Sad bosses, happy employees, chocolate cake, daughter's hair, KITTIES!
Rough day at work yesterday. My boss's boss, whom I shall refer to as Martha, is a deeply unhappy individual. She rarely laughs, she hardly ever smiles, in short she pretty much is the complete opposite of me. Married but with no kids, nor any plans to have any. Empathy is not her strong point. So I was pissed off one day this past week when she told me I was not to wear a t-shirt and jeans to clean any more, that I must wear my uniform all day. Up to now, of course, I've been wearing jeans then changing into my uniform to do the demos. This edict is distressing as I do more cleaning of equipment than anyone I know, the room where I go to do it is warm and grubby (no one bothers to scrub it clean once they've done their equipment there), between the chemicals and water I usually get fairly well splattered by the time I'm done, and every Thursday once I'm done with my cleaning stint and have had lunch, I go out to the floor and demo. Yeah. I make and serve food to the public after working for hours in a room where outside garbage cans are brought to be emptied out and hosed down. I tried to argue with Martha, but got nowhere. She thought it would help if I wore a meat coat (white, waistlength, polyester, not waterproof) over my uniform. I think I'll just start wearing my uniform but bringing a second one. And it occurred to me while writing this that the people who do dishes in the prepared-food dishwashing area have plastic aprons I might be able to get one of. That would be preferable to the meat coat, as it would be water-proof yet leave my arms free, and not be so warm.
Mind you, Martha never cleans in the slop sink area (as it's called). I therefore found it offensive that she said, "Everybody has to clean their stuff there". Thank God I didn't say what I was thinking, which was, "Really? I never see you there!". However, I do think I'm the only person who has to clean their stuff in that room and then hand food out to the public. I may try to find another sink area which I can use. That would help because the nature of the crud I and my equipment would be near would be a touch less offensive.
Ultimately, what bugs me about this is the tendency to dole out Thou Shalt Nots without thinking of the repercussions. My father was the type of manager who would never ask an employee to do anything he wouldn't do, and it's hard for me to deal with managers who are nothing like that.
Of Martha's quirks I've been aware for some time. So my radar went off this week when she reprimanded me, and I wasn't surprised to hear from Judy, my direct supervisor, that M's watching me like a hawk. She's been asking Judy questions about me which would have been appropriate four or five months ago, but strike me as odd now. There is a particular type of bad supervisor who gets a burr under his or her saddle and focusses on an individual almost exclusively for a while, finding fault any way he or she can. M. is that type and everyone in the store knows it. Some people joke about not wanting to associate with people from her department for that reason. She left me alone for a long time, but something's set her off, Lord only knows what, and so I've got to endure her crap. Luckily, Judy is a reasonably okay person, and it's she who will write my review which is due this month. I spoke with Judy a bit yesterday, and she told me I have nothing to worry about. She often tells me I'm doing a wonderful job, an awesome job, so I have hope she's right. Unfortunately, I've been fired four times in my life. Twice the person doing it said things like, "Do you need a job; after all your husband's a lawyer "; one ex-boss actually said if I needed to work my husband wasn't a very good lawyer [Oh my God, would anybody dare say that to a man married to a female lawyer?]! So I easily get defensive and scared when I hit a bump in the road, losing sight of the good I do (and I know I do a lot!).
Over the next week or so I aim to write down a number of things I know I do well in this job, even if no one witnesses them other than the customers, so I'm prepared when it comes time for a review.
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One of my demos yesterday struck me as weird. I made a chocolate cake in a crock pot. Yup, you read that right. The recipe calls for pudding mix, cake mix, three times the cooking oil they usually call for, more eggs than usual, sour cream, and chocolate chips. You pour it in the slow cooker and cook it for two hours. For the first hour or so, it looks like chocolate soup. Then the edge sets and the center looks like Jabba the Hut, chocolate version. When it's done, it's an amazingly moist, totally yummy treat. Also not the slightest bit dietetic. When I finished it, I wondered how to get it out of the darn pot. Judy suggested scooping it out. The first time, at least, I wanted to try plating it. And I did! It made a terrific oval shape, two inches high. The next time I cook it, I think I'll try parchment to help get it out more easily.
The only thing missing from the recipe was the two-by-four to beat people off with when they see and smell it.
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I came home in a fragile mood last night, and Ray was totally sweet. He had stopped by earlier in the day, a rare thing for him, but he knew something was bothering me as soon as he saw me. After all, we've been together 23 years, almost 22 of it married. To each other. So when I came home he was helpful when I asked him to prepare dinner. Barbecue sandwiches, which mostly involve the toaster and the microwave. Em made me a salad. And Ray and I watched Brooklyn Lobster, a film produced by Martin Scorsese, but bearing no resemblance to stuff he's directed. Tender at times, harsh at times, real all the time. Like life.
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Today I dyed Em's hair, having previously bleached it in preparation a week or so ago.
Watched Mulan with her. Wonderful film, completely deserving of its awards.
Ran laundry. Started the ribs cooking. Two-part recipe. You grill them first, then cook them in an oven, or in my case, an electric counter-top roaster, with barbecue sauce thinned with beer.
Went outside and fixed a malfunctioning landscape light. Took it offline then reattached it and lo-and-behold, it works, dude. The connections get faulty over the years they are out there.
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Zoey got a collar today, plus a heart-shaped tag with her name, ours, and our phone number. Two pretty girls stylin', as it used to be said (and maybe still is):
Mind you, Martha never cleans in the slop sink area (as it's called). I therefore found it offensive that she said, "Everybody has to clean their stuff there". Thank God I didn't say what I was thinking, which was, "Really? I never see you there!". However, I do think I'm the only person who has to clean their stuff in that room and then hand food out to the public. I may try to find another sink area which I can use. That would help because the nature of the crud I and my equipment would be near would be a touch less offensive.
Ultimately, what bugs me about this is the tendency to dole out Thou Shalt Nots without thinking of the repercussions. My father was the type of manager who would never ask an employee to do anything he wouldn't do, and it's hard for me to deal with managers who are nothing like that.
Of Martha's quirks I've been aware for some time. So my radar went off this week when she reprimanded me, and I wasn't surprised to hear from Judy, my direct supervisor, that M's watching me like a hawk. She's been asking Judy questions about me which would have been appropriate four or five months ago, but strike me as odd now. There is a particular type of bad supervisor who gets a burr under his or her saddle and focusses on an individual almost exclusively for a while, finding fault any way he or she can. M. is that type and everyone in the store knows it. Some people joke about not wanting to associate with people from her department for that reason. She left me alone for a long time, but something's set her off, Lord only knows what, and so I've got to endure her crap. Luckily, Judy is a reasonably okay person, and it's she who will write my review which is due this month. I spoke with Judy a bit yesterday, and she told me I have nothing to worry about. She often tells me I'm doing a wonderful job, an awesome job, so I have hope she's right. Unfortunately, I've been fired four times in my life. Twice the person doing it said things like, "Do you need a job; after all your husband's a lawyer "; one ex-boss actually said if I needed to work my husband wasn't a very good lawyer [Oh my God, would anybody dare say that to a man married to a female lawyer?]! So I easily get defensive and scared when I hit a bump in the road, losing sight of the good I do (and I know I do a lot!).
Over the next week or so I aim to write down a number of things I know I do well in this job, even if no one witnesses them other than the customers, so I'm prepared when it comes time for a review.
_____________________________________
One of my demos yesterday struck me as weird. I made a chocolate cake in a crock pot. Yup, you read that right. The recipe calls for pudding mix, cake mix, three times the cooking oil they usually call for, more eggs than usual, sour cream, and chocolate chips. You pour it in the slow cooker and cook it for two hours. For the first hour or so, it looks like chocolate soup. Then the edge sets and the center looks like Jabba the Hut, chocolate version. When it's done, it's an amazingly moist, totally yummy treat. Also not the slightest bit dietetic. When I finished it, I wondered how to get it out of the darn pot. Judy suggested scooping it out. The first time, at least, I wanted to try plating it. And I did! It made a terrific oval shape, two inches high. The next time I cook it, I think I'll try parchment to help get it out more easily.
The only thing missing from the recipe was the two-by-four to beat people off with when they see and smell it.
______________________________________
I came home in a fragile mood last night, and Ray was totally sweet. He had stopped by earlier in the day, a rare thing for him, but he knew something was bothering me as soon as he saw me. After all, we've been together 23 years, almost 22 of it married. To each other. So when I came home he was helpful when I asked him to prepare dinner. Barbecue sandwiches, which mostly involve the toaster and the microwave. Em made me a salad. And Ray and I watched Brooklyn Lobster, a film produced by Martin Scorsese, but bearing no resemblance to stuff he's directed. Tender at times, harsh at times, real all the time. Like life.
______________________________________
Today I dyed Em's hair, having previously bleached it in preparation a week or so ago.
Watched Mulan with her. Wonderful film, completely deserving of its awards.
Ran laundry. Started the ribs cooking. Two-part recipe. You grill them first, then cook them in an oven, or in my case, an electric counter-top roaster, with barbecue sauce thinned with beer.
Went outside and fixed a malfunctioning landscape light. Took it offline then reattached it and lo-and-behold, it works, dude. The connections get faulty over the years they are out there.
_______________________________________
Zoey got a collar today, plus a heart-shaped tag with her name, ours, and our phone number. Two pretty girls stylin', as it used to be said (and maybe still is):