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dragonlady7So I was at work. And I wasn't real busy but I was a bit busy, pretty steady, getting a few customers here and there, this was OK.
A supervisor calls, talks to the bartender (there were two of us, and I was the cocktail waitress). "Bridget's supposed to be in the club," says the supervisor.
"Uh," the bartender says, "No she's not." (All the bartenders peruse the schedules thoroughly, apparently. Everyone knows where everyone else is.) "She's on from 11-7. She's working Judy's shift."
He hangs up, and we exchange puzzled conversation, and shrug, and I keep working.
The phone rings again and it's the most senior bartender, the union rep. I answer. "You're cocktailing at All-Star's, right?" she asks.
"Yeah," I say.
"Stick to your guns," she says. "They can't put you in the Club, this is your one day out of it!"
"I know," I say, and hang up. I've no idea why she's so interested, or how she has heard of this incident. I'm not in the union yet so it's not really her concern what happens to me, but she did train me and apparently likes me.
After a while another supervisor comes down. This one is the nicest one, who cheerfully looks the other way when you break little dumb rules, and who helps you when you're cleaning, and the like. He explains that the girl who was supposed to work in the Club tonight called in sick, and so they need me to go into the Club at 2. He is very polite, and apologetic, and says please repeatedly. I am unhappy, but apparently they called every other reasonably-junior bartender who wasn't already working, and none of them answered the phone. So they have no choice but to put me in there, as they are under contract to staff that bar for US Air regardless of the problems they have in doing so.
...
So I go into the Club at 2 pm.
I have one customer all night. He drinks $15 worth of booze, and leaves a $5 tip. And that's it for the night.
In the meantime I tracked down the stupid credit card company and made them tell me whose problem it was that the machine is broken. (Uber-manager assured me that US Airways is responsible.) Um... no. So I wrote up a cheerful little note and sent it down to the cash office: it's the concession company (my boss)'s problem after all. Let them fix it.
In the meantime, the Club ladies (gasp) did the dishes. They were really nice to me. They felt bad for me, and they at least recognized that I've worked hard all week and haven't let the bitterness through and haven't been surly with the customers (that they've heard. I admit: once I came and found that someone had taken their garbage including a nasty apple core and had moved it from the table to the radiator, because I guess they wanted to put something else on the table. (There are like twelve tables in there. They could've just moved, if the trek to the garbage can (10 feet away) with the refuse proved too difficult.) So, once again, I employed the "Ugh!" of disgust, and followed it with the horrified, clearly-audible, "Who would do that?" that I'd used on the woman who dumped her coffee into the bowl of creamers.).
Later, I sighed, and said I wanted to take a nap. (The kid previous to me was fired, in part, for sleeping in the Club's back room.) "Go ahead," Cherrl said. "I can't," I laughed. "What if the manager comes in to see about the credit card machine?" "Pff," she said, "I'd ring the phone in the back room for ya to wake you up before I let him back there."
Aww.
See, at least they know I'm a hard worker. (Of course I didn't take a nap. I straightened the glassware on the shelves.)
Not that it matters to the managers.
But that's all right.
I've tomorrow off, and then I'm back in the Club again. Maddening.
Oh, on my paycheck, they'd paid me for overtime. So I guess I do make overtime. Good, cuz then I don't have to beat anyone with a stick.
It's just lucky that I'd, on a whim, thrown my copy of the Silmarillion into my bag, because I'd thought I might have a little wait at the cash office at the end of the night, and I'd wanted to review what it said about the Fall of Gondolin.
(I had time at All-Star's to read that section. As I said, it wasn't real busy there. And I wasn't expecting I'd have to save the book for later.)
But anyway. Now I've read the bit about the Nirnaeth Arnoediad. Good for me. (And well well, guess which pair get a mention by name? Well well. I knew they were there but I didn't know they were mentioned as being there. Now there's a plotbunny.)
And yes, i was bored enough to attempt a phonepost. I am a moron on the phone, aren't I? Yeah. So, uh, feel free to give that one a miss.
Sigh. Am so tired and sleepy that I fear it likely that I'll want to sleep all day tomorrow. But I can't waste my first weekend day off this entire year. That wouldn't be right.
A supervisor calls, talks to the bartender (there were two of us, and I was the cocktail waitress). "Bridget's supposed to be in the club," says the supervisor.
"Uh," the bartender says, "No she's not." (All the bartenders peruse the schedules thoroughly, apparently. Everyone knows where everyone else is.) "She's on from 11-7. She's working Judy's shift."
He hangs up, and we exchange puzzled conversation, and shrug, and I keep working.
The phone rings again and it's the most senior bartender, the union rep. I answer. "You're cocktailing at All-Star's, right?" she asks.
"Yeah," I say.
"Stick to your guns," she says. "They can't put you in the Club, this is your one day out of it!"
"I know," I say, and hang up. I've no idea why she's so interested, or how she has heard of this incident. I'm not in the union yet so it's not really her concern what happens to me, but she did train me and apparently likes me.
After a while another supervisor comes down. This one is the nicest one, who cheerfully looks the other way when you break little dumb rules, and who helps you when you're cleaning, and the like. He explains that the girl who was supposed to work in the Club tonight called in sick, and so they need me to go into the Club at 2. He is very polite, and apologetic, and says please repeatedly. I am unhappy, but apparently they called every other reasonably-junior bartender who wasn't already working, and none of them answered the phone. So they have no choice but to put me in there, as they are under contract to staff that bar for US Air regardless of the problems they have in doing so.
...
So I go into the Club at 2 pm.
I have one customer all night. He drinks $15 worth of booze, and leaves a $5 tip. And that's it for the night.
In the meantime I tracked down the stupid credit card company and made them tell me whose problem it was that the machine is broken. (Uber-manager assured me that US Airways is responsible.) Um... no. So I wrote up a cheerful little note and sent it down to the cash office: it's the concession company (my boss)'s problem after all. Let them fix it.
In the meantime, the Club ladies (gasp) did the dishes. They were really nice to me. They felt bad for me, and they at least recognized that I've worked hard all week and haven't let the bitterness through and haven't been surly with the customers (that they've heard. I admit: once I came and found that someone had taken their garbage including a nasty apple core and had moved it from the table to the radiator, because I guess they wanted to put something else on the table. (There are like twelve tables in there. They could've just moved, if the trek to the garbage can (10 feet away) with the refuse proved too difficult.) So, once again, I employed the "Ugh!" of disgust, and followed it with the horrified, clearly-audible, "Who would do that?" that I'd used on the woman who dumped her coffee into the bowl of creamers.).
Later, I sighed, and said I wanted to take a nap. (The kid previous to me was fired, in part, for sleeping in the Club's back room.) "Go ahead," Cherrl said. "I can't," I laughed. "What if the manager comes in to see about the credit card machine?" "Pff," she said, "I'd ring the phone in the back room for ya to wake you up before I let him back there."
Aww.
See, at least they know I'm a hard worker. (Of course I didn't take a nap. I straightened the glassware on the shelves.)
Not that it matters to the managers.
But that's all right.
I've tomorrow off, and then I'm back in the Club again. Maddening.
Oh, on my paycheck, they'd paid me for overtime. So I guess I do make overtime. Good, cuz then I don't have to beat anyone with a stick.
It's just lucky that I'd, on a whim, thrown my copy of the Silmarillion into my bag, because I'd thought I might have a little wait at the cash office at the end of the night, and I'd wanted to review what it said about the Fall of Gondolin.
(I had time at All-Star's to read that section. As I said, it wasn't real busy there. And I wasn't expecting I'd have to save the book for later.)
But anyway. Now I've read the bit about the Nirnaeth Arnoediad. Good for me. (And well well, guess which pair get a mention by name? Well well. I knew they were there but I didn't know they were mentioned as being there. Now there's a plotbunny.)
And yes, i was bored enough to attempt a phonepost. I am a moron on the phone, aren't I? Yeah. So, uh, feel free to give that one a miss.
Sigh. Am so tired and sleepy that I fear it likely that I'll want to sleep all day tomorrow. But I can't waste my first weekend day off this entire year. That wouldn't be right.
