2004-11-13
Gripe
THIS IS A GRIPE ENTRY.
Yesterday was the worst day I've had at work yet. I got paid less than I thought I was going to, for starters. I'm very suspicious of a paycheck equal to or less than my last one when I've worked more hours. Then my manager (whom we'll call W.) and I kept getting on each other's nerves. We were busy all yesterday morning, and when we finally got a break, I made myself a large caramel latte with whole milk in a mug (so I wouldn't waste paper). Of course, as soon as I made it, customers started rolling in again, so I put it on the cabinet behind me. Three women came in and ordered three large nonfat lattes in mugs. My manager had asked me what was the drink I had made and set aside, and I told him it was mine. He thought I said "I made a mistake," and was about to serve it as a nonfat latte, when I noticed what he was doing and said, "NO! THAT'S A CARAMEL LATTE!" I wasn't worried about having to make myself another drink, but I didn't want him to send out the wrong drink, waste it because it's not what the customer had ordered, and then have them complaining. He got mad at me for being "so worked up" about it, and said that if I didn't calm down, he was going to send me home for the day because I was getting on his nerves. I wish he had sent me home, because then the rest of the horrid day could have been avoided.
The manager and his wife left the store to go check out a potential baker for the store, and said they'd be back 'soon'. They were gone for so long that it was time for my coworker to go home (she has a daughter, and has to be home before her daughter gets home from school), and I was there by myself. That's usually not a big deal, but yesterday it proved to be disastrous. An order of cups, milks, creamers, cakes, etc., came in, and I had to rush to put it away before things started spoiling (big shipment). I was carrying a cardboard case of milks to the kitchen when the bottom of the case dropped out, and a plastic carton of milk hit the floor and split open, flooding the floor with milk. Of course, as soon as that happened, three customers came in. One man ordered a decaf brew, and of course we were out of decaf, so I topped it off with another brew, at his request. I had intended to brew another pot of decaf, but then the order came in, and I forgot. hile I was ringing up the couple that came in after the man, the register system went down, and I had to try to fix it and make their drinks, all while trying not to slip in the milk that was everywhere. The woman had ordered a blended frozen drink, so of course the blender chose that time to not work correctly. It was quite a mess. Then the man who had the half decaf half regular brewed coffee, politely asked for a cup of another brew because his cup was cold. After the couple another man came in, but I didn't have any problems with his drink. Thankfully, as I was finishing taking care of all that, my managers (W., the one I had worked with that morning, and M., the other manager)walked in. M. was very understanding, and helped me get everything together. He cleaned the milk up, and I cleaned the mess from doing the orders in a rush up. We had another customer, and when I was finshed serving the customer their drink, I leaned against the counter for a minute, catching my breath and just resting for a minute. I wore platforms yesterday and my feet ached, and frankly, I was exhausted from being there since 7 (was called in early by W., so I missed two hours of sleep I was expecting) and having my ass handed to me while I had to do a million things at once, alone. W. sees me and says, "What are you doing?! I know you've just had your ass handed to you, but we have to put all these things away! Get to work!" I was not happy. I hadn't been able to take my break all day yesterday because I'd had nobody to cover while I did so. Even when my coworker was there, as soon as I stepped out from beind the counter, a bunch of people would come in, and I'd have to jump right back into barista position. If W. had been back when he said he was going to be, I could have taken my break, but that didn't happen. However, I didn't say anything, and started putting things up as quickly as possible. M. could tell I was stressed out and was very calm, sweet, and reassuring. As I was putting things up in the front, W. comes in and demands to know whether we've seen four cases of whole milk. M. replied that he had not or did not think so, and I said judging from the fridges, I think there was only three. W. yelled that he wanted us to talk about it, and that he wanted an aswer. M. said he'd just given him one, and to calm down as it was not that big of a deal, and easily solved. W. stormed off into the back. I went to the back to count the cases for the milk that we'd flattened, and began to cry. I couldn't help it. I was stressed out, I hadn't had a break all day, and now W. was yelling at me. I tried to act normal and not like I'd just cried, but I think M. realized I had. I told him that there were three flattened milk cases in the back, and I didn't see any more cases, so we must have only had three cases come in. He thanked me and told me I could go on home. He said that I had been there all day, it was time for me to go home, and especially now, while tempers were flaring. I asked him if he was sure he didn't want me to stay to help clean up, and he said they could take care of it, so I left. I was in my car, buckling my seatbelt when I saw W. heading towards my car. He looked angry, so I got out of the car to see what was up. "Where are you going?!," he yelled. I told him that M. had said I could go home. He demanded, "Who's going to clean up (the milk mess)?! M.?" I told him that M. had said that they could handle it. W. snorted angrily, shook his head, and said, "Fine, I can go home, too. M. can take care of everything!" and stormed off. I could feel my face screwing up before I could open my car door. Once inside, I began to bawl my eyes out. I cried all the way home, and was still crying when I let myself into the apartment. James demanded to know who had made me cry, and after I told him the story, he said that if this happened again, that he wanted me to quit. I feel like I'm on call 24/7, sometimes used, and not appreciated very much, and I'm not paid enough money to be treated that way. I was depressed for the rest of the evening. I keep hoping W. will call and apologize, but I doubt that's going to happen. Thankfully I am off today and tomorrow. I love my job, but not enough to be treated like that AND not make enough money to have any left over after I pay the bills and buy things we need . . . to include money to keep my gold membership going. Goodbye, beautiful template. Hello, plain red and white one. Gah!
aigre-douce at 11:07 a.m.