I'm not so morbid as to write about actual dead coworkers. But: the cold hard fact of a job at Captain Rig's is that at any moment you could get fired. Or just get tired of the nonsense and quit. Blaze of glory!! Here is our roll call...
1- So, so many new people who walk thru the door filled with hope and innocence. A rough count of the people who have left before making it thru training: 9 And people who have made it thru training to quit about 1 Saturday shift in: 5
2- Total number of people with names like strippers to quit: 2 (much to my amusement and dismay.) I expect this total to climb to 3 shortly as pole dancer #3 walked in last night.
3: Youth of America: 4 (1 quit outright. 2 politely gave notice. 1 was fired after making the biggest mistake ever.)
4: The bad people: 4
-Karen (will need to find otherways to make $ to pay for much needed dental work.)
-The Nemesis (of my HWF)
-The Tattletale (good riddance)
-the Flighty Waitress (lots of drama here!)
5: 1 cook. BIG blaze of glory! Awesome!!!
6: 3 hostesses. Complete turnover of the front desk.
7: 3 random bus-people. Very confusing, as "we don't HAVE bus-people!"
8: I'm editing this hours later to add someone VERY important! Shrek! The big, bumbling be-speckled close talker who oddly lasted about 5 weeks. Egads.... And sadly, the very nice lady who helped me get thru my first few horrific shifts (she got a better job..)
Holy Crap! So in my 7 months there 33 people have been in-and-out- that is really astonishing. If only Ashley, Jan and Gina were on the list. I can only hope they are soon to follow! (haha, I'm labeling this under Avoidence of Work becasue getting fired or quitting is definately avoiding work!)
Showing posts with label Youth of America. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Youth of America. Show all posts
Monday, March 22, 2010
Thursday, March 11, 2010
My Adventure in Excellent Service: Part 1
Quiet times had once again descended upon the restaurant. And by quiet, I actually mean extremely DEAD.
Needing to do something to amuse myself I declared boldly (to no one in particular) that I would become dedicated to the pursuit of giving the most excellent service known to man. I would lay it on so thick that people would be handing me 100% tips without even thinking about it. I would become insanely wealthy and quit. In actuality, I was just curious to see that if stepping up my game a bit might actually have any consequence. (being that I consistently average 22-25% minimum- which is pretty good.) Being that my patience with Captain Rig's was wearing thin I decided that a one day trial of Excellent service was about all I could handle. After that I would go back to by old ways of spitting in peoples soup and screaming "WHATCHA WANT" to take an order.
(I also decided that if I were to find myself laden with Canadians that all bets were off.)
The night in question was slow enough to guarantee that I would be able to perform my act of Excellent waiting- and that the kitchen would not be too busy to be slow and screw me all up. Things progressed nicely and I found that although people were astonished to listen to me recite by memory the 17 specials, and were pleased to have instant water refills, immediate crumb wipe-age and absurdly detailed descriptions of the desserts my tips stayed put in my same 22-25% range.
Part of the way thru the night I was seated with a mother/teen daughter combo. This is not always the most promising situation but my Mom and I enjoy dining together on a regular basis and always appreciate good service (and tip accordingly, obvi.) So I brought my infamous "A Game" to this table and regaled them with my knowledge of San Manzano Tomatoes, attended to their every request with a flourish and a smile and was altogether delightful. Typically little teen girls like me, because I am not so old as to be an uncool parental authority figure. This girl however was deeply imbedded in some sort of emo subculture and was clearly very sad and depressed about her 13 year old life. She moped about, shaking her hair over her face and brooding over Twilight and death (I don't know. I'm just guessing!) After to attending to them like some kind of freaking superhero waitress I went over to clear their plates and to offer them an excellent homemade (at some others home) dessert. The Mom said to me after I dished out the tempting offer of a luscious tiramisu "You know.... There is something about your voice that REALLY bothers me.... Maybe it is just because you are SO loud!" Horrified and deeply offended I looked at her, agog. Thinking back on every interaction I had with them I realized that I most certainly had not been loud, brash or anything but extra nurturing and friendly. My hackles were up! Biting back all kinds of inappropriate things I plastered on my biggest, toothiest grin and said "I'm so sorry that you were offended by mo tone or volume. I must make sure that when I talk that even people who are listening to their ipods can hear me...." (with a sideways look at the princess of the ear buds, who scowled at me and buried herself deeper into the banquette.) Clearing their plates away the Mom continued "The little princess did not like her dinner but didn't want me to say anything." Looking at the offending dish I discovered that as inedible as it had been most of it was gone. "I'm sorry to hear that" I said dryly "What seems to have been the problem?" I was addressing the emo princess but she wanted nothing to do with me, and she turned up the volume on her ipod while rolling her eyes in disgust at the incompetence of adults. (at this age, if I had acted like this i would have been sent to sit in the car. Oh, after having my ipod ripped from my person, my hat removed from my head and my bad attitude washed off my face. but we don't discipline our children in these times...) "Oh nothing...." sighed the indulgant Mom "she just didn't like it...." Knowing that I had no chance for a good tip at this table I calmly reached out and removed a bud from emo princess ear "Hey" I said with the utmost friendliness "If you don't like your dinner and you don't tell me.... There is NOTHING that I can do about it! So... You just remember that for next time, ok?" Gently replacing her ear but I gave her a hearty pat on the shoulder (to piss her off? or because I wanted to slap her sour expression off her face? I'm not telling...)
I delivered the check for the table, now speaking to them in the very most hushed of whispers while looking in the other direction (passive aggression, anyone? with a side of fries?) I did not care because I know it was a lost cause and I figured if I wasn't going to make bank then I better have a laugh. Upon picking up the check I was genuinely shocked to fine a tip over 20%. Go figure!
To be continued...... Will I have more drama on the night of good service? Will I end up making any cash? Wait and see!
Needing to do something to amuse myself I declared boldly (to no one in particular) that I would become dedicated to the pursuit of giving the most excellent service known to man. I would lay it on so thick that people would be handing me 100% tips without even thinking about it. I would become insanely wealthy and quit. In actuality, I was just curious to see that if stepping up my game a bit might actually have any consequence. (being that I consistently average 22-25% minimum- which is pretty good.) Being that my patience with Captain Rig's was wearing thin I decided that a one day trial of Excellent service was about all I could handle. After that I would go back to by old ways of spitting in peoples soup and screaming "WHATCHA WANT" to take an order.
(I also decided that if I were to find myself laden with Canadians that all bets were off.)
The night in question was slow enough to guarantee that I would be able to perform my act of Excellent waiting- and that the kitchen would not be too busy to be slow and screw me all up. Things progressed nicely and I found that although people were astonished to listen to me recite by memory the 17 specials, and were pleased to have instant water refills, immediate crumb wipe-age and absurdly detailed descriptions of the desserts my tips stayed put in my same 22-25% range.
Part of the way thru the night I was seated with a mother/teen daughter combo. This is not always the most promising situation but my Mom and I enjoy dining together on a regular basis and always appreciate good service (and tip accordingly, obvi.) So I brought my infamous "A Game" to this table and regaled them with my knowledge of San Manzano Tomatoes, attended to their every request with a flourish and a smile and was altogether delightful. Typically little teen girls like me, because I am not so old as to be an uncool parental authority figure. This girl however was deeply imbedded in some sort of emo subculture and was clearly very sad and depressed about her 13 year old life. She moped about, shaking her hair over her face and brooding over Twilight and death (I don't know. I'm just guessing!) After to attending to them like some kind of freaking superhero waitress I went over to clear their plates and to offer them an excellent homemade (at some others home) dessert. The Mom said to me after I dished out the tempting offer of a luscious tiramisu "You know.... There is something about your voice that REALLY bothers me.... Maybe it is just because you are SO loud!" Horrified and deeply offended I looked at her, agog. Thinking back on every interaction I had with them I realized that I most certainly had not been loud, brash or anything but extra nurturing and friendly. My hackles were up! Biting back all kinds of inappropriate things I plastered on my biggest, toothiest grin and said "I'm so sorry that you were offended by mo tone or volume. I must make sure that when I talk that even people who are listening to their ipods can hear me...." (with a sideways look at the princess of the ear buds, who scowled at me and buried herself deeper into the banquette.) Clearing their plates away the Mom continued "The little princess did not like her dinner but didn't want me to say anything." Looking at the offending dish I discovered that as inedible as it had been most of it was gone. "I'm sorry to hear that" I said dryly "What seems to have been the problem?" I was addressing the emo princess but she wanted nothing to do with me, and she turned up the volume on her ipod while rolling her eyes in disgust at the incompetence of adults. (at this age, if I had acted like this i would have been sent to sit in the car. Oh, after having my ipod ripped from my person, my hat removed from my head and my bad attitude washed off my face. but we don't discipline our children in these times...) "Oh nothing...." sighed the indulgant Mom "she just didn't like it...." Knowing that I had no chance for a good tip at this table I calmly reached out and removed a bud from emo princess ear "Hey" I said with the utmost friendliness "If you don't like your dinner and you don't tell me.... There is NOTHING that I can do about it! So... You just remember that for next time, ok?" Gently replacing her ear but I gave her a hearty pat on the shoulder (to piss her off? or because I wanted to slap her sour expression off her face? I'm not telling...)
I delivered the check for the table, now speaking to them in the very most hushed of whispers while looking in the other direction (passive aggression, anyone? with a side of fries?) I did not care because I know it was a lost cause and I figured if I wasn't going to make bank then I better have a laugh. Upon picking up the check I was genuinely shocked to fine a tip over 20%. Go figure!
To be continued...... Will I have more drama on the night of good service? Will I end up making any cash? Wait and see!
Friday, January 15, 2010
If you gotta problem yo, I'll solve it. Or not?
As a rule I am quite a good problem solver. I can help you to jump start your car, I am not scared to help you check out funny noises in the dead of the night (well, I am. but I won't admit to it! oops, just did.) Really, I am a fairly handy person to have around when it comes to being a minor problem solver- Ms. Fixit type of gal.
One problem that I absolutely CAN NOT fix? The problem with people being bat shit crazy.
It is a well established fact in my brain that Captain Rigatoni and Bobbi Rigatoni are quite far off the deep end of anything that pertains to reality. The way that the pair of them interact with the staff, each other and their own freaking family constantly appalls me and leaves me shaking my head in dismay.
Let me set the scene for you. As is the norm on a Friday or Saturday night we were all summoned to have a big, rousing pre-shift meeting. We were actually called to the dining room for this one, which rocks my socks since it means we get to sit down!! We all gathered around, and I placed myself as far away from Capt Rig as is humanly possibly, and situated myself behind the tallest person there because invisibility is desirable.
Captain Rig strode in, rubbing his temples in a most aggravated manner and adjusting his bluetooth headset so that we could see how busy and important he was. It is difficult to forget even for a minute that we are working with The Most Famous Person in the Land as we are all constantly reminded of that fact. "All of YOUS are trying to put me out of business!" was his statement du jour "I have never seen this place run so poorly!!" He continued on in a fairly normal (for him) way, expressing his usual level of disgust in the fact that all of us tend to tell people to eat elsewhere, scream obscenities at his guests, lock the doors and turn off the lights, and spit on peoples food right in front of them. Normal stuff, you know? I was very happy to be sitting and hiding and was inching oh-so-close to dozing off (or going to my happy daydream place. mmmmm, cozy) when the meeting took a turn for the worse. Captain Rig stood in front of the Male youth of America and pointed a chubby finger at him. "THIS is one of the big problems" he seethed "I have said from the beginning that this guy has no place in my restaurant, and no business waiting tables for me!!" THUNK! That's the sound of my chin hitting the table in a bit of shock (I quickly picked it up and resumed my hiding.) The poor MYOA had no opportunity to run for cover as he was front and center, and clearly the object of Capt Rig's attention and fury. DOOM! I watched in growing horror as Capt Rig demanded that the MYOA tell him the exact ingredients that made up several dishes on the menu. Cracking under the scrutiny the poor YOA was unable to even remember his own name, much less the amount of salt that goes into the meatballs. Stammering somewhat, but maintaining a remarkable level of cool headedness the YOA tried very hard to do the Captain's bidding (with no luck.) FURIOUS at the incompetence of his freshly minted and still untrained staff member he continued making an example of the poor guy. Stepping in, Bobbi joined in the fun and carnage. "Bobbi" said the Captain, slapping his palm to his forehead "Can you even begin to believe this guy? Why is he even working for us? WHY?" Bobbi eyed the YOA with nothing short of unbridled hatred, "DISGUSTING" she proclaimed, voice dripping with insanity "Just. Disgusting." All of my radars that detect extreme psychosis were going off hard core in my brain at this point as I continued to watch this poor kid get strung up by his toenails and publicly flogged. I snuck a peek around the room at my coworkers, wondering if my feelings of shock/disgust/pity were mirrored on their faces. Not surprisingly I noticed that Jan, Karen and Gina were looking pleased and smug, knowing that if they were called upon to recite recipes that they could do so with ease. They were practically jumping up and down saying "pick me! ask me! I'm crazy too, just like you Captain Rig!" Taking no notice of their flailing arms and eager expressions Captain Rig finished up his rant of terror. "This here is a good kid" he said somberly to YOA "but that doesn't mean that he should work here. All of yous should memorize the menu as I will be quizzing you on it, and firing the people who get it WRONG!!" As we scattered, one of the newer girls (the one who has a tendency to tattletale like a 3rd grader) announced her grand plan to make flash cards with menu items on them and diligently study them. Rolling my eyes with reckless abandon I held back the urge to slap her silly. Come ON people, you have just witnessed the execution of somebody's frigging SOUL and you prattle on about flashcards?? Sheesh, the lack of humanity of 98% of the people I work with is horrifying.
It was no great shock to me that Captain Rig maxed out my psychosis radar, and to see Bobbi so willingly jump on the beat down bandwagon was expected. How do they manage to live with themselves after so easily dishing out public humiliation? Like I mentioned before- bat shit crazy is a problem I can not fix- and the two of them are way beyond help.
A great side note- despite suffering horrible humiliation the MYOA has stuck it out and continues to work there in a manner that seems quite acceptable to my uneducated eyes. I'm not sure if I would have been able to stand continuing on after such an episode, so good for him for being such a tough guy.
One problem that I absolutely CAN NOT fix? The problem with people being bat shit crazy.
It is a well established fact in my brain that Captain Rigatoni and Bobbi Rigatoni are quite far off the deep end of anything that pertains to reality. The way that the pair of them interact with the staff, each other and their own freaking family constantly appalls me and leaves me shaking my head in dismay.
Let me set the scene for you. As is the norm on a Friday or Saturday night we were all summoned to have a big, rousing pre-shift meeting. We were actually called to the dining room for this one, which rocks my socks since it means we get to sit down!! We all gathered around, and I placed myself as far away from Capt Rig as is humanly possibly, and situated myself behind the tallest person there because invisibility is desirable.
Captain Rig strode in, rubbing his temples in a most aggravated manner and adjusting his bluetooth headset so that we could see how busy and important he was. It is difficult to forget even for a minute that we are working with The Most Famous Person in the Land as we are all constantly reminded of that fact. "All of YOUS are trying to put me out of business!" was his statement du jour "I have never seen this place run so poorly!!" He continued on in a fairly normal (for him) way, expressing his usual level of disgust in the fact that all of us tend to tell people to eat elsewhere, scream obscenities at his guests, lock the doors and turn off the lights, and spit on peoples food right in front of them. Normal stuff, you know? I was very happy to be sitting and hiding and was inching oh-so-close to dozing off (or going to my happy daydream place. mmmmm, cozy) when the meeting took a turn for the worse. Captain Rig stood in front of the Male youth of America and pointed a chubby finger at him. "THIS is one of the big problems" he seethed "I have said from the beginning that this guy has no place in my restaurant, and no business waiting tables for me!!" THUNK! That's the sound of my chin hitting the table in a bit of shock (I quickly picked it up and resumed my hiding.) The poor MYOA had no opportunity to run for cover as he was front and center, and clearly the object of Capt Rig's attention and fury. DOOM! I watched in growing horror as Capt Rig demanded that the MYOA tell him the exact ingredients that made up several dishes on the menu. Cracking under the scrutiny the poor YOA was unable to even remember his own name, much less the amount of salt that goes into the meatballs. Stammering somewhat, but maintaining a remarkable level of cool headedness the YOA tried very hard to do the Captain's bidding (with no luck.) FURIOUS at the incompetence of his freshly minted and still untrained staff member he continued making an example of the poor guy. Stepping in, Bobbi joined in the fun and carnage. "Bobbi" said the Captain, slapping his palm to his forehead "Can you even begin to believe this guy? Why is he even working for us? WHY?" Bobbi eyed the YOA with nothing short of unbridled hatred, "DISGUSTING" she proclaimed, voice dripping with insanity "Just. Disgusting." All of my radars that detect extreme psychosis were going off hard core in my brain at this point as I continued to watch this poor kid get strung up by his toenails and publicly flogged. I snuck a peek around the room at my coworkers, wondering if my feelings of shock/disgust/pity were mirrored on their faces. Not surprisingly I noticed that Jan, Karen and Gina were looking pleased and smug, knowing that if they were called upon to recite recipes that they could do so with ease. They were practically jumping up and down saying "pick me! ask me! I'm crazy too, just like you Captain Rig!" Taking no notice of their flailing arms and eager expressions Captain Rig finished up his rant of terror. "This here is a good kid" he said somberly to YOA "but that doesn't mean that he should work here. All of yous should memorize the menu as I will be quizzing you on it, and firing the people who get it WRONG!!" As we scattered, one of the newer girls (the one who has a tendency to tattletale like a 3rd grader) announced her grand plan to make flash cards with menu items on them and diligently study them. Rolling my eyes with reckless abandon I held back the urge to slap her silly. Come ON people, you have just witnessed the execution of somebody's frigging SOUL and you prattle on about flashcards?? Sheesh, the lack of humanity of 98% of the people I work with is horrifying.
It was no great shock to me that Captain Rig maxed out my psychosis radar, and to see Bobbi so willingly jump on the beat down bandwagon was expected. How do they manage to live with themselves after so easily dishing out public humiliation? Like I mentioned before- bat shit crazy is a problem I can not fix- and the two of them are way beyond help.
A great side note- despite suffering horrible humiliation the MYOA has stuck it out and continues to work there in a manner that seems quite acceptable to my uneducated eyes. I'm not sure if I would have been able to stand continuing on after such an episode, so good for him for being such a tough guy.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Youth Of America: Part 2, Where we sing about Troll Tolls
**Note: This episode of MAW is not going to seem very funny if you do not watch It's Always Sunny (especially last season.) You have been warned**
During my time at Captain Rig's the number of funny things that have happened are so small that I can count them on one hand. With one finger (and you know which one, ohhhh snap!) The arrival of the youth of America has not changed that much, or I didn't think so until a few nights ago....
Recently, Karen has taken over the title of the Axis Of Evil in our little world. This is an amazing feat as the trifecta of Bobbi/Ashley/Jan were all well in the running. However, Karen truly is a vile woman with no soul. More on her antics another time.... Anyway, as she spews her vile bile all over us (word vomit, ok?) I think sarcastic things in my head and am so glad that she is not a mind reader!! Essentially, any chance to give her a hard time id very much looked forward to- and almost impossible to find. (and unlike Jan- giving her trouble does not get her to lighten up. it makes her mad!)
It was a slow night, which is the norm at this time of year. It gives me plenty of time to think about how lucky I am that I do not have a bubble over my head that all my thoughts pop into. Boredom makes everyone crabby, and as I observe their grouchiness I run a bit of inner commentary- not always polite. As I made my way to the server station to help Random Male Youth Of America learn how to make a cappuccino Karen stepped out and blocked my path. She was in an unusually jovial mood, and this was her way of having a laugh. "No entry" she declared "until you pay the toll." "Hmmmm" I mused aloud "Would that be a TROLL TOLL Karen?" RMYOA's head snapped up in interest at the change in events. Piping in he said "Yep. You have to PAY the Troll Toll, to get into the boy's (long pause) SOUL?!!" Snapping my fingers solemnly, I continued in severe monotone and with a stern expression "You have to pay the TROLL TOLL to GET IN." At this point we were both snapping along in rhythm, and reaching the end of our tune, we firmly declared in unison "TROLL TOLL" Completely baffled and looking rather gob smacked Karen declared us both to be certifiably insane, and retarded. To her retreating back I said "It's ok that you don't get it Karen, it's NATURE, shit HAPPENS there's nothing you can do!" I heard a little humming from the RMYOA which sounded suspiciously like a mention of karate and friendship for everyone.... We mentally high fived each other, and continued with the day like nothing ever happened. Freaking. Awesome.
During my time at Captain Rig's the number of funny things that have happened are so small that I can count them on one hand. With one finger (and you know which one, ohhhh snap!) The arrival of the youth of America has not changed that much, or I didn't think so until a few nights ago....
Recently, Karen has taken over the title of the Axis Of Evil in our little world. This is an amazing feat as the trifecta of Bobbi/Ashley/Jan were all well in the running. However, Karen truly is a vile woman with no soul. More on her antics another time.... Anyway, as she spews her vile bile all over us (word vomit, ok?) I think sarcastic things in my head and am so glad that she is not a mind reader!! Essentially, any chance to give her a hard time id very much looked forward to- and almost impossible to find. (and unlike Jan- giving her trouble does not get her to lighten up. it makes her mad!)
It was a slow night, which is the norm at this time of year. It gives me plenty of time to think about how lucky I am that I do not have a bubble over my head that all my thoughts pop into. Boredom makes everyone crabby, and as I observe their grouchiness I run a bit of inner commentary- not always polite. As I made my way to the server station to help Random Male Youth Of America learn how to make a cappuccino Karen stepped out and blocked my path. She was in an unusually jovial mood, and this was her way of having a laugh. "No entry" she declared "until you pay the toll." "Hmmmm" I mused aloud "Would that be a TROLL TOLL Karen?" RMYOA's head snapped up in interest at the change in events. Piping in he said "Yep. You have to PAY the Troll Toll, to get into the boy's (long pause) SOUL?!!" Snapping my fingers solemnly, I continued in severe monotone and with a stern expression "You have to pay the TROLL TOLL to GET IN." At this point we were both snapping along in rhythm, and reaching the end of our tune, we firmly declared in unison "TROLL TOLL" Completely baffled and looking rather gob smacked Karen declared us both to be certifiably insane, and retarded. To her retreating back I said "It's ok that you don't get it Karen, it's NATURE, shit HAPPENS there's nothing you can do!" I heard a little humming from the RMYOA which sounded suspiciously like a mention of karate and friendship for everyone.... We mentally high fived each other, and continued with the day like nothing ever happened. Freaking. Awesome.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Youth Of America, Part 1
At Captain Rigatoni's I am indeed a middleagedwaitress in the sense that my age accurately represents the median of the employees (but median-aged-waitress does not have the same cheerful ring to it..) There are the crusty old codgers along with a rather sudden appearance of the Youth Of America.
I have befriended one of these innocent young things, in the hopes of corrupting her youthful mind. Just kidding, it's more along the lines of "the new people have to stick together." Spending time at work with her makes me reminisce about my younger days. (which is not something that I long for wistfully, believe me.) I wonder fairly often, if she is actually as innocent, naive and hopeful as she seems or am I just jaded, flawed and old? Psssssh- we're certainly going with the first choice on this! Poor girl, she in under the terribly misguided impression that the world can be changed if she speaks up. She is still basking in the youthful glow of hope, that her words can change a nation. Or in our case, the kitchen. Sadly, what she does not see is that by saying what is on her mind she is being labled as a "complainer and troublemaker" and her stock is going down in the eyes of the management. I have gently attempted to guide her in a different direction, one that I call "shut the f%%&&** UP!!" as sadly, one "BAD SEED" makes life a bit tricky for the rest of us. Don't get me wrong- she is right in what she is speaking up about. However, in CR's twisted system the mention that something might not be quite right is a huge offence. (which is the #1 sign of a dysfunctional company, according to my sources.)
This gal and I "hang out" at work- meaning that we fold many thousands of napkins, slice forty billion croutons and speak in hushed tones in code about our magical work experiences.
The trouble with this little arrangement is that when Bobbi sees us together she imagines that we are creating a force against her. A Dumbledore's Army, if you will. DUN, DUN, DUN, DUNNNNNNN!!!!! (that's doom music.) Bobbi thinks that instead of chatting about our houses, pets and husbands/boyfriends we are probably talking about overtaking her evil empire (which we clearly are.)
All of this insanity came to a head the other evening when abruptly, at 8:45 (on a Friday night) the Youth Of America was cut- and so was I. I was baffled, to say the least because to cut people that late on a Friday is unheard of. Fortunately, one of the other new girls (who is old like yours truly) snagged me and dragged me into the walk in cooler. "You have to hear this" she said- nervously looking around for any signs of ears on the walls "You, and the rest of the YOA are being POISONED against this place by your work friend- according to Bobbi." "WHAT" I screeched indignantly, "WTF???" "No, seriously" she continued with gravity "You have to watch your back." "Hmmm" I sniffed" with irritation "I am clearly going to have to find a remedy for this poison....."
In real life, a situation like this would make me want to really create some sort of force against crazy unstable Bobbi, and slowly take over her Empire of Hate. But, I know better. If she continues to think that we are all doing the Devil's work she will systematically cut our shifts until all of us are forced to quit. So, I dished out a bug ration of (skewed) reason to the YOA and persuaded them to keep the complaining to a minimum.
Stay tuned to see if my advice fell upon deaf ears....
I have befriended one of these innocent young things, in the hopes of corrupting her youthful mind. Just kidding, it's more along the lines of "the new people have to stick together." Spending time at work with her makes me reminisce about my younger days. (which is not something that I long for wistfully, believe me.) I wonder fairly often, if she is actually as innocent, naive and hopeful as she seems or am I just jaded, flawed and old? Psssssh- we're certainly going with the first choice on this! Poor girl, she in under the terribly misguided impression that the world can be changed if she speaks up. She is still basking in the youthful glow of hope, that her words can change a nation. Or in our case, the kitchen. Sadly, what she does not see is that by saying what is on her mind she is being labled as a "complainer and troublemaker" and her stock is going down in the eyes of the management. I have gently attempted to guide her in a different direction, one that I call "shut the f%%&&** UP!!" as sadly, one "BAD SEED" makes life a bit tricky for the rest of us. Don't get me wrong- she is right in what she is speaking up about. However, in CR's twisted system the mention that something might not be quite right is a huge offence. (which is the #1 sign of a dysfunctional company, according to my sources.)
This gal and I "hang out" at work- meaning that we fold many thousands of napkins, slice forty billion croutons and speak in hushed tones in code about our magical work experiences.
The trouble with this little arrangement is that when Bobbi sees us together she imagines that we are creating a force against her. A Dumbledore's Army, if you will. DUN, DUN, DUN, DUNNNNNNN!!!!! (that's doom music.) Bobbi thinks that instead of chatting about our houses, pets and husbands/boyfriends we are probably talking about overtaking her evil empire (which we clearly are.)
All of this insanity came to a head the other evening when abruptly, at 8:45 (on a Friday night) the Youth Of America was cut- and so was I. I was baffled, to say the least because to cut people that late on a Friday is unheard of. Fortunately, one of the other new girls (who is old like yours truly) snagged me and dragged me into the walk in cooler. "You have to hear this" she said- nervously looking around for any signs of ears on the walls "You, and the rest of the YOA are being POISONED against this place by your work friend- according to Bobbi." "WHAT" I screeched indignantly, "WTF???" "No, seriously" she continued with gravity "You have to watch your back." "Hmmm" I sniffed" with irritation "I am clearly going to have to find a remedy for this poison....."
In real life, a situation like this would make me want to really create some sort of force against crazy unstable Bobbi, and slowly take over her Empire of Hate. But, I know better. If she continues to think that we are all doing the Devil's work she will systematically cut our shifts until all of us are forced to quit. So, I dished out a bug ration of (skewed) reason to the YOA and persuaded them to keep the complaining to a minimum.
Stay tuned to see if my advice fell upon deaf ears....
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
