dragonlady7

Me: (Am in cash office, counting my bank and making my deposit for the night.)

Manager, through window (is small locked room where money is counted): I need to see you after you're done.

Me, thinking crap, I have to get moving to get to my other job on time: OK.
(I go to the manager's office. Thinking: My conscience is clear. Perhaps this is something good. Perhaps he wants to offer me more hours. That would be pretty sweet.)

Manager: Close the door, why don't you.

Me: (Closes door. Thinks: That's never good.)

Manager: We received an e-mailed comment from a customer who was at All-Star's on the afternoon of the 11th. I checked the schedule and you were the bartender working that night. Although it's funny, the e-mail describes you as having dark hair, but she couldn't have meant anyone else.

Me (mystified): The 11th... (consults dayplanner) Yes, that was a Tuesday. I work Tuesdays. (Thinking: My hair is most definitely blond, and not a shade of blond people get confused by. No. Not even in that bar's poor light would I be mistaken for a brunette. That's fucking weird. Is this for real?)

Manager: (reading e-mail) "I was at your bar on the 11th and the bartender's actions upset me so much I took notes on the back of my receipt. She was standing at the end of the bar reading a novel. At one point she flipped her head down, ran her fingers through her long dark hair, and put it up into a ponytail, and then without washing her hands proceeded to rearrange food in the cooler. She engaged in rather malicious gossip with the other server about other staff members, about the U.S. Air Club, and the like. Her attitude was terrible. I sat there for 27 minutes and she only spoke to the other bartender, never to me." (e-mail goes off into rant about how customer used to tend bar, about how tending bar in an airport is such a golden opportunity because audience is captive, about all sorts of things.)

Me: (silence a moment)

Manager: So naturally we thought we should talk to you about this.

Me (timidly, confused): Um... I... don't ever take my hair down behind the bar. (I gesture at my hair, which today was in braids pinned up to my head. Thinking: I took it down on Monday, but there was nobody present and I went into the hallway to do it. And I put it back up and washed my hands afterward. But that was yesterday, not the 11th, and at Jake's, not All-Star's.) I've worked in foodservice before and I just don't. I fix my hair before my shift and if it comes down I go away from the food and drink to fix it. I go in the back room at All-Star's, if I have to. (This is the truth. I hate getting food in my hair.) I also have never brought a book to work. And I... (something strikes me) wait, the 11th? Two weeks ago? Is that the day Gerri called in sick so Judy went to work at Landmark?

Manager, surprised: Oh yes, Gerri did call in sick all that week, with her back injury. Yes, Judy was at Landmark.

Me: So... Lisa came to All-Stars at the end of my shift.

Manager: Yes.

Me (thinking, Lisa has long dark hair have you never seen her?): Um... (how do I say this?) I, well.. ? Um, Lisa wears a ponytail. And she did have a book with her. I didn't know if there was a policy about reading. It was a slow shift, and she's in school, so I figured maybe it was okay for her? I didn't ask.

Manager: Now that I think about the customer did respond to the email we sent her to follow up. Wait, let me check. (Goes to screen, looks for e-mail. I quietly despair: what the hell do I say to this? I am not a brunette and I don't even read novels. And wait, you had this email before and didn't read it? What?) Oh yes. (reads:) "The bartender who waited on me was called Bridget, I think her nametag said. Now that you ask, I must say, she wasn't participating in the gossip. She was more sort of nodding and not saying anything, like maybe she was trying to be friendly. She sort of deferred to the other bartender, who was the one doing the complaining and the hair-touching."

Me: Y-- um, yeah. I don't want to say anything against Lisa. I don't know her. I didn't know her then either. I wasn't going to tell her what to do. So yes, I nodded and smiled. She's worked here longer than me. I didn't feel it was my place to give her etiquette lessons. I have no complaints to make about her. I don't know her. Really I don't. (Thinking: I've spoken with her twice and both times she was complaining and spreading gossip. Whatever. Fire her, please, and then I could have more hours. But lord, I am not going to bear tales against my coworkers. Nobody likes a damn snitch and it's ridiculous to encourage that kind of shit, and I won't be involved in it.)

Manager: Well, I've just remembered we never gave either of you the booklet giving the rules for servers and bartenders. I should give you that.

Me, thinking What, that's all? : Um, ok. Sure. That'd be great. I'd love to have it all in writing. It's nice to see.

Manager: The e-mail mentioned that you had been complaining about the U.S. Air Club's policies.

Me: Lisa asked me if I worked there. I told her I work there many hours a week. She mentioned that she hadn't enjoyed working there. I personally don't mind working there because the ladies are nice to me, and if I recall correctly, I said so. I can see why others don't like it: It's really not much money. But the ladies are such sweethearts.

Manager: Hmm. What still bothers me is that she sat there 47 minutes before anyone waited on her.

Me, thinking did you ever pass reading comprehension?: Hm? No, she said she sat there 27 minutes. We sold her a drink, and then she sat there 27 minutes drinking it and taking notes on the receipt. (Thinking, how would she take notes on her receipt if we didn't serve her anything? And honestly, who sits in a bar 47 minutes if they're not being served? You leave. Really. Especially when there are 2 other bars in the same building.)

Manager, rereading: Oh. Oh, right.

Me, thinking so, I didn't do anything wrong. At all. In any way. Except that I didn't smack the whiny bitch you sent to me, who has more seniority than me. And?: Well, thanks for telling me.

Manager: Yes. We just thought we should discuss this matter with both of you.

Me, thinking you didn't know there was a both of us. You hadn't read the second email and put two and two together to realize that there was a second person involved.: Of course. Certainly, it's good for everyone to be aware of issues.

Me, once dismissed: (Sprints to get to other job on time.)

What's the funniest part is that we were given this training and orientation thing shortly after I was hired, going over basic etiquette issues and company policies. And an integral part of that was that the managers would, whenever they saw us doing something good, give us little reward cards that we could redeem for gift certificates and the like.

I have never once seen a manager give out a reward card for someone doing something good.

Not even when, by coincidence, the regional manager walked into my bar right as I, clad in impeccable uniform, my posture attentive (honestly, I was standing up straight and not leaning on the bar like I do when I get tired) and my nametag prominently affixed (for once I hadn't forgotten it), my hair flawless, me polishing glassware (honestly, I was actually doing that, which I do to look busy so customers don't think I'm lazy) as I amiably chattered with the customers, was (this is the gospel truth I swear) actually in the middle of giving an explanatory schpiel about the history of the company and its many interests across the nation. I swear to God, there I was standing there explaining how CA1 Services is a division of Delaware North Inc based right here in Buffalo which provides concessions to sports arenas and airports across the country along with... Oh, hey, there's my manager! Someone take a goddamn picture! I look like I'm in the fucking training video! Look at this shit!

And Dave, the regional manager, pulled out one of the reward cards. And used it to write a list on the back of it, of things we were missing from our display cooler.

I am not, to steal a line from Dave Barry, making this up. Any of it.

added Ok, yeah, it is pretty funny now I think about it. Jeez what a tool.