Friday fish blogging

Money, so they say

My first day of work was June 9th. It has been three weeks, and I still haven't been paid. At all. Not one goddamn cent.

That's because my fascist company makes new employees wait two weeks for their first check, and then I had to wait another week for the next pay period to end.

Needless to say, my finances are a wreck. I currently have $51.86 in my bank account. I owe $250 for rent, and $50 for medicine. Not to mention daily expenses like food.

The worst part is, I had to spend money just to get this job. In order to conform to the dress code, I have spent:

$26 on black pants

$22 on black shoes

$62 on comfortable, supportive black shoes because the first pair was killing my feet

$18 on laundry. (I have to wash my work clothes every day that I work, because they inevitably get food and/or garbage spilled all over them.)

For a total of $128.

Call me a radical, but I feel that if new employees are required to buy their own uniform, they should be paid after the first two weeks of work.

Tomorrow is my first paycheck. Too bad it's already spent.

I save an innocent life from a wedding reception

Over the weekend, I waitressed a large wedding reception. I endured hours of bad wedding music, chocolate cake stains, and endless running between tables. But overall, the reception was relatively uneventful. (Okay, I did drop about five beer bottles -- the glass shattered, and beer splashed my clothes and my face. Later, I overheard a guest tell her small child not to distract me, because I might drop something else.)

For decoration, the couple had arranged for a small fish bowl to be placed in the center of the tables, each containing a live betta fish. They invited their guests to take the fish home, but at the end of the evening, about seven fish had been abandoned. Out of 300 guests, nobody wanted to take care of them. They were stuck in tiny bowls with no space to swim, and no food.

By this point, I really identified with the fish: We were both trapped at this wedding, both contributing to the glitz of the affair at the expense of our health and sanity. I rounded up the remaining fish and took them to the kitchen. I offered them to the other servers, and every fish found a home. I named my fish Mablean, after the judge on Divorce Court. The next day, I bought her a bigger bowl, fish food, and water conditioner. Hopefully, she will survive the trauma of being a wedding decoration.

Here is a picture of my new pet:
Isn't she precious? So far, this is the best "perk" of my job.

Introduction

Today, I set my alarm for 4:00 a.m. and arrived at work at 5:00 a.m. I prepared and served breakfast for about 200 high school students, and then I served lunch to a small group of school superintendents. I broke two dishes and dropped an entire crate of dirty silverware on the pavement outside. I had to crawl under a truck in the pouring rain to retrieve the silverware. I finally got off work at 4:00 p.m. after eleven hours on my feet. This was a typical day.

I suppose I should begin this blog by explaining why I have this job in the first place. I'm currently between college and graduate school, and I had to find a summer job that paid above minimum wage. I also had to find an employer who would hire me for only two months -- not easy in a college town full of student workers and minimum wage jobs. My job pays $9.25 per hour, the hours are flexible, and I can request time off for my obligations out of town. And for the most part, I like my coworkers.

The downside: I'm exhausted, sore, and miserable all the time. I regularly work between 8 and 11 hours with only a 20 minute break. I steal five minutes when I can, but I'm essentially setting up, serving, busing, and scrubbing for the entire day. I come home dripping with sweat and filthy with food. I've had wet garbage spilled on me twice. And my feet ache like you wouldn't believe. By the end of my shift, I can barely stand -- and that sounds histrionic unless you've been there, but it's true.

So, I have started this temporary blog to complain about my job. It's basically going to be a lot of bitching, moaning, and ranting. Sure, complaining doesn't solve anything... but it makes me feel better. Feel free to listen, comment, and commiserate.