The Workplace Parable
Yesterday, I was asked by one of my managers if I could come into work on Saturday to help out on Valentines Day. Seeing that I'm getting ready to move, the extra cash sounded good. However, seeing that I was moving on Sunday, as in today, it was putting a serious crimp in my schedule. However, after I was assured that they simply wanted extra people on so that they'd be ready for any early rush and that I would be the first cut, I accepted.
I'm sure you can see the upcoming "Clerks" line here, right? I wasn't even supposed to be here today?
Turns out said manager just decided to flat out lie to me. They were actually one person short, so I was their fill-in person. Oh, and they scheduled me as the closer. After throwing a fit (I believe my exact words were screaming "Are you fucking kidding me?"), I was scheduled first cut, though I knew full well I wouldn't be let go early.
Now this is irritating enough, but worst of all? My section was what an old manager at a different stored used to refer to as 'choked'. Essentially, you are sat very slowly and with small parties in hopes that you can be cut early so they can be saved some hours, which for scheduling purposes, rate somewhere between gold and crude oil for worth in the restaurant industry. Of course, it's sometimes done to punish a server, so perhaps someone was offended by my outburst.
Mind you, I could have dealt with this; I came into work, made some money and didn't have to work very hard to do it. But then, due to their brilliant scheduling, I had to stay an extra half hour to finish work other servers should have been doing. Then, as the manager who started this in the first place is cashing me out, that person glances at the amount I had in sales and comments how low they are.
Amazingly, I let said manager live.
I took time out of my schedule, inconvenienced my girlfriend (who had to try to pack our stuff by herself) and essentially had my goodwill abused. So now, it's almost 2:30AM and I'm going to sleep when I finish this post. I'll be up in five hours to finish packing and take apart my computer and my desk. Then I get to move across town, unpack my stuff, arrange my apartment, have the cable guy install everything, change all my computer settings, buy groceries to restock the house and then collapse into a sore heap at my new place.
The moral of this story? It's for my managers.
This is why I don't answer my phone when you call.
I'm sure you can see the upcoming "Clerks" line here, right? I wasn't even supposed to be here today?
Turns out said manager just decided to flat out lie to me. They were actually one person short, so I was their fill-in person. Oh, and they scheduled me as the closer. After throwing a fit (I believe my exact words were screaming "Are you fucking kidding me?"), I was scheduled first cut, though I knew full well I wouldn't be let go early.
Now this is irritating enough, but worst of all? My section was what an old manager at a different stored used to refer to as 'choked'. Essentially, you are sat very slowly and with small parties in hopes that you can be cut early so they can be saved some hours, which for scheduling purposes, rate somewhere between gold and crude oil for worth in the restaurant industry. Of course, it's sometimes done to punish a server, so perhaps someone was offended by my outburst.
Mind you, I could have dealt with this; I came into work, made some money and didn't have to work very hard to do it. But then, due to their brilliant scheduling, I had to stay an extra half hour to finish work other servers should have been doing. Then, as the manager who started this in the first place is cashing me out, that person glances at the amount I had in sales and comments how low they are.
Amazingly, I let said manager live.
I took time out of my schedule, inconvenienced my girlfriend (who had to try to pack our stuff by herself) and essentially had my goodwill abused. So now, it's almost 2:30AM and I'm going to sleep when I finish this post. I'll be up in five hours to finish packing and take apart my computer and my desk. Then I get to move across town, unpack my stuff, arrange my apartment, have the cable guy install everything, change all my computer settings, buy groceries to restock the house and then collapse into a sore heap at my new place.
The moral of this story? It's for my managers.
This is why I don't answer my phone when you call.