Noooooooooo!
Jun. 1st, 2006 10:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Ah well, shit.
Guess I don't have to dance in the street with my hair on fire. Go to hell, Carolina.
I have a new work rant, and I think this one's actually amusing. File this one under "Things I Fantasize About Actually Saying."
See, the Ubermanager who used to always be a fuck has mellowed of late. Most recently, he's been downright reasonable. Haven't posted about him lately, as he's been, well, human. Guess what? He's found another job. (Senior Cocktail Waitress [aka Union Steward] actually said to his face that she knows the reason he finally got another job is that he's actually human now. He laughed.)
The guy who's sort of taking over from him? Is revealing himself to be a real dick. This is the one who's yelled at me for leaving early twice, once when I was actually leaving late. Yes, that guy. He's most famous for his mannerism of starting out sentences wherein he's going to ask you to do something you don't want to do by saying, "I'm confused," and then saying something like "I thought you [something obvious that he knows you don't want to do]."
So we'll call him Confused. Of course he isn't confused. He's just saying, in a weaselly fashion, that he wants you to do something. At least now-human Ubermanager has the decency to be direct about it. But I digress.
So, this is addressed to the manager I shall hereafter refer to as Confused.
Dear Confused,
I have been a waitress for a while now. Before that I was an office monkey; before that, a cashier; before that, a library flunky, and before that, someone's Difficult teenage daughter. Let's just say I have a lot of experience at being Managed. I've been managed by a lot of people. Men, women; slackers, overachievers; sympathetic, cold; young, old; competent, not so very; earnest, cynical; uptight, laid-back. I've actually even had a boss who was truly actually crazy-- unmedicated bipolar, prone to temper tantrums. I've had a whole lot of managers in my life.
But I've never had one I respected less. Congratulations! You lose.
Sincerely,
Me.
Seriously. SCW[US] has been discussing the shifty schedule change with all the other managers she's seen, and they've all quietly, off-the-record, agreed that a) I'm well within my rights to grieve it with the union, and b) Confused is kind of a jerk who doesn't know how to talk to people.
That plus about four dollars will get me a coffee at the local gourmet coffeeshops, but at least I have the principle of moral indignation on my side. Right? Sure.
Tonight I stayed late (it was warranted), until all my tables had closed out and all I was doing was doing dishes for the lazy bartender. So I finished the dishes and went and cashed out, and pointed out the time to the cash office girl ("Look! I stayed late, because it was actually warranted this time!"), who solemnly shook her head and said "They'll never pay any attention. They never do, when you do something right."
But the distinguishing bit of tonight that will probably stay in my memory is that about the last thing I did was slam my finger in the goddamn garbage can. I hate that damn garbage can.
And at the moment I am mildly annoyed because I am finally home to eat dinner with Z, and the phone rang, so he is off on the phone, and he refuses to make eye contact with me and tell me who's on the phone. I am sure it is one of his friends, and I would tell him to say hi and then leave him alone, but he's doing that thing he does, where he refuses to make eye contact, and turns away whenever I approach him, and covers his ears when I try to ask him. I'm not trying very hard. I'm understandably curious. I can hear he's just chatting sociably. But he's been on the phone twenty minutes and to me, he's acting like it's the fucking President or something. Jeez, dude. All I asked was, "Who is it?"
Ah well, shit.
Guess I don't have to dance in the street with my hair on fire. Go to hell, Carolina.
I have a new work rant, and I think this one's actually amusing. File this one under "Things I Fantasize About Actually Saying."
See, the Ubermanager who used to always be a fuck has mellowed of late. Most recently, he's been downright reasonable. Haven't posted about him lately, as he's been, well, human. Guess what? He's found another job. (Senior Cocktail Waitress [aka Union Steward] actually said to his face that she knows the reason he finally got another job is that he's actually human now. He laughed.)
The guy who's sort of taking over from him? Is revealing himself to be a real dick. This is the one who's yelled at me for leaving early twice, once when I was actually leaving late. Yes, that guy. He's most famous for his mannerism of starting out sentences wherein he's going to ask you to do something you don't want to do by saying, "I'm confused," and then saying something like "I thought you [something obvious that he knows you don't want to do]."
So we'll call him Confused. Of course he isn't confused. He's just saying, in a weaselly fashion, that he wants you to do something. At least now-human Ubermanager has the decency to be direct about it. But I digress.
So, this is addressed to the manager I shall hereafter refer to as Confused.
Dear Confused,
I have been a waitress for a while now. Before that I was an office monkey; before that, a cashier; before that, a library flunky, and before that, someone's Difficult teenage daughter. Let's just say I have a lot of experience at being Managed. I've been managed by a lot of people. Men, women; slackers, overachievers; sympathetic, cold; young, old; competent, not so very; earnest, cynical; uptight, laid-back. I've actually even had a boss who was truly actually crazy-- unmedicated bipolar, prone to temper tantrums. I've had a whole lot of managers in my life.
But I've never had one I respected less. Congratulations! You lose.
Sincerely,
Me.
Seriously. SCW[US] has been discussing the shifty schedule change with all the other managers she's seen, and they've all quietly, off-the-record, agreed that a) I'm well within my rights to grieve it with the union, and b) Confused is kind of a jerk who doesn't know how to talk to people.
That plus about four dollars will get me a coffee at the local gourmet coffeeshops, but at least I have the principle of moral indignation on my side. Right? Sure.
Tonight I stayed late (it was warranted), until all my tables had closed out and all I was doing was doing dishes for the lazy bartender. So I finished the dishes and went and cashed out, and pointed out the time to the cash office girl ("Look! I stayed late, because it was actually warranted this time!"), who solemnly shook her head and said "They'll never pay any attention. They never do, when you do something right."
But the distinguishing bit of tonight that will probably stay in my memory is that about the last thing I did was slam my finger in the goddamn garbage can. I hate that damn garbage can.
And at the moment I am mildly annoyed because I am finally home to eat dinner with Z, and the phone rang, so he is off on the phone, and he refuses to make eye contact with me and tell me who's on the phone. I am sure it is one of his friends, and I would tell him to say hi and then leave him alone, but he's doing that thing he does, where he refuses to make eye contact, and turns away whenever I approach him, and covers his ears when I try to ask him. I'm not trying very hard. I'm understandably curious. I can hear he's just chatting sociably. But he's been on the phone twenty minutes and to me, he's acting like it's the fucking President or something. Jeez, dude. All I asked was, "Who is it?"
no subject
Date: 2006-06-02 02:39 am (UTC)-D.D.
no subject
Date: 2006-06-02 11:51 am (UTC)