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dragonlady7Why do I feel so ill-at-ease and miserable today?
It is probably related to the fact that I cannot actually cope with the real world and, you know, get things done. I am such a weird little weirdo person.
Did any of this make any sense? No. Eh.
1. Catch the bus to get to work. It leaves at 11:12 and will get me there at about noon. Work starts at 2, so I should have some time to take care of things beforehand.
2. At work: Get a copy of the write-up from Saturday, which was the cause of my quivering indignation which I have not yet blogged, have I? Ah. Get a copy of it, read it over, and collect my thoughts.
3. At work: Also, get my security badge. This may take a while.
4. Once clocked in, go speak with the union steward about the write-up and how/whether to file a grievance with the union over this bullshit. Because it is bullshit.
5. Work. Get out of work in time to catch the 8:28. If anyone makes trouble, point out that the shift I bid on was 2:00 to 6:30 and that it was changed to 8:30 without my consent and in fact I wasn't even notified of the change. It wasn't even bolded on the schedule.
6. Try not to quit job and storm out in a huff, as my savings would really like to remain savings rather than becoming emergency current living expenses.
7. Also, try not to die of cramps OMG the cramps death ow.
I am trying not to die of cramps at the moment.
Oh, perhaps I should tell the story of How I Got So Mad I Almost Quit on Saturday.
Wednesday I worked an extra shift because someone's on vacation. Due to someone else having recently been fired, we were short-handed. There are usually two cocktail servers at Big Bar, but that day, there was only me. It was busy-ish and I was hung over, and I knew there was no help in sight. Also I had to somehow manage to escape to the office for an unspecified amount of time so I could fill out paperwork.
Up until 3:00, everyone I asked whether I would have relief at 2 pm said "dunno" despite the fact that they HAVE TO HAVE KNOWN. It was maddening. This includes Asshole Manager, who when I asked directly said "there should be someone" but didn't actually even bother to check the schedule he had in his pocket. He was being evasive and assholish, and we both knew it. Why? No reason.
I had a window of about ten minutes right at two where I could have zipped down to the office, but I didn't know if someone was coming in, so I didn't dare.
I ended up having to call someone down from another unit to watch my tables for me. This was a big giant hassle. So my "break" consisted of going down and standing there while the HR person filled out a form that I easily could have filled out myself, at my leisure. Hm. Inflated self-importance much? Right.
So i ran back and let my sub go back to her own unit so she could get her break. And that was it. That was my break.
I knew I was too tired to manage the whole section myself. There's a takeout counter, and so any actual customers are heavily camoflaged by a herd of people who get takeout and come sit at the restaurant tables. Taking tables in that section is always a hassle. So I said: Fuck it. If anyone up there wants anything, they can make the effort to let me know. i don't have time to crawl through the forest of carry-on luggage and browbeat the takeout-campers. Fuggit.
So I didn't. I waited on the tables in the section along the edge, and if anyone in the middle flagged me down, I sent them to the bar. I have worked there before and wound up enmired in having far too many tables to keep up with, and was determined not to fall into that trap.
Around dinnertime, things slowed down. My section emptied out. The front section had some takeout customers in it, but nobody who wanted anything. I sat down at the corner of the bar for a moment, the first time I had taken the weight off my feet in over six hours.
In comes Asshole Manager. Yells at me: you can't be sitting down! You're the only server and the place is full of customers!
None of them are my customers, I said. I pointed to my tables. They're all taken care of, and I haven't really been waiting on anyone up there. They're all takeout customers, and if they have drinks they got them at the bar.
Asshole nods, looks thoughtful, makes more inquiries: so people are just not getting what they want?
No, I explain patiently. Anyone who wants anything is getting it. They just have to ask someone for it. The bartender chimes in, assures Asshole that any tables I can't get to he's been dealing with.
Ah, Asshole says, and walks away.
The next time I come in, Saturday, I have a write-up waiting for me.
1) Server must not sit at bar
2) Server must take all tables in section.
That second part makes me so angry I am shaking. How DARE they PRESUME to dictate to me how i do my job? How dare they force me to take on more work than I can handle? They can't actually make me do that anyway, so it's entirely moot, but how DARE they?
And, what's more important, how DARE they write me up for something that WAS NOT POLICY before the write-up occurred? They can't.
So, I'm filing a grievance with the union, and seeing it through, and I sure hope I can calm down and not quit in rage, but in the meantime, Jesus Christ are these people ever assholes. They don't even care what the job actually entails, they just want to control every aspect of it. Just because, why? I don't know. Because they want to make trouble. I mean, why do they even care? It's not like if I don't run over and take everyone's orders they don't get food from us. They do. Usually it's more than i can do to run over to the table before they've already placed their order at the takeout window. Often people are hostile to me because they'd rather get takeout and not have to tip me because the dollar would break them, or something.
Fuck that. Fuck those assholes. They don't care what the job entails. They don't care what's best for the customer. They only care what's best for the employee insofar as they can take it away and make things harder. I am extremely tired of this one asshole in particular, and I called in sick yesterday partly because I knew he was there and if I saw him I'd punch him in his smug fucking face.
So there's my righteous indignation, only at this point I just feel sick and tired.
It is probably related to the fact that I cannot actually cope with the real world and, you know, get things done. I am such a weird little weirdo person.
Did any of this make any sense? No. Eh.
1. Catch the bus to get to work. It leaves at 11:12 and will get me there at about noon. Work starts at 2, so I should have some time to take care of things beforehand.
2. At work: Get a copy of the write-up from Saturday, which was the cause of my quivering indignation which I have not yet blogged, have I? Ah. Get a copy of it, read it over, and collect my thoughts.
3. At work: Also, get my security badge. This may take a while.
4. Once clocked in, go speak with the union steward about the write-up and how/whether to file a grievance with the union over this bullshit. Because it is bullshit.
5. Work. Get out of work in time to catch the 8:28. If anyone makes trouble, point out that the shift I bid on was 2:00 to 6:30 and that it was changed to 8:30 without my consent and in fact I wasn't even notified of the change. It wasn't even bolded on the schedule.
6. Try not to quit job and storm out in a huff, as my savings would really like to remain savings rather than becoming emergency current living expenses.
7. Also, try not to die of cramps OMG the cramps death ow.
I am trying not to die of cramps at the moment.
Oh, perhaps I should tell the story of How I Got So Mad I Almost Quit on Saturday.
Wednesday I worked an extra shift because someone's on vacation. Due to someone else having recently been fired, we were short-handed. There are usually two cocktail servers at Big Bar, but that day, there was only me. It was busy-ish and I was hung over, and I knew there was no help in sight. Also I had to somehow manage to escape to the office for an unspecified amount of time so I could fill out paperwork.
Up until 3:00, everyone I asked whether I would have relief at 2 pm said "dunno" despite the fact that they HAVE TO HAVE KNOWN. It was maddening. This includes Asshole Manager, who when I asked directly said "there should be someone" but didn't actually even bother to check the schedule he had in his pocket. He was being evasive and assholish, and we both knew it. Why? No reason.
I had a window of about ten minutes right at two where I could have zipped down to the office, but I didn't know if someone was coming in, so I didn't dare.
I ended up having to call someone down from another unit to watch my tables for me. This was a big giant hassle. So my "break" consisted of going down and standing there while the HR person filled out a form that I easily could have filled out myself, at my leisure. Hm. Inflated self-importance much? Right.
So i ran back and let my sub go back to her own unit so she could get her break. And that was it. That was my break.
I knew I was too tired to manage the whole section myself. There's a takeout counter, and so any actual customers are heavily camoflaged by a herd of people who get takeout and come sit at the restaurant tables. Taking tables in that section is always a hassle. So I said: Fuck it. If anyone up there wants anything, they can make the effort to let me know. i don't have time to crawl through the forest of carry-on luggage and browbeat the takeout-campers. Fuggit.
So I didn't. I waited on the tables in the section along the edge, and if anyone in the middle flagged me down, I sent them to the bar. I have worked there before and wound up enmired in having far too many tables to keep up with, and was determined not to fall into that trap.
Around dinnertime, things slowed down. My section emptied out. The front section had some takeout customers in it, but nobody who wanted anything. I sat down at the corner of the bar for a moment, the first time I had taken the weight off my feet in over six hours.
In comes Asshole Manager. Yells at me: you can't be sitting down! You're the only server and the place is full of customers!
None of them are my customers, I said. I pointed to my tables. They're all taken care of, and I haven't really been waiting on anyone up there. They're all takeout customers, and if they have drinks they got them at the bar.
Asshole nods, looks thoughtful, makes more inquiries: so people are just not getting what they want?
No, I explain patiently. Anyone who wants anything is getting it. They just have to ask someone for it. The bartender chimes in, assures Asshole that any tables I can't get to he's been dealing with.
Ah, Asshole says, and walks away.
The next time I come in, Saturday, I have a write-up waiting for me.
1) Server must not sit at bar
2) Server must take all tables in section.
That second part makes me so angry I am shaking. How DARE they PRESUME to dictate to me how i do my job? How dare they force me to take on more work than I can handle? They can't actually make me do that anyway, so it's entirely moot, but how DARE they?
And, what's more important, how DARE they write me up for something that WAS NOT POLICY before the write-up occurred? They can't.
So, I'm filing a grievance with the union, and seeing it through, and I sure hope I can calm down and not quit in rage, but in the meantime, Jesus Christ are these people ever assholes. They don't even care what the job actually entails, they just want to control every aspect of it. Just because, why? I don't know. Because they want to make trouble. I mean, why do they even care? It's not like if I don't run over and take everyone's orders they don't get food from us. They do. Usually it's more than i can do to run over to the table before they've already placed their order at the takeout window. Often people are hostile to me because they'd rather get takeout and not have to tip me because the dollar would break them, or something.
Fuck that. Fuck those assholes. They don't care what the job entails. They don't care what's best for the customer. They only care what's best for the employee insofar as they can take it away and make things harder. I am extremely tired of this one asshole in particular, and I called in sick yesterday partly because I knew he was there and if I saw him I'd punch him in his smug fucking face.
So there's my righteous indignation, only at this point I just feel sick and tired.
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no subject
Date: 2006-03-03 12:51 am (UTC)But one must remember that managers do not actually work, and therefore don't understand physical limits.