i have today off yays!

[dragonlady7]

And none too soon.

I have had an angry work rant brewing all night, indeed keeping me at times from sleep. I believe I will make it brief, however, if I can manage.

So on Wed, Thu, Fridays I'm scheduled from 2:00-8:30.
The schedule is such that you are expected to get off the floor a half-hour before the end of your shift, so that you can go and count your bank and make your deposit. (This is known as "cashing out".)
There are two cashiers at the big busy bar, who also are scheduled until 8:30. The cashiers at the bar further down the hall are also scheduled until 8:30. The cashiers at the coffee place by security are scheduled until 9. Now, only two people can cash out at once: the room where we count is a small, locked one, and it is simply impossible to fit more than that. It takes between fifteen and forty-five minutes to cash out a bank, although the upper limit is usually only reached either the extremely confused or those trying to milk the time clock. (Note: there is no actual "limit" and if someone is having trouble, they could stay in there pretty much infinitely.)

So at about five minutes after eight, the cash office is full, and the line to cash out usually grows to about an hour or more.

My bus leaves at 8:28.

So last night, I had an awful shift. It was busy, but not busy with customers: the bar was just full of people. At the end of the shift, the Sabres game was on. I had three tables, and yet every table was full. The ones who were my customers paid their checks and either lingered or left, and every other table filled up with people who just wanted to watch the game. Most of them bought a pop over at the takeout window, or bought a beer up at the bar, and then sat down and set up camp at various of my tables.

I considered staying late, just because of the sheer numbers of bodies. I spoke to the bartender, who was busy but not overwhelmed. He shrugged. I decided to leave, then, and closed out my tabs, and got all my customers one last drink (although most were content with what they had). Because really, I had nothing to do.

When I saw the cashiers gathering up their banks, I left, knowing I walk faster than them and so could get there before them.

I got into the cash room and began to count my bank. There was a knock on the door, and one of the managers was there. We opened the door, and he stood in the doorway and asked me what I was doing. I answered with the obvious.
He said, "But it's busy down there."
"My shift is over," I said.
"But I have a bar with every table full," he said. Now, this is the same guy who came down and yelled at me one Saturday when I snuck out 45 minutes early after having no tables for two hours. That time, he went back down and actually looked and ascertained that, yes, those customers I said were takeout customers, all were. So I reminded him of that. He said he'd go down and check like last time, except that "a manager he trusted" had phoned him to notify him of the situation this time, and he was sure she would have taken that into account. (How she'd've had time, I don't know; it had been like two minutes.)
I then listed off all the tables that had been mine and how I had left them, assuring him that yes, I had checked all of them, and if his source thought they were sitting there waiting for service, she was mistaken. "Besides which, my shift is over," I said.
"You're on the schedule until 8:30," he said.
"Yes," I answered, "and it will take me until then to cash out my bank. What of the others on the schedule until 8:30? They're all in the hallway behind you."
"But I have a full bar and need a server down there," he said.
"Then you need to amend the schedule," I said. "I am only scheduled until 8:30 and that is when my bus leaves."
"I don't care about your bus," he said.
"I do," I said.
"Are you refusing?" he asked.
"Are you writing me up? I will grieve this [with the union] so hard. I stay late all the time and suddenly, today, when I won't, is the only time you care?"
"Are you refusing?" he repeated.
"Yes," I said. "I am refusing to stay past my scheduled time for a second night in a row. This is ridiculous. I am not leaving early, I am leaving on time. You have no right to say anything to me. And none of those people are my customers. They're just camping out to watch the game. If you need a later server you schedule a later server, but I'm only on the clock until 8:30."

So he left, and I burst into tears and finished counting my bank, and the cash office girl solemnly said "he don't got no right to talk to you like that," and all the cashiers in the hallway (there were four, so indeed, if I had waited even two minutes more on my unit, I would have been in line for at least an hour) solemnly shook their heads and said, "he didn't ought to talk to you like that in front of everybody."

I clocked out at precisely 8:26, so, there you have it: I left four minutes early, and should be fired. Because last night I clocked out at 10:12 because I was asked to stay late and did so willingly, because it wasn't demanded of me, and was presented to me as the choice that it was. However, I was not thanked or rewarded in any way for giving up my evening like that [and a miserable evening it turned out to be], so I decided it wasn't really worth my while to do anymore. But even if I'd had the time of my life staying late last night, being told that I had no choice but to stay well beyond the scheduled end of my shift just frosts the fuck out of my buttons. No thank you, no sirree, and I will not work for a company that thinks it owns me like that. Not for $6 an hour.


I hope they fucking fire me, like the dumbasses they are. I can live for approximately two years on my savings, if I don't decide I need, you know, savings. So I could be a lot more worried. I don't really like that job on the balance, but the money is so good that I would never leave on my own.
There's a possibility that I'm in the wrong; I've had it repeatedly pointed out to me that they can't make me stay beyond 8 hours, but today happened to be a 6-hour shift. Maybe they can force me to stay beyond the end of my shift. I will make the somewhat chickenshit observation that had I known that, I probably would have caved. But I'm not sorry; I would be yet more furious if I had caved, only to afterward find out that they were in fact totally outside of their rights. Because you know they'd never compensate me in any way for the abuse.

So today I was going to drive to Rochester to pick up a couch, but Z's uncle needed the truck, so, that's out. Instead I don't know what we'll do, but I do have to clean the house. I just had to get that angry work rant off my chest.

Anyhow. I got home last night, on schedule, and Z had dinner waiting. He'd bought the stuff the previous night as a surprise, but then I'd stayed late at work. Last night it was the knowledge that he'd have a nice dinner waiting at home that got me through the damn day. I came home and dressed up nice and we sat on the back porch and had red wine and salami-zucchini-fettucine by candlelight, and I said to myself that I would not have missed this for all the manager blustering in the world, and they can so fire me.

Comments

[qowf.livejournal.com]

You know, that just sucks. I hope that things work out the way you want them to--no matter what that means. Finding another gig is a pain, but the fact is, there's another out there. I'm facing that potential now.

We land on our feet. It's who we are.

[mother2012.livejournal.com]

Change happens when someone can afford to lose something. You can afford to lose the job, therefore they must either listen to you or fire you. In either case, you win.

I hope they *don't* fire you. Because now that you have won one, you'll mostly win from now on.

[kkatowll.livejournal.com]

You were totally right to refuse. And next time one of the other reporters leaves on time after filing NOTES instead of a story and I am told to stay an extra two hours to finish it, I will remember you and find the strength to say FUCK YOU. or maybe just no. )