i been down-hearted, baby.
Dec. 8th, 2004 12:24 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7Paid my bills before running off to work; had a stack of 'em and had missed one. Checked my balance online.
Heh. It's a tight squeeze.
Signed the last check, went to click the pen shut. Button was stuck. Smacked it on my new work khakis to unstick it.
Pen explodes. Ink on new khakis.
There's a nice Fuck You from Fate, eh?
Go to work, thinking, "At least I'm not training anymore, so I can make some tips."
There's a bartender standing behind the bar.
"Hi, I dunno why, the bar owner wanted me to train you to close."
"You trained me to close last week. I know how to close."
"I know, I told him he was crazy, but he insisted. So, here I am." (a few minutes later) "Yeah, you know what you're doing. I'm going to go sit down at the end of the bar and chat with my friends."
"Sure. Great. Awesome."
(six hours later)
"Man, it was slow tonight. I only made $50."
Me: "That's $50 more than i've ever made." (Thinking: And that's $50 I just personally put into that jar, too.)
"Yeah, that sucks. Oh, and he wants you to have someone with you Thursday night too."
Me, dumbfounded: "That'd be my sixth night of training." (Industry average is between three and five. In case I didn't explain, when you're in training your tips go to your trainer.)
"Really? That's crazy. That sucks, man. You aren't making any money!"
Me: "Gosh, really? I hadn't noticed."
So, here I am. Ink-stained, and broker than I was this morning. Yeah.
It was TOTALLY worth getting out of bed today.
Oh no wait---- it wasn't.
FUCK.
And you know the shittiest part? The other job, the manager screwed up the scheduling and put me on tonight, even though i'd already told him I couldn't work Tuesday nights.
So I told him no.
I could have worked an 8-hour shift in a busy bar.
Where I would have been allowed to keep my tips instead of giving them to the girl sitting down at the end of the bar talking with her friends.
Yeah.
Heh. It's a tight squeeze.
Signed the last check, went to click the pen shut. Button was stuck. Smacked it on my new work khakis to unstick it.
Pen explodes. Ink on new khakis.
There's a nice Fuck You from Fate, eh?
Go to work, thinking, "At least I'm not training anymore, so I can make some tips."
There's a bartender standing behind the bar.
"Hi, I dunno why, the bar owner wanted me to train you to close."
"You trained me to close last week. I know how to close."
"I know, I told him he was crazy, but he insisted. So, here I am." (a few minutes later) "Yeah, you know what you're doing. I'm going to go sit down at the end of the bar and chat with my friends."
"Sure. Great. Awesome."
(six hours later)
"Man, it was slow tonight. I only made $50."
Me: "That's $50 more than i've ever made." (Thinking: And that's $50 I just personally put into that jar, too.)
"Yeah, that sucks. Oh, and he wants you to have someone with you Thursday night too."
Me, dumbfounded: "That'd be my sixth night of training." (Industry average is between three and five. In case I didn't explain, when you're in training your tips go to your trainer.)
"Really? That's crazy. That sucks, man. You aren't making any money!"
Me: "Gosh, really? I hadn't noticed."
So, here I am. Ink-stained, and broker than I was this morning. Yeah.
It was TOTALLY worth getting out of bed today.
Oh no wait---- it wasn't.
FUCK.
And you know the shittiest part? The other job, the manager screwed up the scheduling and put me on tonight, even though i'd already told him I couldn't work Tuesday nights.
So I told him no.
I could have worked an 8-hour shift in a busy bar.
Where I would have been allowed to keep my tips instead of giving them to the girl sitting down at the end of the bar talking with her friends.
Yeah.
