What is it about Mondays that keeps them living up to the dread they ensue on a Sunday night? This morning a new employee started work in my department. She's sweet and a little nervous, so I wanted to make the day a smooth one for her. Not even an hour into the day, however, the resident bitch with whom I've been able to get along so far decided I was going on her shit list for not following up on one file from Friday. ONE FILE. This gal is severely unhappy and it seems her personal mission to make everyone around her as unhappy as she is. Today, I was her target.

I just don't get how I could've gone from seemingly one who could do no wrong on Friday afternoon, to completely incompetent in her eyes before 9:30 on Monday morning. She is perpetuating the Mortgage Broker is a Bastard stereotype. And the thing is, she's not even a broker herself -- she's an assistant. I like the broker she works for. How he can put up with her constant crabbiness is beyond me. This just makes me remember I hate the fact that I'm settling for this job when I really want to be doing something entirely different.

So now, the poor new girl -- who'd heard horror stories about our company -- was witness to the aftermath of the argument between me and The Crabby Wench this morning. Poor girl. Let's hope she comes back tomorrow.

In other, happier, news... Non and I registered this weekend. We were all excited -- giddy even -- as we walked into our first store, Williams Sonoma. We felt special and excited at the prospect of using the scanning gun to pick out anything and everything we've been wanting but can't afford. We walked in, and were immediately greeted by a pleasant-looking woman who bid us hello, and who had very unpleasant-looking brown teeth.

"Hi! We're here to register!"

Non and I exchange giddy glances as the smile quickly faded from Browntooth's lips.

"On a Saturday"? she said, exasperatedly.

I was taken aback, and, truth be told, sort of confused. I scanned the store and found no more than ten customers milling around -- 2 customers for every employee.

"Um, yeah. We're here to register... on a Saturday. I wasn't aware we needed to make an appointment."

"No, you don't need to make an appointment," she said, any trace of perkiness in her face and voice long gone. "Well, I can't leave this area of the store. Just go up to the register and tell them you need to register."

After talking to another unhelpful sales associate, we finally found someone to help us. Then, we scanned. We scanned the hell outta that store. But, I tell ya, registering Crate and Barrel right afterwards was WAY more fun.