Category Archives: work

To Stress or Not to Stress?

Life really does get in the way of blogging, at least when you are as deliciously lazy as I am. When blogworthy things are happening, I am far too busy to actually blog them. That would make entirely too much sense. 

I find myself currently in the midst of an existential crisis, most notably existential because I am not sure if it is even occurring, or if I am just being an insufferable ninny. Probably the latter. 

Everything is going swimmingly. I’m beyond happy at work, succeeding for the first time in a little while. My confidence is definitely back. I’m reminded that doing well in (reasonably) less than favorable circumstances is my specialty and that I can have full control of a kitchen without being unpleasant about it. 

It is an amazing confidence boost to find that people actually like working with me. Not all of them, mind you. I’m not that nice. 

I couldn’t be happier relationship wise. Current connections are strengthening and new ones are being built, and I continued to be surprised at almost every turn. I might turn out to be a fully formed person someday!

Maybe this existential crisis just needed to be written out of my system. I miss the rhythmic pounding of keys and of iambic meter, carefully measured and artfully disrupted. The sentences that aren’t really. The turns of phrase that are trite, but still leave a warm feeling in that center of my brain that is all too pleased with itself. 

Maybe it’s time to pause from the reading, put down the books, and start working on my own.


Too lazy.


As everyone else in my life, besides me, expected, I caved. 

I didn’t end up quitting my job.

Partially because I am a pushover; it’s part of my genetic makeup. People convince me of things all the time. On a minutely basis, even.

And partially because I have nothing to lose by waiting a few months. I have the opportunity to keep my secure job and start over in another location. I really ought to at least try. 

* * * *

Spent some time on the phone with my brother-in-law, who I am closer to than any of my brothers, and he could sense the abject sadness that I just can’t shake. I told him all about work and home and the moving, and he could tell that those were issues, but that it wasn’t what was really bothering me. Older brothers are awesome like that.

So, we talked about what was really bothering me, and while it didn’t help in the fixing it sense, it helped in the everything is going to be okay sense. 

I try not to have a lot of bitterness about the past and the circumstances of my childhood, but the one thing that just pisses me off is the stunted emotional growth that has resulted. I’ve been able to get past everything else by sheer will. This is a little harder to overcome. 

I shouldn’t be feeling this right now. I’m 26 years old. Time to be a big girl about life. 

And I try, and sometimes, I even put on a good show, but everybody is right. I am such a mess.

That’s a Stabbin!

Despite my two week notice, I still had to go to a training class for two days this week. And the nerd in me rejoiced. I love the theorhetics of my job. If my job happened all on paper, and it mattered more what I knew than how I executed it in the face of reality, I would be golden.

But yesterday marked the return to the face of reality. Despite my jaded cynicism, I’m still an limited optimist. See, I drink the koolaid; I think that our Operations Systems are there for a reason, and the best run stores are those that run according to Systems. 

So, I went to work yesterday, and gave it the old college try. There was TTMing and Coaching going on, and I decided it was time to hold people accountable. So what if it was my last two weeks; there was going to be decorum on my last shifts, and it was going to be driven by me.

It started with the iPod. “Jane Doe, you are on order taker, you can’t have your iPod in.”

“I’ve had in on all day.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have. Put it away.”

And after some huffing and puffing, it was put away. 

Except that Jane Doe was now pissed, and proceeded to SLAM the window everytime it closed and opened. 

“Jane, you really can’t be slamming the window. Please stop.”

And then I moved on. “Joan Doe, you’re leaving at seven, so I need you to make sure all the salads are moved over and everything is stocked and cleaned.”

Imagine, Joan Doe didn’t give me a problem. She simply said, “Okay, I’m working on it.” I said thank you and moved on…

…to Jane Doe, who was leaving at 8.

“Jane, I really need you to be working on those dishes. They’re piling up back there.”

“No, I don’t want to do them.”

“Well, if they’re not done by eight, you don’t get to leave, so I suggest you do them now. Seriously, please just go do your dishes.”

I won’t recount anymore of the discussion, because it was both tedious and completely out of control. This girl had a meltdown. The swearing and the screaming on her part led to a phone call on my part to my supervisor, in which I completely lost it and threw my keys across the office and slammed the door in a fit of rage, and a declaration that I wasn’t going to make it the final week and a half.  It was not pretty.

But even uglier was the scene that ensued when I tried to get Jane Doe gracefully out the door, so as not to impact the operations of my restaurant any further. While I was switching drawers, she told whomever she was speaking to on the phone, that she was going to “stab that bitch.”

Three guesses as to who the bitch in question was.

All over dishes. 

God Almighty, I need a nice, serene job. Stat.

Happiness in Two Bowls

It took me a little while, but my happiness isn’t found behind a counter; it’s usually right there on the counter, and it often comes in a bowl.

For the longest while, I tied my self worth to my net worth, and my empowerment to my spending power. 

I am such the silly girl. 

A few days ago, I put in my two weeks’ notice. In a week and a half, I will be jobless.

But I will be happy.

Taking Control

Justin has posited that it is actually my mood that is causing all of this rain. It hasn’t been sunny for days. I kind of like the rain, though. Curling up in a chair with a book, while the rain rhythmically falls, Nickel Creek in the background, and a cup of cocoa nearby sounds like quite the soul soother.

My soul is in need of a little soothing.

Work has been just crushing my soul. Wareham is just a spirit killer. It’s not surprising that it has gotten to me; it’s just surprising that it has been this quick.

Here’s the thing about me and work. I have all this fantastic operational knowledge–not perfect, mind you, but good. I know exactly how a shift is supposed to run, and all the little technical details that are supposed to improve efficiency and productivity, and ultimately lead to a well-run shift.

Most of the problems in the restaurant are of the top-down variety. If the head guy sucks at his job and allows things to go all willy-nilly, there really is precious little we subordiates can do, especially with the people whose bad behaviors are reinforced by said head guy. 

I don’t get bad results because I am a bad manager. Sometimes I make poor decisions which lead to poor results, and that is undoubtedly my responsibility. I get bad results because I work in a bad store and I am not good enough or strong enough to fix it. 

And it’s not my job to fix it, at least not on my own. I am a very capable member of the team. I have a lot to contribute. I can be part of a go get ’em, let’s fix things team, but only if that is the prevailing attitude of the whole team. 

To steal a turn of phrase, I’ve been whispering a prayer in the fury of the storm. And the prayer can have a positive effect, when I have enough faith that it can, but lately my lamp is completely devoid of oil, and I feel more like I am throwing desperate pleas to a compassionless master. 

It’s time to turn off the poisonous tapes. I don’t suck at life, or my job. I do have a job that sucks the life out of me, though, and it is time to change that. 

I deserve better.

That’s It

The decision is final. I’m just not very good at my job. I can’t continue to have days like this and be okay with it.

I just can’t. So much for development.

I am sooooo angry, I can’t even write about how I had to physically get in the middle of a fight, in the middle of my busy f’n lunch time, and how the police came and how I had so few people to run the floor with that I actually had to lock the dining room.


And screw my homework, too. I don’t care about the stupid degree, that even if I get, I’ll never use.




The Pickup Window

I rocked the 2.5 hour sleepy time, sandwiched between lots and lots of work. Not only was I exhausted, but I was also pleasant, positive, productive, as well as punch drunk.

I like me that way. And apparently, so does everybody else. I got hit on by three separate cars full of guys. Attractive guys, nonetheless.

The last carful was the most entertaining. Three guys from Mass Maritime. They asked me when I was getting out of work. 

“Late, very late,” I answered with a wry grin.

“You should come hang out with us,” the one with the cute smile urged.

“I don’t make it a habit to associate with guys I meet in the drive thru. Never ends well.” I continue to grin as his buddies all laugh.

“Ohh, c’mon.”

“Look me up on Facebook,” I tease. “Or better yet, Craiglist, under missed connections.”

That does it. The laughter goes up a notch and I smile the smile I only smile when I feel completely at ease and in total control of a situation. 

“Enjoy your food, guys,” I say, my hand pushing the window closed, and they drive away. 

Missed connection, indeed.