The only thing that does not die in this world is money...
I now have concrete proof as to why I will never live in, nor visit New York City, and for that matter, why I hate everything about it.
My boss.
After an exam today, I went in to help set up for the Tony Toni Tone, Blackstreet, Guy, After 7 concert. No one else was in yet, so I brought up cases of Mike's hard, Barcardi, Smirnoff, etc. so when everyone else got there, there'd be less to do and we could get to more important things. Still, no one around, so I distributed the cases to the stands myself, then went into a suite to chill for a couple minutes. Tom calls me, asks me where I'm at, then comes to meet me. He says he has a project for me. He wants me to split some of what I took to the stands, put it in a couple beer carts along with a couple cases of beer, some pop, water, and take it all down to the floor. That's cool, I'm not doing anything. So I go back to the stands, snipe off some extra bottles of everything, filled up two of the beer carts, took inventory on it, set up the counting sheets, and had them ready to go down. On my way down, Tom and Rebecca are walking toward me. Tom says to not take them down yet, as there's a pretty good chance that shit's gonna get stolen before the concert. So, as I'm turning around this cart holding 10 cases of beverages plus 160 lbs of ice, Rebecca has the balls to ask, "So when did you start working for us again?"
Flashback to Wednesday night. I came in between classes around 2:30 to set up my stand. Around 5:40, I walk into the office looking for Brad to ask him a question. Rebecca, from her comfortable chair, asks me, "So when are you gonna change," referring to the jeans and t-shirt I'm wearing as opposed to the shirt and tie we usually wear for events. I remind her that I have class from 6:30-9:30. She can only muster a slightly angry look, knowing full well that she knew this two weeks ago and forgot to scheudle someone in my place. Being mildly contientious, I come back after class to see if there's anything I can help with. I ask Pete what's up, and he gives me a warning that she already bitched at him about me missing this. Like the decent guy he is, he stood up for me, saying that I told her this two weeks ago and that I didn't "just call off", I actually had class.
Anyway, flash back to tonight, I fire back at her, "What?!? Since when does going to class constitute calling off? And did you forget about the previous three weekends in which I was the only one in the stand running shit?" And in typical New York class and eloquence, she said, "Whatever..."
Listen, I know you're my boss. I owe you a certain amount of respect. But this whole New York attitude needs to disappear if you want me to maintain any kind of respect. If you're going to act like you're constantly right and that any opinion you have is inherently right because you're from New York, then you're going to be short at least two supervisors. Just because a couple planes hit a couple buildings in your city does not mean you are owed a goddamn thing. Stop acting like it. You cannot be both the toughest city in the world(meaing that you deal with more stress and crime and whatnot on a daily basis and survive) and the greatest city in the world (meaning that everything is perfect and that there is nowhere in the world that anyone would want to live) at the same time. You need to realize that you are more in need of us that we are to you. Three out of the five of us supervisors are in the job market. $8.75 an hour is not much to temp Pete or I to come back next semester, considering we are both looking at salary positions outside of campus. If you don't start treating us like we deserve, considering we're getting paid exactly dick, we're out. Just a little food for thought.
To all of you out there reading this who are ready for the "real world" but still have campus jobs: Fuck campus jobs. They low-ball you because they know they can. Don't stay there any longer than you have to. Get a real job as soon as possible and, if at all possible, dick over your current employer. They're fucking you and they know it. Payback's a bitch...
My boss.
After an exam today, I went in to help set up for the Tony Toni Tone, Blackstreet, Guy, After 7 concert. No one else was in yet, so I brought up cases of Mike's hard, Barcardi, Smirnoff, etc. so when everyone else got there, there'd be less to do and we could get to more important things. Still, no one around, so I distributed the cases to the stands myself, then went into a suite to chill for a couple minutes. Tom calls me, asks me where I'm at, then comes to meet me. He says he has a project for me. He wants me to split some of what I took to the stands, put it in a couple beer carts along with a couple cases of beer, some pop, water, and take it all down to the floor. That's cool, I'm not doing anything. So I go back to the stands, snipe off some extra bottles of everything, filled up two of the beer carts, took inventory on it, set up the counting sheets, and had them ready to go down. On my way down, Tom and Rebecca are walking toward me. Tom says to not take them down yet, as there's a pretty good chance that shit's gonna get stolen before the concert. So, as I'm turning around this cart holding 10 cases of beverages plus 160 lbs of ice, Rebecca has the balls to ask, "So when did you start working for us again?"
Flashback to Wednesday night. I came in between classes around 2:30 to set up my stand. Around 5:40, I walk into the office looking for Brad to ask him a question. Rebecca, from her comfortable chair, asks me, "So when are you gonna change," referring to the jeans and t-shirt I'm wearing as opposed to the shirt and tie we usually wear for events. I remind her that I have class from 6:30-9:30. She can only muster a slightly angry look, knowing full well that she knew this two weeks ago and forgot to scheudle someone in my place. Being mildly contientious, I come back after class to see if there's anything I can help with. I ask Pete what's up, and he gives me a warning that she already bitched at him about me missing this. Like the decent guy he is, he stood up for me, saying that I told her this two weeks ago and that I didn't "just call off", I actually had class.
Anyway, flash back to tonight, I fire back at her, "What?!? Since when does going to class constitute calling off? And did you forget about the previous three weekends in which I was the only one in the stand running shit?" And in typical New York class and eloquence, she said, "Whatever..."
Listen, I know you're my boss. I owe you a certain amount of respect. But this whole New York attitude needs to disappear if you want me to maintain any kind of respect. If you're going to act like you're constantly right and that any opinion you have is inherently right because you're from New York, then you're going to be short at least two supervisors. Just because a couple planes hit a couple buildings in your city does not mean you are owed a goddamn thing. Stop acting like it. You cannot be both the toughest city in the world(meaing that you deal with more stress and crime and whatnot on a daily basis and survive) and the greatest city in the world (meaning that everything is perfect and that there is nowhere in the world that anyone would want to live) at the same time. You need to realize that you are more in need of us that we are to you. Three out of the five of us supervisors are in the job market. $8.75 an hour is not much to temp Pete or I to come back next semester, considering we are both looking at salary positions outside of campus. If you don't start treating us like we deserve, considering we're getting paid exactly dick, we're out. Just a little food for thought.
To all of you out there reading this who are ready for the "real world" but still have campus jobs: Fuck campus jobs. They low-ball you because they know they can. Don't stay there any longer than you have to. Get a real job as soon as possible and, if at all possible, dick over your current employer. They're fucking you and they know it. Payback's a bitch...