish Inquisition on time). More coming......