Work is Struggle

the blog of a catering waitress

Tuesday, July 25, 2006

well that was awkward

So, when I quit my job, I was somewhat dishonest. Despite everything, I felt guilty for leaving -- so I told them I had to leave because I was moving to another town. This was sort of true. I just lied about when I was leaving.

Then today, I walked into the library, and ran into the catering staff. They were setting up food and snacks for freshman "library orientation." Ooops.

Ah, well. I don't care what they think of me. And, I probably made my coworkers' day more interesting by providing some "bitch did not" gossip.

Friday, July 21, 2006

Screw you guys -- I'm going home.

I quit!!!

The short story is I couldn't take it anymore. I'll write more later -- I'm spending the weekend in another city (without a computer), but I will be back on Sunday. And I will be unemployed. Blissful, beautiful unemployment.

In the meantime, here is your Friday fish blogging:
Oh little muffin...

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

The importance of 30 goddamn minutes

When I first started working as a catering waitress, I was convinced that my employer was violating labor laws. At my past two jobs, it was company policy to give employees short breaks and a lunch break: 30 minutes if you worked at least seven hours, 1 hour if you worked eight hours or more.

At my current job, we don't get breaks. Sometimes we find ourselves with down time, depending on the pace of the event -- but on several occasions, I have worked 10+ hours without a moment to myself. The managers police us from start to finish, and anyone caught standing still is immediately assigned a new task. The result is that I am literally on my feet for ten hours at a time.

Surely, I thought, this was against the law. I fantasized about legal action -- suing for vast sums of money and saving future workers from misery. Only it turns out, 10 straight hours of work is perfectly legal in my state. These states require breaks -- even Puerto Rico requires an hour for lunch, with double overtime for anyone who works during that hour -- but my state is not on the list. The state labor website confirms that I am not entitled to any sort of break, no matter how long I work.

To be fair, my company does give us food. We are allowed to eat whatever we are serving, but this is not a break. I've literally been told that I may eat for "five minutes," then I'm expected to get back to work so that the next person may take her five minutes. (Usually I don't like the food, but that's another story.)

Real breaks involve 30-60 minutes where you can do whatever you want. You can step outside. You can rest your feet. You can buy good food at a legitimate restaurant. And most importantly, a break is when managers aren't bitching at you to work harder.

It's ridiculous that we don't have this law in all 50 states. Workers in my state get just as tired and hungry as workers in the other states. (Motherfucking "right to work.")

In the meantime, I've found that the best defense is to steal time by hiding in the restroom. It's not exactly dignified, but neither is my job.

Monday, July 17, 2006

Back in town

So... tired...
Really really really don't want to go back to work.

I should just quit. Why not?

What is the absolute worst thing that could happen if I quit my job?

And, would that thing be worse than ten hours of serving and smiling and scrubbing? Would it really?

Friday, July 14, 2006

Friday fish blogging

Thursday, July 13, 2006

Small victory

My insurance company has agreed to file my claim (correctly) as a hit and run. So I still have to pay $200 (gahh), but it could have been much worse. And I'm reaching emotional acceptance, even though it still really pisses me off that someone fled the scene to avoid responsibility. Seriously, if you hit a parked car, leave your goddamn name and address. You'll have to pay, but at least you won't wake up covered in bloody wounds from my hit and run voodoo doll.

But, I'm looking on the bright side. Until this week, I had never been in a car accident. I should be happy that in my first accident, nobody got hurt. And more importantly, it's an accident that I can blame completely on somebody else. Who is the victim here? Me. Who fucked up? Who sucks at parallel parking? Who is a selfish asshole? That's right, NOT me.

In other news, you would not believe the internet situation here. One wireless company has a monopoly over the entire region (a touristy vacation spot), and they charge $15 per day. Public coffee shops and restaurants advertise, "Internet Access!" -- then when you get there, they invite you to pay $15 per day.

The worst part is, the locals don't seem to realize that it doesn't have to be like this. I politely asked where I could find the free wireless, and they looked at me like I had asked where I could find the free Ferraris. "Free internet? Uh, it's not free anywhere."

But it is!! Where I'm from, in the civilized world, you can't walk ten feet without hitting a free wireless network. Starbucks, Panera, public libraries, the university, private networks without passwords... But here, the economy is based entirely on tourism: They know we have jobs and e-mail and blogs in the real world. They know we need the internet to live. So they vaguely promise access, then when we are trapped here, they spring the $15 fee.

I'm not paying, of course. I signed up for a dial-up service that I plan to cancel when I get back home. But still...

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

Mother. Fucking. Cockwhore.

This has nothing to do with work, but I need to vent.

As most of you know, I recently got a new car -- a beautiful, shiny, blue car -- that was perfect in every way. Until some MOTHERFUCKING GODDAMN COCKWHORE decided to parallel park INTO MY CAR, leaving a massive gouge on the front panel... and DRIVE AWAY without leaving a note.

The worst part is, because I moved the car after it happened, the insurance company doesn't believe it was a hit and run. They want to call it a "collision" as though it was completely my fault, meaning a high deductible and a higher rate in the future.

And, this happened on the first day of my family vacation, on the day that I left town. So, I had to drive to meet my parents with ugly damage on the new car they just bought for me... it was a lovely start to the vacation.

And it looks horrible -- the whole corner is crumpled and scratched with white paint. I cannot begin to express how fucking unacceptable this is. GAHHHHH. I'm too upset to type anymore..

Saturday, July 08, 2006

My first boss

Was talking with H. about my first boss, Kara, the coolest boss I've ever had. Sometimes, I think my unrealistic expectations for workplace behavior stem from the experience of working for Kara.

Kara hired me on sight, based on her instincts. I walked in to inquire about the help wanted sign, and she said, "Can you start tomorrow?" While she may have incorrectly assessed my work ethic, she was right that we would get along great. We both hated big corporations -- including the one we worked for -- and we both loved to break rules.

Kara used to turn off the required store music and blast The Grateful Dead on the store speakers. She also introduced us to 70s funk music. We did enough work to run the store -- unpacking merchandise, helping customers, and working the registers -- but we allowed the shelves to remain messy ("Customers will just fuck it up again"). We hated the regional manages, and we happily ignored company policy.

For example, we loved to violate the dress code: "I told them to change," Kara would sigh dramatically, "but they told me to go fuck myself!" (Of course, we had appropriate clothes on hand in case the regional manager made a surprise visit.)

When Kara gave her two weeks notice, we all took a two week paid vacation. We sat around doing absolutely nothing, just talking about life. Kara told us about her family, her ex-boyfriends, her road trips. We were women of all ages, but we talked about everything like friends. Drugs, sex, whatever.

On Kara's last day, we were all crying. We gave her gifts, and bought a cake. I made her a card with a picture of the store burning down (I photoshopped flames and everything).

After Kara quit, working retail quickly began to suck ass. The new manager was strict, bossy, and no fun at all. Eventually I was fired, but that's another story.

I think Kara represents the type of person I would be if, god forbid, I were ever given authority in a work environment. I would want everything to be perfectly egalitarian, everyone relating as friends. I would ignore the rules, and I would encourage subversive behavior just for the hell of it. And, this is why nobody will ever put me in charge of a business..

Friday, July 07, 2006

Friday fish blogging

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

Hours

I've been scheduled to work on a day that I'm going to be out of town next week. It is technically my fault for not dropping off my availibility form last week, but the office was closed all last week (I tried three times).

So if they refuse to change my schedule, I think I'm just going to quit (or be fired). This might be a short catering blog.

UPDATE: I'm still employed. They found someone to cover my hours, so I'm not in trouble. I'm not sure why I expected to be fired over something so minor. But, based on frequent scolding from exasperated managers, I sort of got the impression that anything could be the last straw.

Sunday, July 02, 2006

sak;djsak;ldjsakl;

My father just e-mailed me. He opened my bank statements, and he noticed that I don't have any money. One month out of college, and I'm already failing at life.

When I'm at work, I often fantasize about a just world in which people with the worst jobs earn the most income. I call it the Post-Revolution Income/Shittyness Function:
If corporate CEO's want money so bad, they can spend eleven hours serving food and scrubbing dishes without a break. And lazy workers can sign up for low-paying jobs where they sit in spacious offices and talk on their cell phones. It makes sense if you think about it.

Saturday, July 01, 2006

The college town economy

Barbara Ehrenreich has some interesting thoughts in this exchange about Wal-Mart. Since I received my first paycheck, I've been thinking about this:
So, I would have to advise H. Lee that the Wal-Mart plan may not be sustainable: If you underpay people enough, in the absence of adequate and reliable government subsidies to compensate for their meager wages, they're not going to be able to buy your stuff.
Specifically, I've been thinking about how the economics of my town are endlessly sustainable because of a certain large university.

I almost cried when I got my first paycheck. After taxes, it wasn't even enough to cover the money I spent on my uniform. "But what about all those hours I've been working?" That paycheck comes two weeks later, July 14th. So I resigned myself to another two weeks on a $50 budget: I can spend $25 per week on groceries, and that's it.

Okay, you shouldn't feel sorry for me. I'm just scraping through one lousy summer. But countless workers earn these poverty wages for decades. We have an entire population of workers who carefully budget for rent and groceries their entire lives. They don't contribute to the local economy. But the local economy doesn't affect my company because of the university.

This is how it works:

1. Tuition dollars and alumni donations support the university.
2. The university pays contractors to run the place.
3. The contractors hire local workers for poverty wages.

And, nobody cares that the entire community is poor. Because it's a one-way equation:
Tuition & Donations --> University --> Contractors
Local businesses would make more money if the university paid a living wage, but I can see why the university doesn't care about local poverty. All of the money comes from out of town.