Update. For those who care.

This is what has happened in the past 6 days:
Friday-- Met Tarah and Cara at the Centre to pick up the airport shuttle. They said almost nothing to me. We all sat around a table. They chatted. I drank a bottle of water and tried to look like I belonged there.
Got in the shuttle. They sat together in the row in front of me and gabbed. I sat in the back row, next to a little old woman with the sniffles, who pretended I didn't exist.
Arrived at the airport. Raced around madly looking for our terminal. We were 2 hours early, and the only ones who had arrived so far, but still, we were in a bit of a panic. I tell you, these Canadians have NO sense of direction.
Plane #1 to LaGuardia. Have you even landed there? Did you get the uncanny feeling that you might take the rooves off of all the houses surrounding the runways? Frightening. I could see in windows.
2 hours wandering around a dirty and crowded airport. Lunch. No talking. Bought a book. Started reading, rather than stare dejectedly out a window, being ignored.
Plane #2 to Portland. MINISCULE. The only time I have ever had to walk down the little chute, take stairs down to the tarmac, walk across the pavement and then up a flight of stairs into the belly of the plane. Ridiculously small. And the guy next to me smelled.
Arrived in Portland. Much wandering around and dropping things, trying to keep up with my team, who were still trying to believe I wasn't with them.
Got the rental cars. They were forced to give in, considering a stranger was in the car with them. After an hour of driving, a U-turn in a toll plaza, much bickering amongst ourselves, and a little bit of fearing for my life, we FINALLY arrived at the hotel which should have taken us approximately 15-20 minutes to find, if not for the wretched directional and communicational skills of my new co-workers.
Check in- BEAUTIFUL hotel! I wish I could stay there forever and never go back to the crummy Ramada. Oh well.
Dinner- they tried to get some info out of me. Made the usual assumptions about Joe, believing of course, as EVERYONE inevitably does, that they know me better than I know myself. They were experts on the innermost workings of my psyche, especially since they had been acknowledging my presence for nearly 2 hours now.
Saturday-- First day at the store. We arrive. Everyone sets to work and leaves me. I think "...Ok... Obviously, no one wants to clue in the new girl." So I found myself something nice and dirty to clean. Spent the whole day this way. Made friends with several of the new crew. They loved me. Trainees usually do. My new title: Funny Kally. I can live with that.
Dinner- Grumpy people. Arguing. Me, enjoying my steak and margarita, courtesy of Tim Hortons.
Sunday-- More of the same. The arguing begins with Kevin. He is SURE. POSITIVE that Timmy Ho Ho's is going to take over the world one day. And that the terms "Double Double" and "Triple Triple" will overtake the bizarre RI propensities for using "Light & Sweet" and "Extra Extra." Because this is obviously VERY important and the grand realm of a major, billion-dollar corporation. God forbid a market have a bit of idiosyncratic individuality.
Also, Deb starts making comments about how Bess Eaton is a dirty word, and saying things like "What are you, American?" I'm starting to feel offended. After all, it's been a month since I've been "The American." You'd think sooner or later, they'd figure out that I have an actual personality outside that stereotype.
I guess not.
Monday--1am. The real trouble begins. Actually, everything went fine until about 2:30 am, when the stock truck showed up and dropped off $5000 worth of food and paper goods. Tarrah has never seen a Sygma order before. All of us work to get it checked in and put away before the entire thing thaws out. MANY MISTAKES. Mostly by Sygma. But still.
They don't get out until almost 4. On a day when everyone is trained, we want to start baking at 3. We had planned to start trainees at 2:30. NO CHANCE.
Also, the over-eager owners decide to open doors at 5 instead of 6, and so my poor showcase is being used up before I am anywhere near completing it.
I don't fill it up until 7:30am.
That's a problem.
As I am running around, looking like one of Holly's balloons in the office, the DM is snapping his fingers at me, to get me to move faster. I feel like crying.
13 hours after I arrive, I go back to the hotel and sleep until 7pm. Get a call from Deb: We are switching you and Kevin. I don't think you were prepared for this. How much experience do you have at baking? I don't know why it was such a problem.
Whatever.
Tuesday-- I'm PISSED. Trying not to show it, but in a seriously bad mood. How can I be successful at something if I don't know what is expected of me? How can I be blamed for this? Granted, the morning production was on my shoulders, but so was the mondo stock order and the training of 3 crew.
I'm called into the office. Bad attitude. Duh.
Deb says that everyone is overwhelmed on their first day. I ask if everyone gets to complete their training or maybe get an orientation before they are thrown into a tornado of a store opening. She said she just ASSUMED that since I have managerial experience, I would know what I was doing, have some idea how to handle myself.
I say "From what I've learned, New England is completely different from anywhere in the company. And an Assistant Manager is NOTHING like an Ops Rep, so don't use that as an excuse."
Kevin says (and this is why I hate him most right now), "We just want to be sure we aren't wasting our time on you."
Screw you, jackass! What about my time? I've been away from home for a month with the soonest date for seeing all of my friends and family still 3 months off. Should I be thrilled to be here, being under-trained, under-prepared, under-appreciated, and completely overworked?
But I didn't say that.
I said "I'm not happy with my situation right now, but I made a commitment. I'm here until January. I'm just going to hope it gets better."
Wednesday morning: Call from Michael, the director of Ops. Reps. Greeeaaat. They called in the big guns. He asked me how everything was going. (He already knew how everything was going. I hate that. Why ask me?) I said fine. He said "That's not what I heard."
I told him how I felt like I was thrown in, and burdened with expectations that weren't made clear to me. I felt like the scapegoat for everything that went wrong when I was placed in an unconventional game plan (crew leaders usually take the position of morning production. No one really knew why they gave it to me in the first place.), and doomed for failure. He told me he was sending in another crew member to help out.
So there you go. Once again, I am not making the cut, so they need someone to bail me out. All of this could have been avoided if they had trained me like they said they would, or given me the slightest orientation. Or even just warned the crew I am working with that I don't know what I'm doing, and to give me a hand up when I need one.
Tarrah (who has surprisingly become my ally here), told me she heard that they are sending in someone else for my "shaddow shift." I told her that every time they find some new fix for this "situation" (i.e. ME.), it makes me feel even more inadequate. Like they are wasting their money on me. Even though I KNOW that it's not my fault.
She said no. They are realizing that they screwed up and they are trying to get me not to walk off shift, because a lesser person would have by now.
She said she has felt bad for me, because she has seen me struggling through it, and I feel like she has been really kind and explained a lot of things to me in a compassionate way.
Last night, she said pointe-blanc, "I make mistakes. I know I do. All I ask is that you approach me privately about them, and not in front of trainees. Then allow me to retrain them. And I'll give you the same respect."
She said this NOT because I had already done something wrong, but because she wanted me to know how she wanted it done BEFORE the issue came up.
Made her expectations known. The way it SHOULD be.
Ugh.
I just did my expense report. I HATE EXPENSE REPORTS. I know I'm going to screw it up. Just like everything else.
Whatever.