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dragonlady7Yup, I'm in the Club next week.
Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Sunday again. (They generously gave me Friday off, and since the Club's bar is closed on Saturday they gave me that off as well, instead of letting me work my usual Saturday shift.)
So... cue soundtrack music for the "financial crisis" sequence.
I mean, of course I'd half-expected it, but it was kind of a shock, and I stood staring at the schedule and actually had tears come to my eyes as I realized that any sense I had of finally getting ahead, what with all the extra money I earned last week by being busy, was gone. Shit, I was thinking, rent is due. And car insurance. And the car payment. And I have to pay that fucking heat bill.
Of course it was nothing to cry over. It's more hours than I usually work. And I can spend the time in the Club working on the Book. (Except that of late I haven't been able to get jack shit done on the Newton. i can compose on it, but I can't edit. And I need to edit. *freaks out* *shuts up: the place to freak out is not in a parenthetical aside*)
So I went out into the hall to compose myself, and there was Scheduling Manager, and he knew right away why I was upset, and spoke some sympathetic platitudes about how it was the way it had to be, but maybe he could give me a sixth day since Judy's asked for Friday off so maybe I could at least be out on the floor one day in the week. It's just too bad, and he feels bad for me, but there's nothing he can do. So sad.
And then I found out, a couple hours later, that he's starting a new bartender the week after that. one of the cashiers who's wanted to move up to bartender for a month now. He's decided to start her just after Lucie comes back from her vacation and I get out of the club. So... she gets to avoid any time in the Club. See, the way 'dues' works is that some of us pays them, and some of us doesn't. Hm. Yes.
How much you want to bet she gets one of my shifts and I wind up back down under 30 hours a week after next week?
Sigh.
I am never going to be eligible for subsidized healthcare. I don't think I'll ever see a doctor again. Fucking healthcare system.
I am becoming as whiny as the dark-haired ponytailed bartender of yore. (Am too lazy to go back and find the entry where I talk about the whiny bartender incident. And yes, this is the same manager.)
In other news, I have tomorrow off, so I'm going to do laundry, finally.
I worked at Big Busy Bar today, which is apparently where I'm supposed to be every Wednesday. (Last week I worked Torture Bar because someone had called in sick, and that was the day I almost died of being so busy.) It was quiet and not very busy at Big Busy Bar but I still made about 70% of what I made last week when it was crazy-busy and I wished I was dead. So yeah, any regular Big Busy Bar shift would be nice. *wistful*
If they even give my Wednesdays At Big Busy Bar away to New Bartender Who Was Cashier, I'll hurt somebody. (Probably myself. I'm not much of a kneecap-buster.)
Meh. I have to keep reminding myself: I'm still happier than I was as a tech writer. I'm still happier than I was in that cubicle. Worrying about money is nothing compared to the shit they did to my brain there. I just go back 2 years in this journal and remember how poorly I fit there and what idiots they were. I'm OK now, I just wish I didn't have to freak out every other day about whether or not I can afford my minimal lifestyle. (Pff, I made $30k a year as a tech writer and never had any money then either.)
And in entirely other news, I feel like my eyes are bugging out because this damn sinus pressure won't go away. I keep getting a humorous vision of how I must look, like a hamster somebody's squeezing. I shall leave you with that amusing image.
Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Sunday again. (They generously gave me Friday off, and since the Club's bar is closed on Saturday they gave me that off as well, instead of letting me work my usual Saturday shift.)
So... cue soundtrack music for the "financial crisis" sequence.
I mean, of course I'd half-expected it, but it was kind of a shock, and I stood staring at the schedule and actually had tears come to my eyes as I realized that any sense I had of finally getting ahead, what with all the extra money I earned last week by being busy, was gone. Shit, I was thinking, rent is due. And car insurance. And the car payment. And I have to pay that fucking heat bill.
Of course it was nothing to cry over. It's more hours than I usually work. And I can spend the time in the Club working on the Book. (Except that of late I haven't been able to get jack shit done on the Newton. i can compose on it, but I can't edit. And I need to edit. *freaks out* *shuts up: the place to freak out is not in a parenthetical aside*)
So I went out into the hall to compose myself, and there was Scheduling Manager, and he knew right away why I was upset, and spoke some sympathetic platitudes about how it was the way it had to be, but maybe he could give me a sixth day since Judy's asked for Friday off so maybe I could at least be out on the floor one day in the week. It's just too bad, and he feels bad for me, but there's nothing he can do. So sad.
And then I found out, a couple hours later, that he's starting a new bartender the week after that. one of the cashiers who's wanted to move up to bartender for a month now. He's decided to start her just after Lucie comes back from her vacation and I get out of the club. So... she gets to avoid any time in the Club. See, the way 'dues' works is that some of us pays them, and some of us doesn't. Hm. Yes.
How much you want to bet she gets one of my shifts and I wind up back down under 30 hours a week after next week?
Sigh.
I am never going to be eligible for subsidized healthcare. I don't think I'll ever see a doctor again. Fucking healthcare system.
I am becoming as whiny as the dark-haired ponytailed bartender of yore. (Am too lazy to go back and find the entry where I talk about the whiny bartender incident. And yes, this is the same manager.)
In other news, I have tomorrow off, so I'm going to do laundry, finally.
I worked at Big Busy Bar today, which is apparently where I'm supposed to be every Wednesday. (Last week I worked Torture Bar because someone had called in sick, and that was the day I almost died of being so busy.) It was quiet and not very busy at Big Busy Bar but I still made about 70% of what I made last week when it was crazy-busy and I wished I was dead. So yeah, any regular Big Busy Bar shift would be nice. *wistful*
If they even give my Wednesdays At Big Busy Bar away to New Bartender Who Was Cashier, I'll hurt somebody. (Probably myself. I'm not much of a kneecap-buster.)
Meh. I have to keep reminding myself: I'm still happier than I was as a tech writer. I'm still happier than I was in that cubicle. Worrying about money is nothing compared to the shit they did to my brain there. I just go back 2 years in this journal and remember how poorly I fit there and what idiots they were. I'm OK now, I just wish I didn't have to freak out every other day about whether or not I can afford my minimal lifestyle. (Pff, I made $30k a year as a tech writer and never had any money then either.)
And in entirely other news, I feel like my eyes are bugging out because this damn sinus pressure won't go away. I keep getting a humorous vision of how I must look, like a hamster somebody's squeezing. I shall leave you with that amusing image.
