Just call me ScapeGoat.
Friends, Loves,
Please pray for me. I am breaking. My heart is breaking in a way I was not expecting.
I've been insulted. I am embarrassed. I've been taken for granted and belittled. I didn't think I had a pride issue and for some reason I tell myself that this is not related to pride, yet it seems to have been stripped of me consequently.
I've been working 40 hours a week at a hair salon. You all might have noticed rarely seeing me out anymore. I also tutor and babysit when I can and I'm still not making ends meet. "How is that possible?" you inquire. Do I live frivolously? I would not say so, in comparison to my American peers. Do I gamble it away? Certainly not. I can't help but attribute it to making $6.40/hour all week, with those hours cutting down on my chances of tutoring and babysitting (where I make double or triple as much). When I began, I was encouraged and thanked and appreciated. They needed help, I stayed at the reduced pay. They needed me to put together outfits with high heels, shower, blowdry and style my hair, and wear a face full of make-up every morning. They needed me to work more hours. They needed me to stock shelves, dust, and sweep. They added more to our responsibilities at work, though we were already constantly busy. I more often than not get no lunch break, especially when I work 9am to 7pm and later. I am kind and friendly to every person who works there or comes in that place. I am sweet to each and every bitch that tries to talk down to me. I smile and thank them and bid them all well. They promised a raise as soon as they made more money; it never happened, but the increase in work load sure happened.
With the fifty things at once that we are required to do, the interruptions that they give (because whatever any other employee wants done now is more important than what we're doing with the clients), and having no lunch - yes, I made mistakes. I forgot to erase some appointments when they got canceled. I forgot to tell the stylists their client was waiting sometimes (God forbid they come look for themselves). I forgot to write a new appointment on their personal schedule, after placing it on the master schedule sometimes. I booked appointments incorrectly sometimes (yes, I am new to the salon industry), took the blame, called the client or whatever, and fixed it. I've never skirted my responsibilities or blame. I do work other people are supposed to do.
I've never called in sick. I was sent home because I came in when I had food poisoning once. But since today when my boss told me I don't deserve a raise and I vocalized to her that I was frustrated that I had to miss the bridal party luncheon tomorrow (for which I am Maid of Honor- and you do NOT want to piss off a bride), she asked someone else to come in for me tomorrow, afraid I'd not show or that I'd call-in. Then that girl called me and yelled at me for not giving her more notice, when I wasn't planning for her to work anyway. ...me taking the wrap once again for someone else. I've never in my life "called-in sick to work" - no, I was always the sucker who got called-in and worked on my days off when someone else didn't show up. I've never given them reason to think I'd be so immature.
What is the problem? Is it that I don't ask credit or recognition when I do things, when I complete work? I don't wave a banner over my accomplishments. I've got a degree in Micro/molecular Biology and I never play that card. I never bring it up to somehow "prove" I deserve any kind of respect or pay from anyone; Nicci points it out to people if ever anyone hears about it at work.
If I were to do $6.40/hour level of work, I'd be resented by my coworker for not helping her. If I work as hard as she does (like I do), I get half the money and all the blame for anyone else's mistakes.
My bosses avoided me for a few days after my request to discuss my wages and how I was promised a raise that never happened and I am having problems getting my bills paid. One talks to me, finally telling me that I'll get paid $7/hour now, but not because I've earned it. No, it's compensation for babysitting I might have missed out on because of working full-time and late. Babysitting that pays $10/hour and is appreciated and feeds me well. She says they are not happy with my work and want me to be more enthusiastic. (I've been noted for my pep and good attitude by both clients and coworkers.) She says she heard complaints from stylists about my errors. (Who here is not human? Who is without err? Who does fifty things at once and forgets nothing? I am not disappointed in my memory. And when I take the blame without argument, why not say it's my fault?) I hear later from a coworker that the bosses claim there were three complaints today about me being rude. I have never been rude to anyone there, and my coworker has confirmed that. Not once have I rolled an eye. I can't fathom where that story may have come from. I hear that my bosses think that I'm "spacey" because I don't let things stress me out when several people are trying to make me do ten things at the same time, all "equally as important" as the next. What poppycock! It's called having a grip on reality and I am now losing it.
I feel down-trodden and abused. I am tired and I'm shocked. One minute I'm the bee's knees and the next I'm mud ("because that's dumb spelled backward" <-quote for Nick). I am broken. I have been used. My integrity has been slandered. Happy Cinco de Mayo. I'm putting in my notice tomorrow to quit in a week. I'm moving home. I'm going camping. I'm an inch tall and I'm afraid of being smushed.
I got home from work and tutoring, and I saw what was happening emotionally to me happening in the physical sense to a 12-ish year old girl next door. A woman (my neighbor, her aunt?) was grabbing her shirt by the neck and shaking her, yelling at her young face. She shoved the girl down onto the sidewalk on their front lawn as I watched from my front porch fifteen feet away, and bystanders poured into the streets like ants to an estranged crumb. The girl shouted a typical, "Get your fucking hands off me!" from the ground. Another aunt(?) ran up from across the street and grabbed her and began to scream at her, shaking the 5'1" doll again, shouting something 'redemptive' about not being allowed to cuss at them. That's when I finally cried. I felt like I could relate somehow, then guilt whispered something to me about her having it worse. There is so much worse but it doesn't make the joy of living to the point of pain any easier. It just makes it logical.
You have all my affection,
Brynne.
Please pray for me. I am breaking. My heart is breaking in a way I was not expecting.
I've been insulted. I am embarrassed. I've been taken for granted and belittled. I didn't think I had a pride issue and for some reason I tell myself that this is not related to pride, yet it seems to have been stripped of me consequently.
I've been working 40 hours a week at a hair salon. You all might have noticed rarely seeing me out anymore. I also tutor and babysit when I can and I'm still not making ends meet. "How is that possible?" you inquire. Do I live frivolously? I would not say so, in comparison to my American peers. Do I gamble it away? Certainly not. I can't help but attribute it to making $6.40/hour all week, with those hours cutting down on my chances of tutoring and babysitting (where I make double or triple as much). When I began, I was encouraged and thanked and appreciated. They needed help, I stayed at the reduced pay. They needed me to put together outfits with high heels, shower, blowdry and style my hair, and wear a face full of make-up every morning. They needed me to work more hours. They needed me to stock shelves, dust, and sweep. They added more to our responsibilities at work, though we were already constantly busy. I more often than not get no lunch break, especially when I work 9am to 7pm and later. I am kind and friendly to every person who works there or comes in that place. I am sweet to each and every bitch that tries to talk down to me. I smile and thank them and bid them all well. They promised a raise as soon as they made more money; it never happened, but the increase in work load sure happened.
With the fifty things at once that we are required to do, the interruptions that they give (because whatever any other employee wants done now is more important than what we're doing with the clients), and having no lunch - yes, I made mistakes. I forgot to erase some appointments when they got canceled. I forgot to tell the stylists their client was waiting sometimes (God forbid they come look for themselves). I forgot to write a new appointment on their personal schedule, after placing it on the master schedule sometimes. I booked appointments incorrectly sometimes (yes, I am new to the salon industry), took the blame, called the client or whatever, and fixed it. I've never skirted my responsibilities or blame. I do work other people are supposed to do.
I've never called in sick. I was sent home because I came in when I had food poisoning once. But since today when my boss told me I don't deserve a raise and I vocalized to her that I was frustrated that I had to miss the bridal party luncheon tomorrow (for which I am Maid of Honor- and you do NOT want to piss off a bride), she asked someone else to come in for me tomorrow, afraid I'd not show or that I'd call-in. Then that girl called me and yelled at me for not giving her more notice, when I wasn't planning for her to work anyway. ...me taking the wrap once again for someone else. I've never in my life "called-in sick to work" - no, I was always the sucker who got called-in and worked on my days off when someone else didn't show up. I've never given them reason to think I'd be so immature.
What is the problem? Is it that I don't ask credit or recognition when I do things, when I complete work? I don't wave a banner over my accomplishments. I've got a degree in Micro/molecular Biology and I never play that card. I never bring it up to somehow "prove" I deserve any kind of respect or pay from anyone; Nicci points it out to people if ever anyone hears about it at work.
If I were to do $6.40/hour level of work, I'd be resented by my coworker for not helping her. If I work as hard as she does (like I do), I get half the money and all the blame for anyone else's mistakes.
My bosses avoided me for a few days after my request to discuss my wages and how I was promised a raise that never happened and I am having problems getting my bills paid. One talks to me, finally telling me that I'll get paid $7/hour now, but not because I've earned it. No, it's compensation for babysitting I might have missed out on because of working full-time and late. Babysitting that pays $10/hour and is appreciated and feeds me well. She says they are not happy with my work and want me to be more enthusiastic. (I've been noted for my pep and good attitude by both clients and coworkers.) She says she heard complaints from stylists about my errors. (Who here is not human? Who is without err? Who does fifty things at once and forgets nothing? I am not disappointed in my memory. And when I take the blame without argument, why not say it's my fault?) I hear later from a coworker that the bosses claim there were three complaints today about me being rude. I have never been rude to anyone there, and my coworker has confirmed that. Not once have I rolled an eye. I can't fathom where that story may have come from. I hear that my bosses think that I'm "spacey" because I don't let things stress me out when several people are trying to make me do ten things at the same time, all "equally as important" as the next. What poppycock! It's called having a grip on reality and I am now losing it.
I feel down-trodden and abused. I am tired and I'm shocked. One minute I'm the bee's knees and the next I'm mud ("because that's dumb spelled backward" <-quote for Nick). I am broken. I have been used. My integrity has been slandered. Happy Cinco de Mayo. I'm putting in my notice tomorrow to quit in a week. I'm moving home. I'm going camping. I'm an inch tall and I'm afraid of being smushed.
I got home from work and tutoring, and I saw what was happening emotionally to me happening in the physical sense to a 12-ish year old girl next door. A woman (my neighbor, her aunt?) was grabbing her shirt by the neck and shaking her, yelling at her young face. She shoved the girl down onto the sidewalk on their front lawn as I watched from my front porch fifteen feet away, and bystanders poured into the streets like ants to an estranged crumb. The girl shouted a typical, "Get your fucking hands off me!" from the ground. Another aunt(?) ran up from across the street and grabbed her and began to scream at her, shaking the 5'1" doll again, shouting something 'redemptive' about not being allowed to cuss at them. That's when I finally cried. I felt like I could relate somehow, then guilt whispered something to me about her having it worse. There is so much worse but it doesn't make the joy of living to the point of pain any easier. It just makes it logical.
You have all my affection,
Brynne.