i win! i win!
i quit that fucking job like a motherfucker.
last night, when i went in to work, the "executive chef"(who never went to culinary school and is, therefore, not a chef), said, "let's have a seat and talk about a few things first." alright, fine. i have a few concerns i'd like to voice, anyway. . .like the fact that i'm not making ANY FUCKING MONEY since my alcoholic bosses WON'T ADVERTISE. psh. fine dining, my ass. anyhoo -- first item of business:
-there will be no more employee drinking during business hours.
...
yes, there was an audible laugh from ms. bone.
...
"teresa, do you have something to say?"
"well, yes, but i don't think you need to hear it."
"no, go ahead. this is an open discussion."
"no, i really don't think it's necessary; you know what it is."
"what is it teresa, i'm really interested." [real sarcastic-like. just asking for a mild tellin']
now, he done been warned twice 'bout the attitude he's about to get.
"well, i'm not the one running up a $100 bar tab every night."
ahem.
so, anyway, the bullshit conversation kept going like this and like this on & on & on, with some expletives & slightly raised voices. then, when i realized that i was no longer paying attention, i stood up, put on my jacket and said: (now, here's the part where i wish i'd had an audience)
"you know what, chris? this sucks. fuck this place, fuck you. i'm out."
then he asked me if i was quitting.
yes, he IS really that stupid.
well, i left, feeling quite proud and huge, but broke and unemployed (the only new thing was the unemployed part). i stopped and grabbed a paper, you know, for the classifieds. go by ben's & by whitney's to brag on my victory & then go home to reward myself with a stoning. sidenote: they called whitney three times while i was there to ask her to come in to work. HA! and, this is, maybe, the best part (except for the whole tellin' of the not-boss):
when i get home, there is a message to call kyle at the globe (jon: "sounds important"), where i have just been offered a job starting tuesday.
talk about yer good karma.
last night, when i went in to work, the "executive chef"(who never went to culinary school and is, therefore, not a chef), said, "let's have a seat and talk about a few things first." alright, fine. i have a few concerns i'd like to voice, anyway. . .like the fact that i'm not making ANY FUCKING MONEY since my alcoholic bosses WON'T ADVERTISE. psh. fine dining, my ass. anyhoo -- first item of business:
-there will be no more employee drinking during business hours.
...
yes, there was an audible laugh from ms. bone.
...
"teresa, do you have something to say?"
"well, yes, but i don't think you need to hear it."
"no, go ahead. this is an open discussion."
"no, i really don't think it's necessary; you know what it is."
"what is it teresa, i'm really interested." [real sarcastic-like. just asking for a mild tellin']
now, he done been warned twice 'bout the attitude he's about to get.
"well, i'm not the one running up a $100 bar tab every night."
ahem.
so, anyway, the bullshit conversation kept going like this and like this on & on & on, with some expletives & slightly raised voices. then, when i realized that i was no longer paying attention, i stood up, put on my jacket and said: (now, here's the part where i wish i'd had an audience)
"you know what, chris? this sucks. fuck this place, fuck you. i'm out."
then he asked me if i was quitting.
yes, he IS really that stupid.
well, i left, feeling quite proud and huge, but broke and unemployed (the only new thing was the unemployed part). i stopped and grabbed a paper, you know, for the classifieds. go by ben's & by whitney's to brag on my victory & then go home to reward myself with a stoning. sidenote: they called whitney three times while i was there to ask her to come in to work. HA! and, this is, maybe, the best part (except for the whole tellin' of the not-boss):
when i get home, there is a message to call kyle at the globe (jon: "sounds important"), where i have just been offered a job starting tuesday.
talk about yer good karma.