Fa la la la... holiday jobs suck

A trip to the mall the other day reminded me of how much the holiday spirit is in the air.  Thank goodness I don’t have to participate in it on a daily basis.

Holiday jobs are some of the most underpaid jobs out there.   A person generally gets minimum wage with little to no training to deal with long lines of people lacking Christmas spirit.  When they finally do get a fifteen minute break, it is spent dodging brightly colored bags, loud trains and individuals wandering aimlessly for useless items they can’t afford that the recipient has to fake delight about.  Fa la la la.

A whole other level of holiday jobs is dressing up as elves, reindeer or the big cheese himself.    I can’t help but chuckle when I see Santa’s village because I wander if Santa and his elves are as menacing as the ones Ralphie visited in A Christmas Story.   But a new character I saw this year was someone dressed as a lottery ball.  Now- I worry about being overweight as it is-so you would have to pay me big money to be literally as round as a ball with my arms sticking out and my face clearly exposed for everyone to see.  At least if I dress up as a reindeer no one can see my face and hear the things that I’m muttering.

Fa la la la- holiday jobs suck.

Two Simple Rules When Going Out To Dine

Servers are not magic genies.  Therefore, if you decide as I place your entrée down that you don’t want onions on it, I cannot instantly fix it.   I have been desperate enough to try and channel Barbara Eden by blinking my eyes, and trust me- it does NOT work.

Restaurants are not day care providers.  “Kid’s night” does not include a chicken finger meal and babysitting fees.   This means that you should tell your child no when they want to pull the table skirt off and pretend it’s a dress.   Also not recommended is WWF wrestling in the middle of the dining room and saying it’s fine if they have a fourth Mountain Dew.   I would also advise taking any sugar off the table because I’ve seen packets eaten like pixie sticks or dumped in their already sugary soda.

You know how establishments keep track of people who write bad checks?  They keep track of other types of people also….

Success=Who You Are

I’ve been missing for awhile and I’m sure all of my eight followers have been wondering where I’ve been.  Ironically, I haven’t been blogging because I’ve been working so much.  But I’m also trying to do you a favor by not polluting my bad attitude into the world right now.   Let’s face it- lately the economy sucks.

I’m definitely not the only person that has had unfortunate luck with the world of work.  I was talking to a friend’s husband recently (who ironically has the same degree as me) about how we feel like we are going backwards.   I mean- a lot of people are servers to get themselves through school.   I didn’t think I would be a server eight years after I graduated from college.

I think as a society we put a lot of definition on what we do for a living= what your success is.  Or maybe it’s just me.  Recently, I had two acquaintances I went to high school with come to eat where I work.  My first thought?  I’m kind of embarrassed this is where I am fifteen years after I graduated high school.  I almost felt like I had to justify what I’ve been doing all these years.  ‘Yes-  I did go to college and have a degree.  And I’m also working on getting published and I have a great husband and…’

I realized in that moment that I was letting what I do define me as a person and what my success in life is.   And it shouldn’t be.  It should be how I’m living my life and what kind of person I am that defines my success.  And if someone else doesn’t understand that- well, then they’ve never waited on people for a living….

Top Five

Here, in no particular order, are five quirky work/dating stories for your enjoyment that I have personally experienced or heard firsthand…

·         I once witnessed a lady pull a few strands of her hair out and place them in her food.  She then promptly called the manager over to complain and request a free meal.

·         I use to work as an Admissions Representative at a college and I once had a person approach me and ask if we offered a degree in Electric Shock Therapy.

·         There was a manager that I worked with that I swear didn’t know how to tell time.   I would tell him we were having a meeting at 1:45 and he would say, ‘No, we are meeting at a quarter till two.’

·         I had a job where I would critique resumes so people could find jobs.   I had to repeatedly explain that email addresses like whitetrash and sexychocolate were not appropriate unless you planned to work in a strip club!

·         I had a friend set me up on a blind date and the guy was completely obnoxious.  Within the first few minutes of meeting, he said I had “just made the cut.”   When I asked what he was referring to, he said that he has three rules:  1) Woman must live alone  2) Woman must be twenty-one  3) Woman must not like foo-foo drinks.   Hmm.. let me interpret- you want a woman legally old enough to get drunk on cheap liquor and then crash at her place.  Lucky me!

Reality Bites

As the fall lineup of new shows get closer, I realize more and more how pathetic our society is getting about trash TV.   And I’m not innocent in the matter.  Whether it’s out of boredom or utter disbelief that people will do anything to get on TV, I watch my fair share of reality crap.    But I’ve started realizing how it’s starting to affect people’s perception of work and finding love.   Because of the useless “talent” of Kim Kardashian and Snookie, our youngest generation is now wondering if their dream should be to attain a reality show rather than go to college and get a real job.   And what’s worse- they are getting rewarded for it.   Not only does Snookie get a ridiculous amount of money, she has “written” a book, “designed” shoes and “acts” on commercials.     

And take the reality “love” show The Bachelorette.  One of the most recent scandals is that a male contest, Bentley, intentionally deceived the show’s star Ashley.  To Ashley, he was sweet and tried to win her over.  But to the cameras?   He called her names and said he was out to hurt her.   While no one will ever know what his true intentions were, it’s clear that he was not out to find love.  Perhaps that his name is Bentley should have been an indication that he is vain and wants the finer things in life.

Reality- it can sure bite.

The Sue Heck Syndrome

As I continue to interview and apply for jobs, I try to stay optimistic.  But it’s hard.   And I’ve started to wonder- is there a point where you give up?  Or do you continue to just smile and keep trying?

I’ve always respected people that not only fall down, but get up even though they have scraped and bleeding knees.   This reminds me of the fictional character Sue Heck from the hit comedy “The Middle.”   Sue isn’t good at very much.  The only sport she has ever made is track because they let anyone on the team.   And as far as trophies- her one and only is for having perfect attendance.  But she keeps smiling.   Is that to be admired even though she is ignorant and doesn’t realize she stands a chance?

Am I a version of Sue Heck as I look to find the right career?   And if so, is that something to be admired?

The Gambling Waitress

 As I wrap up another exhausting week of waiting tables, I’ve realized that a lot of servers are similar to gamblers.  Waiting tables can sometimes have a great payoff.   I once had a lady on Christmas Eve leave me a thirty dollar tip on a bill that was thirty dollars!   But waitressing has risks and sometimes you not only make crappy tips, but lose money.  Let me explain.   At one restaurant I worked at, a server was required to “tip out” bartenders and hosts/hostesses a percentage of their sales.   So if you have a couple of tables that stiff you, you are still required to pay the “tip out.”   That means that you are actually losing money!   Another place I worked at, you weren’t required to give any of your tip money to other co-workers.   But here’s the risk.   If you’re too cheap to fork out five dollars at the end of the night, a busboy can make your life a living hell.  They will bus the tables first of the servers they know are going to take care of them. 

      One gamble servers often make is whether or not to take a guaranteed gratuity on large tables.  Most restaurants have a rule that a server can add an automatic gratuity on tables of eight or larger.  The consensus from many co-workers is that they would rather not take the guarantee and chance if they will make more money by going with the traditional tip.  Sometimes it pays off.  Other times you are horribly disappointed.   The worst insult a customer can do is leave change.  That is deliberate- and sending a direct message to the server-you suck!   A server can at least comfort themselves when there is no tip by telling themselves that the person just forgot.

Hmm… maybe servers need to start attending gamblers anonymous??! 

The Low Talker

As my wedding anniversary approaches, I started thinking about how much marriage encompasses the qualities of both love and work.   As much as my husband and I love each other, sometimes I think we make it our mission to annoy each other.  I have repeatedly told him that I hate the animal abuse commercial that has the Sarah McLaughlin song crooning in the background.   His response?  Get over it- the game is coming back on and I don’t want to miss the score.  My retaliation?   I’ve discovered that if the napkin holder is not pushed up exactly against the counter, he has to fix it.   So if I’m having a day where I want to aggravate him, I’ll pull it out, wait for him to fix it and then repeat.

My husband likes to be more creative.   Case in point- the margarita bucket.   I bought a margarita mix that came with recipe instructions printed on the bucket.   One day I went to put something away and the mix was in the cabinet with no bucket.   Do you know where I found it?   By the pool area holding chemicals.   Apparently, there were no other options in the house.   So if I invite you over for margaritas and you wonder why I’m going to the pool to make them, you now know.

One thing my husband has been inflicted with is low talking syndrome.  (This really shouldn’t be a surprise since he also has deaf man syndrome).    I believe he is a distance relative of the low talker on Seinfeld.   This has caused many misunderstandings over the years although to my knowledge I haven’t agreed yet to wear a puffy shirt.   It usually goes something like this.  ‘What would you like for dinner?’    Mumble Mumble.   ‘What did you say?’   Slightly louder mumble mumble.   By the third take, I’ve given up and then he claims he told me that he wanted tacos for dinner so how come we’re not having them?

Marriage- it’s both love and work.   Oh and by the way- the margarita bucket has a new home.  It’s now under the kitchen sink with sponges in it. 

Married Man Seeking Married Woman?!!

Have you ever smelled something that brings back such a vivid memory?    There is something about the air of a summer night- especially when it’s slightly humid.    It reminds me of carefree times when I would go out and drink beer at festivals and wonder if it was going to be the night I would meet my future husband.  In essence- summer reminds me of possibilities. 

So maybe that’s why this time of year I restart my hunt to find my friend the perfect guy.   Let me correct myself.  Not perfect- but perfect for her.   I have encouraged her to use dating sites, go on blind dates and try speed dating.   I definitely had my share of unusual dates.   One guy I found on Yahoo Personals suggested we meet at a local bar.  He was a good looking guy- dark with a nice physique.  He should have just kept his mouth shut though.   As he slurped the last couple of drops out of his Budweiser bottle he said, ‘Sorry hon, I would offer you a drink but all I have left is spit.’  Uh, gross.  And I guess laying down three dollars for my very own bottle was out of the question?

And then there was the guy I went on a date with who was a bank customer.   My married co-worker at the time was reliving her single life through me, so she wrote my phone number on his receipt.   He called and we had a typical courtship.  We went out to dinner, we talked on the phone and then his girlfriend left a message on my answering machine that she was going to, ‘Kick my !%$!’  

One dating site I didn’t encounter when I was single was AshleyMadison.com.   Ironically, the site was launched the year I met my husband in 2001.   The tagline of this great matchmaker?  “Life is short.  Have an affair.”   Yes- this website is targeted for married people and boasts of providing a service for discreet encounters.  They even have an Affair Guarantee Program and give tips on how to have an extramarital affair.  Aww- how sweet and helpful.

Cheating is awful- but planning to cheat, that’s a whole new level.  And there’s a company out there that encourages it?!   The site claims that they are not doing anything wrong or making things easier- people that utilize the service were going to cheat anyways.   That’s like targeting alcoholics or drug users.  Oh- they’ll eventually break, so why not capitalize off of it?

In an age where it’s getting harder to find (and obviously keep) a mate, shame on you AshleyMadison…..

Chutes and Ladders

I was channel surfing the other day and I settled on the episode of Friends where Rachel turns thirty.  Have you seen it?    To sum it up, she’s down in the dumps about the big 30.  She isn’t married, has no kids and Chandler thinks he’s being funny when he gets her a birthday card that says, “Happy Birthday Grandma.” 

I can kind of relate because my birthday is just around the corner.  But mine is the big 33.   I can’t even “accidentally” turn around the numbers like my 32^nd birthday.  I have the married part down, but have no kids as of yet and am unemployed.  Not exactly where I pictured myself at this age.

So I’ve started the great interviewing process again.  It’s sooo much fun.   One of the places I interviewed at I was told they don’t take lunches and at another one I had a guy snort when I said I missed work once because my cat died.   Obviously not an animal lover….  I’ve always had a history of interesting job stories.  I had an employer once call me only to tell me to stop sending them resumes!   Another place I interviewed at not only had three people interviewing me, but I also simultaneously interviewed with two other candidates.  I felt like a game show contestant because once a question was asked, the first one to “buzz in” got to answer.   I guess I didn’t win the show because I didn’t get the job.

Remember the games Chutes and Ladders?  I like to think of life like that game.   For those of you that are not familiar, you can land on a chute that will send you almost back to the beginning of the game, or a ladder that will send you so far up you can win the game.   I like to think my ladder is around the corner…

Is it Friday yet??!!!

In honor of David Letterman (even though I am more of a Leno fan) I have compiled my own top ten of gross, funny and unbelievable work stories.  Some of these I have personally experienced, while others I have heard second hand.   It’s a scary world out there…..

Ø  I had a co-worker who would eat the grossest things for lunch.   One time he opened a can of peas and ate them cold, took out an onion and started eating it like an apple and then poured the pea juice in a separate cup and drank it.   Needless to say, he smelled like death…

Ø  I had a co-worker who told everyone in her department that they were not allowed to get flowers due to her allergies.   When she had flowers delivered to her and someone questioned her on it, she said it was okay for her to get them because she knows all of her allergies…

Ø  I use to have a co-worker talk about a certain leaky body part while we were eating lunch.  Bon appétit!

Ø  I decided to take a hostess job at a well-known restaurant that sells chicken wings.  During one point of our training, we had to “bawk” like chickens.  I thought, is this what my life has come to?

Ø  While working a temporary job, I had an employee come up and tell me she thought she was allergic to my perfume and asked if I would not wear it.  Although I was a little irritated, I understood her predicament.  After lunch she came up to me and said she was also going to need me to change my hairspray, deodorant and possibly my shampoo and conditioner.   Didn’t she realize I was doing temporary work?

Ø  I had a customer come in and tell me she wanted to show me her baby pictures.  I had no idea she was going to show me a picture of her sprawled out naked while she was giving birth!!  I never looked at her the same…

Ø  While working for a well-known lingerie store, I had a guy come in to buy some bras for his wife.  After giving him some suggestions, he looked around and came back to me with two: a 34A and a 34D.  When I told him there was no possible way those would both fit the same person he said, ‘At least I got her something this year.’  I would have liked to see the look on her face!

Ø  I worked at a lingerie store and around Valentine’s Day it was crazy busy- mostly with clueless looking guys.  One time when I came in for my shift, a guy was trying to undress the mannequin and was having a panic attack because it was the only size left in the store.

Ø  We use to have two customers who we knew frequently car pooled together.  When one of them decided she didn’t have money to give her for gas, the other responded she was going to set her house on fire.

Ø  When I worked at a casino, we use to have a lot of fights over the slot machines.   I once witnessed a lady pee her pants because she wasn’t going to “give up” her slot to a lurker that had been scoping it out.

Chasing Unicorns and Rainbows

A couple of days ago I sat in a stuffy gym to watch the elementary graduation of my niece and nephew.   Before the graduating class took their seats, they placed a colorful poster board on an easel.    The signs were a celebration of diversity- Doctor, Dentist, Singer/Actress, Green Bay Packers Cheerleader, Spy, Nascar Driver- in essence- a statement of their hopes and dreams.    A young boy then got up and talked about his elementary experience and how he hoped even as adults we have dreams.  But do we?

I find it funny that up until the day you graduate high school- and college if you go- that’s all teachers talk about.  That you are going to school so you can pursue your dreams, you can be anything you want, blah blah, blah.  And then you graduate and you are slapped in the face hard with reality.    All of a sudden you end up taking a job so you can pay the rent, your car payment and groceries.   How many people really chase their dreams?

I find myself contemplating these questions because I feel like I’m at a crossroads in my life.    I recently quit my job and my husband and I decided to put our house on the market.  Why?  Because we would like to live near a beach and see what other opportunities are out there.  Possibly chasing unicorns?  Maybe.  But why is that a bad thing? 

Most people I’ve told what I’m doing are appalled.   I think it’s because somewhere between graduating high school and officially becoming an adult, there is an underlying message that there are no more rainbows.  You go to work- whether you like it or not- and that’s it until Social Security (hopefully) starts rolling in and you can get the Senior Discount at Arby’s.  Ugh- depressing.

Now don’t get me wrong- you obviously have to be somewhat responsible and pay bills or you would be living in a cardboard box.  But, as the lavender candle states that I have sitting in my living room, “The Greatest Risk in Life is Never Taking One”…….

The Blue Slushie Guy

So I’m at the movies the other day trying to decide if I can stomach the price to get a Coke with my butter drenched popcorn, when I see the machine for the blue slushies.   I can’t help but snicker- I’ll never look at a blue slushie the same again.

My friend had a date with a guy that took her to dinner and then to the movies.  After subtly suggesting that they get the special for dinner, he tried his best to steer her away from the snack stand when they arrived.  Now I do feel for this guy- in this day and age you practically have to get a small loan to go to the movies.  I always wondered if those little banks they have in grocery stores would do well set up next to the popcorn stand.  But it’s not like you don’t know what you’re in for when you go.  And not getting an overpriced snack is like having French fries with no ketchup.  

After they had paid for the tickets and decided on sharing one of the large tubs of popcorn, my friend spots the slushie machine.  ‘Oh, I love blue slushies,’ she exclaims.   Obviously a statement like that is a polite way to ask if you can have one.  Well, the guy either didn’t hear or rather played the selected deaf man act my husband has so perfected over the years, so she said something again.  This time he sighed and said, ‘You just had to see the slushies, didn’t you?   I was trying to make it out of the movies with some money in my bank account.’   Ouch.   I know times are rough but when a blue slushie sets my account into the negative, I know I’m in trouble.

Even though it’s been almost a decade since I’ve dated, I had plenty of my own blue slushie guys.  I had the guy that took me to Village Inn who decided to take charge and order for both of us.  Now if we had been at a romantic candlelit restaurant and he had ordered in French, I would have probably been turned on.  But instead he took charge and told the server we were splitting- yes splitting- the BLT Sandwich with fries, he had a coupon and we would both have waters.  Really?  I can’t even have my own Coke?   Needless to say I never saw the VI guy again.

Another friend of mine met a guy that we dubbed, “The Singing McDonald’s Guy.”    This guy actually had the nerve to ask to be picked up (found out later he didn’t have a car) and then swing by a McDonald’s.    When they got to the window, he wondered if he could “borrow” a few dollars because he was low on cash.   And the singing?  Well, supposedly he was the next American Idol so he sang instead of talked.

What is your blue slushie guy story?

Hazardous Dirty Zone Just Ahead

So I’m sitting in traffic the other day and have nothing to do other than stare at the construction workers milling about.    As I watch their bored faces dripping with sweat and dirt, I realize how much in common a bank teller has with them.

Believe it or not, being a bank teller is hazardous.   I think a flashing sign needs to be installed in banks that if you verbally or physically attack a teller, there will be a fine or jail time.   I was happy to find out when I worked in the drive-thru that we had bullet proof glass.  One lady became so enraged at me when I told her what her account balance was, she pounded the glass and then kicked the electronic drawer to the point that when I tried to push the button to bring it back in, it made a noise similar to a dying cat.   I’ve had the “normal” things thrown at me- torn up checks that can’t be cashed, wadded up pieces of paper, toothpicks and verbal obscenities.   My favorite is my head just narrowly being missed by a lemon sucker by a little brat that was appalled a teller would give him the most unpopular flavor.

I know being a bank teller usually brings up images of air conditioned luxury in clean suits.  And that may be true to an extent.  But I’ve seen Benjamins with some disturbing things on them- vomit, blood and poo- just to mention a few.  And that’s the things I could identify.    Equally as disturbing is where some of these bills and checks have been stored.  I once had a rather large lady pull a check out of her 38DDD bra.  It was coated with a layer of ninety-five degree sweat and dirty BO that made me upchuck in my mouth a little.   Needless to say, I can pinpoint where my addiction to hand sanitizer started…. 

The "Buzz" on Servers

 The recent news story of a well-known restaurant serving a small child alcohol made me cringe.  Not just because of the act itself, but because I’ve been there and know what this server must have been going through.   Being a server- a good server rather- is a work of art.   Anyone that has waited on customers for a living would understand that the base pay a server makes is equivalent to buying a bag of Purina Cat Chow.

The customers that a server encounters can be downright strange.   I once had a couple come in with their two children and demand that I sing to their father for his birthday.   Not only was the restaurant I working at a non-singing type of establishment, I have about as good of singing voice as the rejects that appear on the American Idol auditions.   This didn’t seem to faze them so I finally found a pitiful candle that looked like it had been gnawed off, and placed it in a dish of rice pudding.   Three minutes and two bribes to my co-workers later, we assembled around the table and sang in a sad off-key range.   This seemed to suffice though, because I was rewarded for my efforts with a two dollar bill, a gold coin and a business card for Avon products.  Yeah- I’ll make sure and add Avon business card to my deposit slip at the bank.

Servers can also be marriage intervention counselors.    Once, on a busy Friday night, I had a gentleman flag me down urgently.   As I anticipated whether I was going to get yelled at for a steak being undercooked or an order being wrong, he asked if I could take a drink of his Crystal Light Raspberry Ice.   You see, he and wife were in an argument of whether not that drink had a good flavor and naturally the server should be the tie-breaker.   I’m not sure what disturbed me more- that I didn’t know we were serving that drink or what I was being asked to do.   Needless to say, sometimes you have to bite the bullet and do what the customer wants.  Remember-the customer is always right.

And sometimes- customers can be just downright mean.   One afternoon as I was sweeping underneath one of my recently departed tables, I saw an older lady sitting by herself eating lunch.   As I was having a deep moment about life and human nature, a fellow server asked if I could stop cleaning for awhile.  When I asked her why, she informed me that sometimes people are just mean.   Apparently, the silver haired grandma told my co-worker that ‘she just can’t eat while watching a cleaning person.'

So, while in no way am I excusing this incident, the next time you are giving your server a hard time because they haven’t refilled your third Blue Moon draft with an orange slice, think a little about what they are going through!

Love and Work Intro..

About five years ago I started writing after a traumatic experience I had at work.     I won’t bore you with the details, but due to a misunderstanding I had to “break-up” with my job.  Break-ups are painful and I mourned the loss while yearning for the good times.    I hadn’t dated in about four years at the time, but I realized the feeling was strangely familiar.    It was then that I realized how much love and work are intertwined.

Whether you’re preparing for an interview or a date, you try to find the right outfit that will impress that person.   You think of possible topics to talk about.   Will that person like me?   And then there’s the post date or interview.   Will they call right away?    And just like hearing the dreaded works of ‘Let’s just be friends’, you receive the “Dear John” letter that states, ‘While we were impressed with your qualifications, we found a candidate that better fits our needs.’   I don’t know how many times I have received a letter or phone call like that when I didn’t even want the job or like the person.   But it still hurts to not be wanted.

I had long decided that I was not going to settle for just anyone to be married to.   I figured I would rather be alone than be with someone I sort of had feelings for.   Shortly before I met my husband, I almost settled.   Not that there was anything wrong with the guy.   He was gorgeous in fact, had a good job and was funny.   But I didn’t have that spark with him.   People thought I was being too picky- that I was seeking something unattainable.   But I knew deep down I wasn’t.   I felt something inside I couldn’t explain.   So I went with my gut.

And it paid off.   I met my soon-to-be husband shortly thereafter and knew he was for me.   Perfect?  No.  Perfect for me?  Yes.

I endured seven years of grueling dates before I met him (more on that later) so it was not something easily attained.   Work on the other hand was a different story.   I decided to adopt a similar attitude as I did with finding my spouse after I calculated one day I will probably work 100,000 hours by the time I retire.  So my quest became that I would find the “perfect” job.   Not perfect- but perfect for me.

It is a journey that has still continued today.   Again my friends and family think I am crazy and trying to work for something that doesn’t exist.   But I know, like my husband, there is a career just for me out there.

And what a ride it has been.   Let me tell you about it…..