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Sep. 25th, 2016

Food poisoning? Food poisoning????? Are you sure you don't mean "It's my senior year and there's a big home game and this was the best bullshit excuse I could come up with in my current hungover state"?  Oh, Chels.  *sigh*

Oh, these kids are going to be the death of me, I swear.

AND Big Boss was comped tickets to the game (box seats, no less.  I admire her chutzpah:  she escewed wearing team colors in favor of our Free Tea Day tshirt to "get in a little free advertising."  THIS is why we get along so well), so I was left with Goodtime Charlie, Manager Tightpants, and his entourage of fangirls.  On a major game day.  Hooray.

I ended up opening, because we were already down a person (S hurt her leg, and evidently it was bad enough that it actually involved real medical attention, not self diagnosis).  I forgot that Saturday buses run on a different schedule, so I ended up at work 45 minutes early (after checking the online schedule and screaming obscenities and tearing around the house like a thing possessed when I realized I only had 14 minutes to get dressed, out the door, and to the bus stop).  The morning was nice, so I settled at one of the tables outside with my tea and my paper journal.  There was a light breeze, and I was enjoying observing various families (it was Family Weekend, too) cheerfully dragging their tired/hungover/depressed because they were going to be sober all weekend progeny to stand on line for breakfast at Ye Olde Waffle Shoppe (it's a Chapel Hill institution, and almost impossible to get into on big event weekends.  Unless you want to wait an hour or more) and being snarky in my notebook.

This is *not* an invitation to strike up a conversation, Mr. Random Stranger.  Jeebus, why do men seem to think they need to rescue a woman who is perfectly content with her own company?  Did you think I was bored, being alone with my thoughts?  Or is it that much of a threat to your fragile masculinity?

[Apparently, yes.  Yes, it is.  I have had it about up to HERE with cis-male privilege and ego fragility and the whole, erm, package this week, but that's a WHOLE 'nother post.  My FB friends got a sneak preview, but there is so, soooo much more]

I decided that, gee golly, maybe I should go clock in anyway.  So I went inside, took a corner table, and enjoyed my last few moments of peace before the chaos.  And chaos it was.

I am proud of myself, though.  The Unfortunately Named Coworker (now to just be known as J 2.0, because she's not worth that many letters) came in at ten--why does Jeebus hate me so?!?!?--and asked what I needed finished before we opened.

Oh.  Oh, oh, oh.  Not a smart question, child.  When I trained her how to open, she informed me "I don't do ice. It's cold and it's heavy."

[Ummm...if you are physically capable of helping Manager Tightpants put up the freezer, you can haul some gorram ice]

Heh.  Heheheheheh.  Now, normally, ice is my work thing (I get called The Ice Queen or Elsa all the time).  But...uh uh.  It's time for yours truly to set the tone, especially when I am dealing with the two most ineffectual managers in the world who are more than happy to let me do their job for them.

"Well, I need ice mostly."  I get The Face.  "After that, if you could bag and tag the cookies, that would be really helpful."

Which means staying in back near Manager Tightpants, which she makes every excuse to do anyway. She practically skipped off to get ice.  He shot me a look, and I just smiled and shrugged.  You hired her, dude.  You're not enforcing the "FoH STAYS there unless specifically asked" rule and not exactly discouraging her.  Sorry if she's more aggressive and not as cute as J 1.0, but not my problem.  Deal with it.

Besides, I fucking HATE bagging cookies.

I decided if I was going to be stuck with people who wanted to hang out in back all day, they were going to fucking WORK.  I delegated, y'all, which is not my strong suit.  And delegated with an iron fist.  And a sweet smile and Southern accent.

"Oh, if y'all are going back there, could you do X, Y, and Z?  That would really help.  Thanks."

At one point, Goodtime Charlie said "You are really stepping it up today.  I think we could all go watch the game and  you could run this place."  It took everything in my power to keep from saying "Y'all already are and I already AM." (I swear, I have NEVER worked somewhere where management sets up a laptop in back to stream the game.  College towns are a very different animal)

I mean, honestly.  I ended up assigning who was on register and who was running food (not that that worked so well, but I can tell you that I was the only one who had hands in MY register).  It was on the schedule, but who reads that?  I was not shy about yelling "I need a runner!" when there was food in the window and I had a line fifteen deep (it's more professional than "Get out front and do your fucking job!" which was what was going through my head).  We aren't allowed to even THINK about starting sidework until 1pm, so when J 2.0 took the dishes back at 12:35, I told Manager Tightpants I was going to put out the sidework list so we could "work as a team and no one person gets stuck with the bulk of the work while everyone else leaves on time."

Translation:  I am not going to get screwed as usual when you clowns are the MODs and I MISS MY BUS.  If you miss a Saturday bus, you have an hour wait.  And while I COULD walk home, I generally prefer not to when it is 91F and I've been up since 4:30.

You want to do dishes?  You get to do dishes.  Soooooo many dishes.  She was supposed to leave at 2.  She was still there when I left, and  I left at 3:38.

I am such a bitch.

Because Chels called, out, I was prepared to stay until 5 and cover the end of her shift.  Goodtime Charlie approached me and said "I know you came in early, but I was wondering..."

He couldn't even finish the sentence.  Jojo (PLEASE PEOPLE!  Quit hiring people whose names start with the same letter!  It makes blogging impossible!) skedaddled over and said  "Oh, I'll stay.  My girl has been here all day and I didn't some in until eleven.  I mean, unless you want the hours..."  And, yes, she's another Manager Tightpants groupie.  She's also very openly bi, and manages to make me (ME!!!) a tad uncomfortable.  She's the Queen of TMI.

I also think I might be on her (as she calls it) "Threesome Wishlist."  She's done everything but say it outright.

And, ya know, if J 2.0 had already gone, I would have stayed.  But, frankly, this week has been stressful.  I have a spousebeast who has been walking around under a cloud of negativity; I don't need a couple extra hours of that at work and THEN go home to more of the same.

I thought Goodtime Charlie was going to cry.  Sorry, Charlie.


On the up side, because I actually DID MY JOB, I not only walked away with twice as much in credit card tips as I made for the hours I worked, I was handed $16 in tips (which means I don't have to share).  And when I finally got to pull my drawer, I made sure I got my free meal for working over six hours.  Frequently, I just want out of there so bad, I'll just skip it.  This time, however, I approached Paco (his real name.  He's one of a network of brothers, sisters, cousins that Kent and I have worked with over the years here) and asked if he could make me a chicken salad sandwich with no tomato.  THEN I pulled my drawer.  By the time he was done, I was done.  And I handed the slip to Manager Tightpants and said "Oh, here is my drawer and here is my comp meal" and swanned right the fuck out of there.

And straight to CVS, where I plunked down half of those tips for a  huge bottle of cheap chardonnay.

I swear, one of these years I am going to write about something other than work.  


( 5 comments — Leave a comment )
Sep. 25th, 2016 05:02 pm (UTC)
it's ok by me for you to write about work

it's a whole different world from mine
and i enjoy hearing about it
sorry that it can be so stressful for you
Sep. 25th, 2016 11:51 pm (UTC)
Yesterday, I ate at McA's for the 1st time (they recently opened one in Niagara Falls, NY), and I've gotta say... The service was the best. And the tea?!?! Holy shit, it's definitely the best ever!!! My Yankee ass had half sweetened, half unsweetened and I guzzled it with glee!

I finished my spud for dinner tonight. 3 meals out of that SOB. So awesome!
Sep. 26th, 2016 09:27 am (UTC)
I think I used food poisoning, stomach flu, etc...

Bagging cookies would be hard. I would want to eat them all.
Sep. 26th, 2016 02:34 pm (UTC)
Stupid question - why do you need to bag cookies?

Also, I am enjoying reading about your working life!
Sep. 26th, 2016 04:20 pm (UTC)
I can picture your world as you write it, although some of the places I worked did some stuff very different, it is shocking how many things stay the same from one restaurant or bar to the next....
and the management keeps hiring the same useless cute little sweet thing that will not pull her own weight...
( 5 comments — Leave a comment )


The fucking YARN FAIRY!

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