All right chirrun......03:18 Aug 03 2011
Times Read: 898
Time ro pull up yo little chairs and have a seat around the ol campfire. Auntie Luanne is about to catch all ya'll up on the comings, goings, ins and outs of life as she knows it in the big city of Coquitlam, especially as it applies to that little square of heaven she works at.
These people are unbelievable. I bust my ass for them for three years, devote all my time to making sure they have what they need from me, I don't get a second job so I can always be available to them at a moment's notice, we even bought our first house so that we could be closer to my work and have less hills to drive in the winter when it snows.
I have never once lied to these people about anything. I have been up front and honest since day one, and that includes the day of my original interview when I clued them in about the stepmonster and my ensuing legal crap. If I fucked up, I either owned up to it, apologized for it, or made amends in some other way.
But never, not EVER have I ever been delberately rude to anybody. And believe me, there have been many who have deserved a full dose of my rebelassity more often than not.
However. I am a professional. Personal opinions notwithstanding, I have always been calm and collected until such time as I could get away from the problem and vent sufficiently. Either here on my journal, on the phone with some of you, or with Scott and/or his family.
So I showed up at work Saturday an hour early, as commanded, and then had to "hold on for just a second while I finish typing this" (Tristan). Kat just looked at me like she thought I was going to gut them all....
Then it's up the stairs to the studio room, since the wedding I was working was in Gallery. And this was what I got:
"Were there any problems at the wedding last weekend when you were in here(studio) to bartend?"
Just the one guy who bought a double Bombay gin and tonic and then tried to give it to a 16 year old. I asked him very nicely to take it away, since the kid was obviously not old enough to be drinking. And either he could take it away, or I would have to, and then I would have to pour it out. The guy took the drink back, and even came in later and apologized for doing it. Other than that, everything was as normal as it could be under the circumstances.
"And what circumstances were that?"
I wasn't in the main room where we normally are, and we had tickets involved that were only good for domestic beer and single highballs off the gun.
"Well, we have an email from the groom saying you were rude to his mother."
Didn't happen. Sorry. His mistake.
"Are you sure? He says you were short and rude to her."
Nope. Didn't happen. I don't know what to tell you.
"Did you have ANY interaction with his mother?"
I did. She would come running over to the bar every times she saw one of her friends approaching, and whatever they ordered, she would start throwing tickets at me and telling me here, here, here, take these take these. I would hand her back the tickets, and explain that what they had ordered was not covered by the tickets, and she would start throwing more tickets at me, saying here here here take these, take double for that drink. I explained to her very politely on several occasions that the tickets were not good for the items being ordered, but she did the same thing over and over again. Eventually the people would pay for their drinks, just so they could get them, and head back to the main room. She would huff off, and then it would start all over again the next time someone else came to the bar.
"Why didn't you tell the supervisor about this?"
Because the supervisor was busy dealing with other things, and by the time she got in to check on me I had forgotten about it. I explained the procedure to the lady, she just didn't like taking no for an answer.
"Well, we have talked about this before. You can't be rude...."
Excuse me. I was not rude to that lady. I explained the procedure to her everytime she did this as calmly as possible.
"Well, we have this email from her son..."
I'm sure you do. But that doesn't make it true. I have never lied to you in 3 years, and I see no reason to start now. If I had made a mistake, I have in the past and would again own up to it. But in this particular situation, I made no mistake.
"Well, you realize we will be putting a paper in your permenant file that you must sign. All it says is that we discussed this with you. You're not being written up for doing something wrong, it's just the new policy around here."
Really? And when did this go into effect? And when did the constant stream of "Luanne can you please handle this for us" suddenly become I have to tell the supervisor every little thing that goes on? Because in that case, you might as well park one at each bar, and one for the servers, and one for the kitchen, because that is the only way we'll be able to do that.
"Well, (and yes, he kept saying that, people, I'm not making it up) we need to be able to do damage control so that it doesn't get to this point."
The only thing different would be that instead of me telling her no, one of the supervisors would have been doing it, and I doubt it would have made any difference. But if that is what you want, I'll be happy to do so.
*Of course I'm thinking at this point that my life just got a whole lot harder if I have to report every fart and giggle as it happens in the middle of an event, and it was going ot slow down things incredibly, but if that is what they want.....*
"There's also the matter of you threatening to punch a fellow emplyee in the face" (oh yeah, here we go...)
No, I believe what I said was that if said employee, mainly Justin, got in my face and tried to pick a fight, I was going to take care of it myself. And I believe that the weekend after said event, and after Chef's useless email, I told you when I came to work the following weekend the same thing, because I had not gotten the help I needed from the management team that was supposed to take care of things like this. And you didn't even know about it because nobody bothered to ask me anything about what happened. So I know you know what happened, because I told you about it.
Then I look at Kat, and her eyes are as big as saucers.
"What do you mean he tried to pick a fight with you? I didn't hear anything about this."
o-o
Really
I looked at Tristan with that patented "what have you got to say now" look on my face. While I am explaining this to Kat, he has slid into the man mode of just tuning me out and saying un hunh un hunh at all the right points....
"Well, I figured Chef's solution would take care of that."
Really? You thought that posting a couple of signs about who sits where and sticking a bookcase in the middle of the bar area was the solution.
Kat looks at me, then at him, then back to me and says:
"I had no idea that was what happened. After I got the email you originally sent (yes, I sent copies to Chef, Tristan, Kristy (Justin's sister) and Kat) I started to come talk to you but we never seemed to run into each other, and I started to call, but then I figured one of them had talked to you already, so I let it go."
Well, it seems to me that everybody I trusted all along the line to help me with this just seriously dropped the ball, what do you think? And for future reference, if it ever happens again, which I doubt, perhaps you should give in to that gut feeling and call me. I am here for the same reason all of you are. TO. EARN. A. LIVING. And it has nothing to do with being greedy, as Kristy keeps insisting. But I can't do my job if everytime I turn around, Justin is jumping in front of me and taking my customers. And I'm not GOING to put up with it anymore. If I need help I will ask for it, but I will not put up with him taking my customers anymore. PERIOD.
Tristan "un hunh un hunh un hunh"
I looked at Kat. "Do you understand what I am saying?"
Oh yes, I certainly do.
Then I looked at Tristan....."Do YOU understand?"
What?
There it is in a nutshell folks.
All of that took an hour. I finally got dressed and got busy setting up for my wedding, which was hosted, and which netted me a substantial amount of tip money, even though it was hosted, because, and I quote:
"You are the BEST bartender EVER!!!"
Before things got really hectic, Kat came down with the paper for me to sign. I just looked at her, and then said:
Just so you know, I resent having to sign this. You people are supposed to have my back when I am maligned for doing my job in the manner which you have given me to do it. And for me to have to cop to this just to cover Tristan's ass is absurd. I was never rude to that woman, I just told her no, she couldn't do what she was trying to do.
"Technically it isn't a reprimand, it just says we had a discussion about the subject."
Yes, but the "subject" is incorrect. And I resent being hung out to dry because it was more convenient for you guys.
Then things got hairy. Cause I got teary eyed thinking about how for three years I had devoted my life to this place, and had trained Tristan AND Kat, and this was what I had to show for it. And I said so.
Which promptly made Kat burst into tears. Along with the please oh please don't leave, you're the only bartender I can depend on to really do the job that needs to be done, that she needs me, yadda yadda yadda.
So I told her, straight up. Since the beginning of the year, I have felt like I was treated like some homeless person who just walked in off the street and got handed a job. That I was getting very little support from either the other bartenders in terms of them doing their jobs, or from management in terms of having the support and things I needed to do my job. And that I had repeatedly told everyone the deal from day one. I will make you my number one priority, and always be there to help in any way I can, and IN RETURN, you work me often and FIRST. But that here lately it was we don't want you doing this anymore because of the new owners, and we have to do this because of the new owners, and give back the keys that you earned the right to have because we don't trust anybody anymore, and we're putting in new locks. THAT little tidbit took place over 3 months ago, and the new locks have YET to be put in. So I went to Tristan and asked for my keys back until the new locsk did actually go in, if ever.
He was generous enough to comply with my request.
So. I got my ass handed to me for something I didn't do.
But in making Kat cry, I did find out some rather useful info:
I found out that Kristy is mouthing off about not coming back next year. And as I told Kat, wouldn't hurt my feelings in the least. Kristy has made my life a living hell since she came back to work, and all my work for the past three years seems to amount to nothing because of her.
I also found out that one of the supervisors, and I have a pretty good idea which one, was the sole person who suggested that I get suspended without pay for two weeks over this at their last supervisor's meeting. And let me tell you something, the days of her whining to me about her boy toys, her parents, her dissatisfaction with her job, her life, her food, her weight, her everything has just come to a
SCREECHING. HALT.
Diane kept her eye on me all night, making sure I was ok, offering to bring me food, whatever. Friends like her, Robbie (one of the other chefs), and plenty of the other kids at work are one of the biggest reasons why I didn't just hand them my shit and leave right then. That, and the fact that I have a house to help pay for.
But I flat out told Kat that was it. They get one. One time to do this to me, to use me to cover their asses.
NO. MORE.
She's still crying, telling me she will fix the schedule from now on in my favor, since she is the one who does that, and if it hadn't been for me coming in on my day off that last time, she didn't know what she would have done, that she counts on me for this and she can't afford to lose me.
Then FUCKING do something. Make me want to stay. Hugs hugs hugs, tears tears tears, all's right with the world....
Later that night, we had an elderly gentleman who was a little unsteady. Kristie Pryor and Patrick came over and asked me about it. He had only got a couple of drinks form me, but the dinner wine for the function was left on the table (bottles were plunked) so apparently he had been not only killing the wine at his own table, but had been visiting other tables as well...
So between the three of us, we decided it was better if we just cut him off, and off we go.
He comes up to the bar, and wants another scotch rocks. I told him gently no, that I couldn't serve him anymore. Turns out we later found out that he had dementia, which accounted for some of his bizarre behavior, but not for his staggering around and slurring his words. So he toddles off, and a few minutes later, his buddy, also in his 80's, pops up at the bar.
"I need two scotch rocks please"
I looked at him for a second, and said "Sweety, I have no problem serving you, but you cannot give one to your friend. The supervisors have cut him off, and if you give him a drink, we will have to take it away from him. We good?"
Oh yea, they're both for me.
Sure as shit, I flagged Kristie and Patrick, they followed him up the stairs to the front door, and he hands one of the drinks to the other old guy. Kristie tried to explain why he couldn't have the drink, and then reached for the glass. The old guy proceeds to wrestle with Kristie (which I'm sure he enjoyed) to get the glass back, then dumps the contents on the carpet. Kristie took the glass, gave it to me, and we decided that old guy #2 was cut off too. And of course, eventually he comes and asks, I told him no, and why, and he disappears, and sends one of the other guests to get it, and I told him the same thing. Problem solved. The first old guy came down later, chucked me under the chin, told me I was a beautiful girl, and then tried to take the beer of the lady (his sister) standing next to him. I got ahold of the glass, and he started this wrestling shit again, and I looked at him and said "Ok. If you make me spill this, first Ima make you buy her another one, and then Ima make you clean it up. Cool?"
He just smiled, turned loose of the glass, and toddled off.....
I worked damn hard. By the time I got home I was exhausted, both mentally and physically. But I still have a job.
Then I worked another wedding on Sunday.
This day damn near put me in my grave.
First off, it was one of those weddings where there are going to be several inventory sheets, alot of headaches, and crap galore.
The wedding reception started at 5:30.
From 5:30 to 6:45, it was a totally cash bar.
From 7:00 to 8:45, everything was cash but wine (one type of red, one type of white, nothing else offered) and domestic beer were hosted.
From 8:45 to 12:00 midnight, wine, domestic beer and single gun highballs were hosted, everything else for cash. NO doubles at all, not even for cash. Pop and juice were hosted all night.
So I get this big guy and his homies at the bar...
"Um, I need a crown and water"
"Oh yeah, and a crown water with a splash of coke."
"Can I also get a crown and coke?"
" I need a glass of white wine"
"I need another glass of white wine"
"I need another glass of white wine"
"Oh can I get a rum and coke too please?"
On this last one, I didn't move. He looks at me, and says "what?"
Is that everything?
Yeah yeah....*giggling* you must really hate me, doncha...lol
"Sugar of course I don't hate you. When I HATE you, you'll know..."
*pregnant pause*
AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!
You are so CUTE!!!!!!!
*smacks the guy next to him*
Isn't she just adorable? You'll know when I hate you AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
(bear in mind, Kristie Pryor, my supervisor, is standing right there, and laughing along.)
The guy was very generous with his credit card, and suddenly my night didn't seem so bad.
Don't get me wrong. I ran my chubby little ass off in spades all night long. They just never stopped drinking, and despite the fact that almost all of them were drinking the free stuff, I still came home with a wad of bills. Oh, but I"m such a big scary monster of a woman, I'm rude and nasty to people, etc etc etc.
Yeah, right....
Then I had this one guy. He walks up, and asks about scotch. I told him the Johnny Walker Red on the gun was hosted, and I had Glenlivet 12 for premium, but that was cash only. He snorted and walked off.
Now I have been a bartender for almost 30 years. As most of you took note of, I turned 49 last Tuesday. I know how to monitor my peripheral vision for movement....
I realized after a second or two that this guy is back, he is standing at the open end of my bar to the right, and he has company.
Bearing in mind, I have a dozen people in line in front of me, so I just ackowledged the fact that he was there, and kept on going, after telling him I would be right with him.
Then I realize that his "company" is starting to move further behind the bar, and closer to me. So I look up.
There stands Justin. That's right, the same Justin who got in my face and tried to start a fight with me when I worked downstairs.
He's holding a bottle of Glenfiddich (another brand of scotch) and he's talking. I told him to hold on, I would be right with him, and I went back to taking care of my customers.
And he kept on talking. And he is moving in closer and closer, to make sure I am listening.
I turned around and gave him the look. All women have one. That patented look that is unique to each woman, that distinctively conveys the very serious intention to do bodily harm to whomever they aim it at if said person does not cease and desist IMMEDIATELY. I never said a word.
Justin backed up. He set the bottle on the bar, opened his mouth to say something else, and I looked at him again.
He turned and literally scooted back into the kitchen. I sent one of the servers to go get Kristie, and when she showed up, I told her I needed to talk to her behind the curtain, I told the guy standing at the bar that I would be right back, and I ignored the guy that had been standing with Justin.
I told Kristie what had just happened. About the guy asking me for scotch, not wanting to pay for the good stuff, and that according to Justin (I may not have dignified his spiel with an answer, but I did hear him) he had come downstairs and asked for a glass of Glenfiddich, and Justin had told him they were already closed, but (and I believe he paid Justin to do so) he would take the bottle upstairs so I could sell it to him. I also told Kristie that because of the new policies we apparently had, she now had to deal with it. She just looked at me and said "What the fuck did Justin think he was doing??? Can't you just handle it?"
NO. I'm sorry, but no. Not if I want to keep my job.
So she went and talked to the guy, and then told me it was ok to serve him the scotch, but to keep it out of sight so no one else would want it.
The man had 2 that first time, which he promptly poured into one glass, so there goes the no doubles rule for this function. He had another one later, and after paying for all this, what does he tip me?
ONE. RED. CENT. That's right folks, he gave me a 1 cent tip for $24.75 worth of liquor. And his bitching about not wanting to pay for the Glenlivet? He paid more for the Glenfiddich at $8.25 per than the $7.75 for the stuff I had.
And as if all this wasn't enough, seemed that everybody preferred coming to my bar rather than going to Ruann's so they shut him down early. Which means I had to serve 200 people at last call, haul the leftover dinner wine, all the empties, and both back bars downstairs and put everything up. So I headed to the basement, rounded the corner, and slammed on the brakes. Because right in front of the cage where I had to push past to get to the recycle bins, are dozens of empty boxes. And I can hear talking inside the cage.
So I walked around the cart, and stood in front of the cage, hands clasped in front of me. Eventually, Kristy (evil) and Kat turned around and noticed me standing there. Kristy.....lol.....she looks at me and says, hand to God,
"You are really creeping me out standing there looking at me like that"
Muhaha (but on the inside)
I turned around and walked away. I finished my work, made sure other Kristie (good,supervisor upstairs) had gotten all the facts about what Justin had done written up in her report, and I went home.
I picked up dinner, I got home, I walked into the house, and when Scott came downstairs and put his arms around me, I burst into tears.
This has been the single worst weekend I have ever had at work. I don't know how much more of this I can take, but I believe that what Judy (Scott's mom) and Scott said was best: Just keep working until the best job of my life falls into my lap like this one did, and then move on. That way the bills get paid, and if I can shelve my pride for a bit, I may get back to where I used to be, emotionally. But the days of being at their beck and call are over. Ima do my job and go home. I am not going to leave as soon as I am done, I am going to take my time and make sure that everything gets done, no matter how long it takes. And if that means they start paying me a shitload of overtime, so be it. At least I won't have to be accused of asking to go home early.
They will learn. But at what cost to me?
But Scott made it better. We played mini golf with his parents on Monday, since it was a holiday up here, we had dinner together, and Judy and I got to have a girl to girl chat while the boys were downstairs playing ping pong. Then we came home, and I settled in to watch the Shrek movies he had gotten for me for my birthday.
"Just because people call you names, doesn't mean you have to listen to them. And it certainly doesn't make you what they call you. The only person standing in your way is you
Brilliant. Amazing how a movie like Shrek can give you a whole new way to look at things.....
COMMENTS
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Requiem
07:54 Aug 31 2011
Interesting!
Joli
23:06 Sep 01 2011
Hey...no experience nedded!
Vampirewitch39
22:18 Sep 02 2011
So I guess you are not going to do it? lol