Writing up your “co-worker”: The Legend of BettyAnn Sue

“Does anyone know what they’re doing?” A woman who may have been in her fifties, burst in the room about a moment ago. She stood in front of me looking tired or a bit careless.

It’s probably 6:45 in the morning and you’re already annoying me. My manager looked up at her from across the room then returned to her work. I felt like I may have given this woman a glare with my glasses tipped on my nose, “Yes, why?” I responded, This woman is and will be a problem…

I should’ve been agitated. One of the workers (aka supervisors) was a no-call no show and left our staff a person short. I had a gig as a clerk at the polls, and this was expected to be one of many big elections. However, before the woman walked in, I neither gave into agitation or anxiety because I was so happy to make extra money and that everything we needed, aside from the missing employee, was right where they needed to be. The manager was busy turning on the polling machine, I made sure I had everything on our station, and the supervisors were making sure the rules of the polling place were visible.

“I haven’t been to training,” the woman admitted (let’s call her BettyAnn Sue). “And I don’t know how to use those devices.” She pointed at the two polling pads that I’d set up on the supervisors’ station.

“Oh,” Feeling slight guilt, I prayed for forgiveness. I didn’t mean to judge BettyAnn Sue; I just didn’t like her tone. I promised her that when I was done, I’ll show her how to use one of the pads. She sat at the supervisors’ station.

Later, the manager was told that BettyAnn Sue didn’t belong in our room but rather the other polling room right across the hall (yes, literally a few steps away). The person who was assigned to us was standing at the doorway with her things. She looked relieved that the mix up was solved. But she played herself if she’d thought that.

I was training BettyAnn Sue on the polling pads. She whined about not wanting to go across the hall. BettyAnn Sue was way too tired from a long shift last night to do such a thing.

I turned to my manager with a face BEGGING her not to allow BettyAnn Sue to get away with this. But she calmly replied, “Okay, you can stay here.”

Oh, manager, I looked up to you. How can you betray me like this?

I think about a half hour went by and we began to see a crowd lining up outside ready to vote. I went back to my station. The manager and I had only three supervisors, and BettyAnn Sue still needed extra training. The manager went to help her, and the doors were opened. People came piling in. I came to help BettyAnn Sue, again, as well. This meant I went back and forth to the supervisor’s station and back to mine if a voter needed extra assistance.

BettyAnn Sue was supported by my manager and myself. She complained about the work and the confusion. Eventually, the crowd dwindled, and my manager and I returned to our table to work.

“You need to learn English,” BettyAnn Sue snapped at my manager’s father who worked closely with the Spanish speaking population and primarily spoke Spanish. My manager gently corrected her as I cringed.

Things eventually got quiet. After some work, I looked up to see that BettyAnn Sue was texting. Now, it’s not just one of those quick texts that you do, and you get right back to work. She was texting with her feet reclined on two chairs. When people walked in to vote she acted as if they weren’t there making another supervisor sign them in. She then disappears for 20-30 minutes, sleeps at the table (still using all three chairs), disappears again, eats and texts. If I’d written all that she has done; this post would be too long.

None of us said much. Maybe rolled our eyes every now and then. It was apparent that we were better off doing all the work ourselves.

BettyAnn Sue eventually took a walk to Dunkin (without telling us). When she returned, she said to us that we might get free coffee. I, of course, was excited. She sat and ate. After about an hour or two something else happened.

My manager stepped out for a few minutes. BettyAnn Sue turned to me, “I can’t do this anymore.”

Excuse me? What were you doing exactly? My manager’s father and another employee looked at her with disbelief as she talked about how she worked all night and had to go back to work later. She was far too tired to complete her task.

She got up and left as my manager walked in.

My manager asked that I write her up. I couldn’t believe what I was writing, but I’ve accepted that after all that, at least I’ll get a check.