Kay...enough already...dang !
Rain...hope that goes away soon !
Debi, it's not the kind of place where you can "learn around" your boss ?
I see my boss at most once or twice a month. The rest of the time it is me, myself, and I doing the job. If I call him, I usually get his voicemail and if I am lucky he will call me back the same day.
I basically have a list of things I have to do to get the local grocery store's floor clean. Dust mop, run the electric scrubber, buff the floor and edge mop. Also, sweep the back room (where they store goods that can't go on the shelves yet), moved stuff off of the floor so I can clean underneath individual stands and whatnot.
The problem is, I have from 6 to 7 to clock in. I usually clock in around 630p because I have to feed my kids and whatnot. Which is fine, from my understanding. However, the store manager (who is my husbands boss and loves to make his and my life as awful as possible) won't let me buff until 850p and no mopping is allowed before all the customers are out of the store and the doors are locked, and I am not allowed to touch any of her stuff on the floor other than the mats in the produce section. She also insists that I be completely done for the night by the time the shift manager is done with their paperwork and stuff. And under NO CIRCUMSTANCES am I or anyone else to be in the store after 930p. So needless to say, some

ain't getting done. It doesn't help that when I run out of propane for the buffer my boss can take UP TO A WEEK to bring me more. And he's supossed to be there for the first hour of my shift and the last hour of my shift. He never is. So it goes against MY SCORE.
I explained to him about the mopping situation, and he flat out told me to tell my husband's boss that I have to stay and do this stuff, so she will just have to let her staff and shift managers stay late so I can get it all done. She is constantly griping about how if people stay late it comes out of her paycheck. Plus, the last time I stayed a mere fifteen minutes late, she called my house at 7 in the morning, not to talk to me about it, but to

at my husband for letting me keep working past 930. She refuses to directly talk to me or my manager, and he refuses to directly talk to her and I am getting

tired of playing monkey in the middle with these too. They act worse than my mother and birth father ever did to each other; those two could cuss up a blue storm to each other, but at least they talked! *headdesk*
Sorry my rant was so long, but between that, the friend dying and the muzak's song list last night, I just really had the urge to feel my lung cells die a little bit so I wouldn't go into a panic attack/break down crying.