Im at at 3am not able to sleep, maybe its the fact that I ate a ton of food at 10 last night and perhaps the most deadly desert of all time. Or maybe its the fact that i had my first official date with my girlfriend who is the raddest. To remedy this I just had a sip of my St. Remy's Napeoleon brandy to knock me out
Top 6 as they appear on my sleep playlist
6) Athlete - It's Not your Fault
5) The Beatles - Here Comes the Sun
4) David Gray - Babylon
3) Sigur Ros - Random song I dont know name of, good piano
2) Sting - Fields of Gold
1) The Wallflowers - Closer to You
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Sunday, September 21, 2008
6 Things I don't understand about UVIC/Victoria
6) Recently the workers of the SUB (Student Union Building) went on strike. They promptly set up picket lines in front of the building where such things as the campus pub and used bookstore are. I go to buy used books and I fing this debacle is going on. I find out that they are demanding more money. It's very iromnic that they are striking considering most of the employees are students pulling in $10 an hour. Most of them live on campus and have to literally walk 10 seconds to get to work where they pretty much touch themselves. Perhaps they thing that makes me wonder the most is that they are part of the UNITED STEEL WORKERS UNION. They work at a university.
5) I walked in to my first Geography 101A lab and immediately I knew the teacher was a huge hippy. Why let a dis-organized grad student teach a class that is very nescessary for my very survival at UVIC. She is clearly not ready for the big leagues like a few other grad students I've run across in my schooling career.
4) There are kids at UVIC right now who I'm pretty sure just graduated middle school. Some kids are so small and not ready for the University life that it's embarassing. Especially those 18 year girls who dont know what geography is, they think it's a function on their iPhone. Dear Uvic. please use more discretion on selecting your students, Love Mark.
3) Downtown Victoria and the surrounding area is a sweet place to be. A lot of cool things to explore and do. One thing I don't get is how there are literally, a dozen Traveller Inn Motels within a 15km radius.
Hotel Guest
"Shoot honey, I guess this Travellers Inn is full, I guess were out of luck."
Hotel Front Desk Worker
"Excuse me sir, have you tried the five other Travellers Inn within 2km of this location?"
In my mind unnesscary, What about the Sandman Inn, why doesn't he get some of the action?
2) uSource is the new registration system at Uvic, I refer to it as amateur hour. The old webview system worked fine and it had a simple user interface. uSource is proably more confusing than Stephen Hawkings Quantnum Physic theories. I try to register for a class and it says I have a major hold restriction. Ok, what is a major hold restriction you might ask. I asked the same thing and the a-clown who came up with the system decided not disclose what a major hold restriction is. Long story short not many studenst or faculty members are fans. They are not fans of getting random announcements about the UVIC field hockey team tunig SFU in an exhibition game rather than finding out if they can get into the one last class they need to graduate. There is also a group on facebook called "10,000 Strong against uSource". I would like to point out that this is more than half the student population at UVIC.
1) I dont mean to be offensive when I say this. I walk onto campus my first day back and I see construction going on right at the centre of campus. It is a aboriginal celebration centre for the Uvic aborigianl Student Union. Perhaps the ironic thing is that I have at the most seen 5 native students at UVIC. You do the math, it doesn't make much sence to build a 2 million dollar building for five students. How about cutting down on tution?
5) I walked in to my first Geography 101A lab and immediately I knew the teacher was a huge hippy. Why let a dis-organized grad student teach a class that is very nescessary for my very survival at UVIC. She is clearly not ready for the big leagues like a few other grad students I've run across in my schooling career.
4) There are kids at UVIC right now who I'm pretty sure just graduated middle school. Some kids are so small and not ready for the University life that it's embarassing. Especially those 18 year girls who dont know what geography is, they think it's a function on their iPhone. Dear Uvic. please use more discretion on selecting your students, Love Mark.
3) Downtown Victoria and the surrounding area is a sweet place to be. A lot of cool things to explore and do. One thing I don't get is how there are literally, a dozen Traveller Inn Motels within a 15km radius.
Hotel Guest
"Shoot honey, I guess this Travellers Inn is full, I guess were out of luck."
Hotel Front Desk Worker
"Excuse me sir, have you tried the five other Travellers Inn within 2km of this location?"
In my mind unnesscary, What about the Sandman Inn, why doesn't he get some of the action?
2) uSource is the new registration system at Uvic, I refer to it as amateur hour. The old webview system worked fine and it had a simple user interface. uSource is proably more confusing than Stephen Hawkings Quantnum Physic theories. I try to register for a class and it says I have a major hold restriction. Ok, what is a major hold restriction you might ask. I asked the same thing and the a-clown who came up with the system decided not disclose what a major hold restriction is. Long story short not many studenst or faculty members are fans. They are not fans of getting random announcements about the UVIC field hockey team tunig SFU in an exhibition game rather than finding out if they can get into the one last class they need to graduate. There is also a group on facebook called "10,000 Strong against uSource". I would like to point out that this is more than half the student population at UVIC.
1) I dont mean to be offensive when I say this. I walk onto campus my first day back and I see construction going on right at the centre of campus. It is a aboriginal celebration centre for the Uvic aborigianl Student Union. Perhaps the ironic thing is that I have at the most seen 5 native students at UVIC. You do the math, it doesn't make much sence to build a 2 million dollar building for five students. How about cutting down on tution?
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Top 6 Scars On My Body
6. The Sparkling Blister - This was what inspired me to write this blog. After the screwing at the hands of the man, I moved on to a new restaurant. We like to bring out ice cream with sparklers to those who are fortunate enough to celebrate their birthday with us. The process is oft accompanied by much song, festivity and bru-ha-ha.
I was recently bringing a sparklered ice cream out a patron when it started to tumble over. Not wanting the prospect of it igniting the carpet and burning down the building to interfere with the celebration, I reached out to grab it with my right (not left) hand. As a result, I got a sweet burn on the edge of my pointer finger. A wonderful bump of a blister appeared. Almost two weeks later, there is still a discolored blotch on my finger. I'm sure it will go away in time, but for now, it's still a scar.
5. The Juice Box Mishap - I've always been really smart. One of my smartest moments was when I tried to cut open a frozen juice box to eat the frosty-delicious counterpart to the liquid apple juice we all know and love. In my genius, I put a part of my thumb (the opposable part) right in my cutting lane in an attempt to stabilize the box. As soon as I started cutting, I felt a pain shooting across my poor appendage. I dropped my knife and stared at it. Astounded by the extent of my intelligence, I only hoped that it would not leave a scar. About seven years later, it sure has. Tiny, insignificant, yet present.
4. The Adenoid Annoy - I was born with large adenoids. For those of you who don't know what they are, adenoids are mechanisms in your nostrils that help filter out harmful bacteria. They're especially important during infancy when your immune system isn't as rocking as your adult one. However, in some situations, like mine, the adenoids are so big that not even air can get through the nostrils. For those of you who don't know, air is important for humans at all stages of development. Thus, the decision to have them removed was made.
I have not actually looked into my nostrils to see the scar, but I'm sure its there. Along with it are a few other side effects. Some very observant people have told me that one of my nostrils is bigger than the other. This is because one side of my nose isn't even connected to the cartilage - I assume this was a result of the surgery. Obviously my parents spared no expense when getting a highly qualified surgeon for me.
Also, a good friend has made fun of my eating habits. It turns out that, unlike what I do, you're not supposed to breath in as you take a bite. Try as I might, I can't consistently breathe through my nose as I'm eating. Breathing through my mouth causes me to get a lot of extra air stuck in my stomach, which will require that I lie down after eating really slurpy foods to ease the discomfort.
It also affects my athletic life. Last week playing soccer, I tried as hard as I could to breath in through my nose, because this is apparently helps all your muscles get their oxygen better. Instead, it just felt like I wasn't breathing at all. I think the nose-breathing-motor-skills that infants usually develop was withheld from me, because of my gargantuan adenoids.
3. The Doctor Jack Parallel - One night at college last year, I started having a pain in my gut. I tried to sleep it off, but just ended up waking up in the middle of the night and throwing up. I woke up with the same pain in the morning and talked to a few others about it. I kept hearing that my symptoms were telling of appendicitis. As things got worse, I decided to check in at the hospital and, yep, they were going to take it out. That night.
The nice thing was that the entire school found out about it, and I got a sweet scar. Had I known how much sympathy I would get and how much school I would miss for a simple (as far as surgeries go) surgery I would have had it taken out years ago. Having staples in your body is also pretty sweet.
2. The First Kiss - I always liked animals. Granted, I was scared of our first family dog, Penelope the First. She was a huge German Shepherd though, so it was merited. She was also the nicest dog in the world.
There was a dog who wasn't the nicest one in the world though. That's because this dog was the spawn of Satan. I think its name was Sam, although I can't really remember. I probably blocked it out of my mind.
Anyways, I was holding this dog, who belonged to my cousins. He started to growl a little bit and I was quickly encouraged to put him down. Thinking I could coax it back to happiness, I held on a little bit longer. When it continued to exhibit its spiteful demeanor, I decided to drop it. However, that was also the moment that Devil-Dog decided to jump off of my arms and bite my face. He bit me right in the corners of the mouth and hung from my face. I'm not lying or making this up. I had to get a few stitches in either side and get some shots. To be honest, I'm not sure if you can actually see the scars since the Terrier of Terror's teeth were so small but this instance has left an emotional scar on me, if nothing else.
The worst was that a few years later, I was at the home of these same cousins. Lockjaw Lucifer came and tried to cuddle with me on my lap. My aunt proclaimed that it was his way of saying sorry. I saw through it. He was gloating. He was gloating at the fact that he gotten away with such a vicious attack with no repercussions. Because of my family connections, I could do nothing to get my revenge. If I had my way, I would have been the one gloating - as I drowned him in the toilet. Or a small pond. Or just bit him.
1. The Infamy - I was a young boy with lots of life. My parents worked at a bible college in Brazil and I worked at skipping the weekly chapels they went to. I was successful this night. I met up with some other Brazilian boys and played tag on the bible college grounds. I, of course, was not it because I'm so fleet on my feet. However, me and the other guys were all chased into the corner by the person who was it. He was obviously pretty good at tag.
It wasn't an inescapable corner though. There was a ledge sticking out that could give us sufficient leverage to scale the two-meter wall we had come to. Thus, we all did that. When I got to the top of the wall, however, with the person who was it running up behind me, I started to get second thoughts. The wall was really high. The other boys seemed to jump off it with no problem though. So, that's what I did.
The next thing I knew, I was lying on the ground with all the other boys staring down at me. My forehead felt funny, so I tried to touch it. It was a weird sensation not feeling your forehead where it was supposed to be. Before I knew it, the chapel service had been called and my dad was picking me up and putting me in the back of our station wagon. The twenty-something woman I had an older-woman-crush on sat with me in the back. That was cool.
I remember the doctor stitching me up and giving me latex gloves and a syringe (needleless) as a souvenir. My body had some souvenirs as well - in the form of huge face scabs, a swollen-shut purple eye, and, of course, the coolest scar ever.
My sister refused to look at me for a few days and it took a really long time to heal. But it wasn't so bad. I'm not really even sure if it hurt all that much. We went back one time in the day to the place I fell to try and figure out what happened. Turns out that the wall I jumped (fell) off was right next to the students' dormitories. Thus, they used that area to hang their clotheslines. We think that I must have hooked my foot on one of the lines and become propelled face first into the concrete below.
Yet no brain damage or any other negative effects befell me from the accident. Just an amazing scar on my forehead that speaks of destiny, danger and manliness. I used to not like it, but now its probably the best part of my body. People think Harry Potter was cool cause he came onto the scene with a forehead scar, but the fact is that he's more than a decade too late. That's right, Potts, I've been sportin' this biz since before you even was born. And shall I so sport it, until I get an even bigger scar - a scar we all know as death.
I was recently bringing a sparklered ice cream out a patron when it started to tumble over. Not wanting the prospect of it igniting the carpet and burning down the building to interfere with the celebration, I reached out to grab it with my right (not left) hand. As a result, I got a sweet burn on the edge of my pointer finger. A wonderful bump of a blister appeared. Almost two weeks later, there is still a discolored blotch on my finger. I'm sure it will go away in time, but for now, it's still a scar.
5. The Juice Box Mishap - I've always been really smart. One of my smartest moments was when I tried to cut open a frozen juice box to eat the frosty-delicious counterpart to the liquid apple juice we all know and love. In my genius, I put a part of my thumb (the opposable part) right in my cutting lane in an attempt to stabilize the box. As soon as I started cutting, I felt a pain shooting across my poor appendage. I dropped my knife and stared at it. Astounded by the extent of my intelligence, I only hoped that it would not leave a scar. About seven years later, it sure has. Tiny, insignificant, yet present.
4. The Adenoid Annoy - I was born with large adenoids. For those of you who don't know what they are, adenoids are mechanisms in your nostrils that help filter out harmful bacteria. They're especially important during infancy when your immune system isn't as rocking as your adult one. However, in some situations, like mine, the adenoids are so big that not even air can get through the nostrils. For those of you who don't know, air is important for humans at all stages of development. Thus, the decision to have them removed was made.
I have not actually looked into my nostrils to see the scar, but I'm sure its there. Along with it are a few other side effects. Some very observant people have told me that one of my nostrils is bigger than the other. This is because one side of my nose isn't even connected to the cartilage - I assume this was a result of the surgery. Obviously my parents spared no expense when getting a highly qualified surgeon for me.
Also, a good friend has made fun of my eating habits. It turns out that, unlike what I do, you're not supposed to breath in as you take a bite. Try as I might, I can't consistently breathe through my nose as I'm eating. Breathing through my mouth causes me to get a lot of extra air stuck in my stomach, which will require that I lie down after eating really slurpy foods to ease the discomfort.
It also affects my athletic life. Last week playing soccer, I tried as hard as I could to breath in through my nose, because this is apparently helps all your muscles get their oxygen better. Instead, it just felt like I wasn't breathing at all. I think the nose-breathing-motor-skills that infants usually develop was withheld from me, because of my gargantuan adenoids.
3. The Doctor Jack Parallel - One night at college last year, I started having a pain in my gut. I tried to sleep it off, but just ended up waking up in the middle of the night and throwing up. I woke up with the same pain in the morning and talked to a few others about it. I kept hearing that my symptoms were telling of appendicitis. As things got worse, I decided to check in at the hospital and, yep, they were going to take it out. That night.
The nice thing was that the entire school found out about it, and I got a sweet scar. Had I known how much sympathy I would get and how much school I would miss for a simple (as far as surgeries go) surgery I would have had it taken out years ago. Having staples in your body is also pretty sweet.
2. The First Kiss - I always liked animals. Granted, I was scared of our first family dog, Penelope the First. She was a huge German Shepherd though, so it was merited. She was also the nicest dog in the world.
There was a dog who wasn't the nicest one in the world though. That's because this dog was the spawn of Satan. I think its name was Sam, although I can't really remember. I probably blocked it out of my mind.
Anyways, I was holding this dog, who belonged to my cousins. He started to growl a little bit and I was quickly encouraged to put him down. Thinking I could coax it back to happiness, I held on a little bit longer. When it continued to exhibit its spiteful demeanor, I decided to drop it. However, that was also the moment that Devil-Dog decided to jump off of my arms and bite my face. He bit me right in the corners of the mouth and hung from my face. I'm not lying or making this up. I had to get a few stitches in either side and get some shots. To be honest, I'm not sure if you can actually see the scars since the Terrier of Terror's teeth were so small but this instance has left an emotional scar on me, if nothing else.
The worst was that a few years later, I was at the home of these same cousins. Lockjaw Lucifer came and tried to cuddle with me on my lap. My aunt proclaimed that it was his way of saying sorry. I saw through it. He was gloating. He was gloating at the fact that he gotten away with such a vicious attack with no repercussions. Because of my family connections, I could do nothing to get my revenge. If I had my way, I would have been the one gloating - as I drowned him in the toilet. Or a small pond. Or just bit him.
1. The Infamy - I was a young boy with lots of life. My parents worked at a bible college in Brazil and I worked at skipping the weekly chapels they went to. I was successful this night. I met up with some other Brazilian boys and played tag on the bible college grounds. I, of course, was not it because I'm so fleet on my feet. However, me and the other guys were all chased into the corner by the person who was it. He was obviously pretty good at tag.
It wasn't an inescapable corner though. There was a ledge sticking out that could give us sufficient leverage to scale the two-meter wall we had come to. Thus, we all did that. When I got to the top of the wall, however, with the person who was it running up behind me, I started to get second thoughts. The wall was really high. The other boys seemed to jump off it with no problem though. So, that's what I did.
The next thing I knew, I was lying on the ground with all the other boys staring down at me. My forehead felt funny, so I tried to touch it. It was a weird sensation not feeling your forehead where it was supposed to be. Before I knew it, the chapel service had been called and my dad was picking me up and putting me in the back of our station wagon. The twenty-something woman I had an older-woman-crush on sat with me in the back. That was cool.
I remember the doctor stitching me up and giving me latex gloves and a syringe (needleless) as a souvenir. My body had some souvenirs as well - in the form of huge face scabs, a swollen-shut purple eye, and, of course, the coolest scar ever.
My sister refused to look at me for a few days and it took a really long time to heal. But it wasn't so bad. I'm not really even sure if it hurt all that much. We went back one time in the day to the place I fell to try and figure out what happened. Turns out that the wall I jumped (fell) off was right next to the students' dormitories. Thus, they used that area to hang their clotheslines. We think that I must have hooked my foot on one of the lines and become propelled face first into the concrete below.
Yet no brain damage or any other negative effects befell me from the accident. Just an amazing scar on my forehead that speaks of destiny, danger and manliness. I used to not like it, but now its probably the best part of my body. People think Harry Potter was cool cause he came onto the scene with a forehead scar, but the fact is that he's more than a decade too late. That's right, Potts, I've been sportin' this biz since before you even was born. And shall I so sport it, until I get an even bigger scar - a scar we all know as death.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Top 6 Reasons to Contribute to a New Blog
6. It is Friday night and your 'editor' is at a hockey game.
5. Chess sucks. How is it fair in any way, shape or form that a computer can calculate every single possible move...okay. Chess sucks. Full stop.
4. You made plans to have breakfast this morning with a bunch of guys. The alarm woke you up at 8:40am, no guys in sight. Apparently they had all forgotten and you had breakfast with one other guy. At 12 o'clock, you fell asleep and proceeded to take a 2 hour nap. Now you aren't tired.
3. Your friend is going to make you drive home as soon as you close your computer.
2. The university sent the student leaders on a 'leadership retreat' this weekend. Besides all obvious positions, it turns out that flying by the seat of your pants in a lounge geared towards international students counts as leading students. Unfortunately, that is exactly what your girlfriend does.
1. Your philosophy major is coming to a close and you realize that, unless a movie star sees your blog contributions and asks you if you'd be willing to write a screenplay, you will be flat broke and career-less.
5. Chess sucks. How is it fair in any way, shape or form that a computer can calculate every single possible move...okay. Chess sucks. Full stop.
4. You made plans to have breakfast this morning with a bunch of guys. The alarm woke you up at 8:40am, no guys in sight. Apparently they had all forgotten and you had breakfast with one other guy. At 12 o'clock, you fell asleep and proceeded to take a 2 hour nap. Now you aren't tired.
3. Your friend is going to make you drive home as soon as you close your computer.
2. The university sent the student leaders on a 'leadership retreat' this weekend. Besides all obvious positions, it turns out that flying by the seat of your pants in a lounge geared towards international students counts as leading students. Unfortunately, that is exactly what your girlfriend does.
1. Your philosophy major is coming to a close and you realize that, unless a movie star sees your blog contributions and asks you if you'd be willing to write a screenplay, you will be flat broke and career-less.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Top 6 Ways The Man Screwed Me This Summer
Summer is gone, and it ended well. The beginning and middle were quite tumultuous. That was mainly because I found myself very involved with "The Man". Who is The Man? The Man is any part of corporate North America that seems bent on screwing you over. That's exactly what The Man did to me. I got a job in a restaurant as a server, and it sucked. I won't go in to the specifics of the job because slander is illegal and I still feel a level of attachment to some of the individuals that are still involved with the man. Also, before I being I would like to say that I do not hold any specific individual in mind as The Man. The Man is the symbol of the sum of the whole.
And these are the top 6 ways that The Man screwed me.
6. The Eternal Wait - I had wanted to work at this restaurant for over a year now. It was always my favorite restaurant because of its location, food and environment. I originally applied to work there the year before and was shut down. However, a few good friends of mine started working there, and after hearing of a change of management, I decided to go in and apply again. I walked in, had an interview and had the manager tell me that because of my reference, I was in. It should only be a week or so until they call me.
However, a week went by and I heard nothing. I called them to see what was up and spoke to another manager. She had no idea about me and told me that I wasn't hired for sure yet. I had to wait a little while longer. To make a long story short (and believe me, it's long) I was eventually told by my friend who worked there, via Facebook, that I was hired and just had to wait until the end of the month of May to be trained. In the middle of the month, I received a phone call while I was away volunteering at a youth conference. Apparently, orientation was the next day at 9 a.m. Just happy to get into the system, I was willing to overlook the less-than-twenty-four-hours notification, leave my volunteer position and start working. But, I was encouraged that it was no problem, I should stick to my commitments and I would be beginning in just under a week anyways. Great.
A week later, I still hadn't heard from them. I called again and was told that I wasn't put on that list of trainees, they were full and I had to wait another three weeks. Being a college student that was depending on this job for money to pay tuition in the fall, I needed to get things going. The frustrating thing was that I turned down another for sure job and a second interview somewhere else to work at this restaurant, since it was my favorite. I tried going back to those other jobs, but no dice. After two weeks, I buckled and called The Man back. They were still willing to get me in the system, now that I had waited almost a whole month to be orientated. And I finally was. It was over a month between that first interview I had in the restaurant and when I got to show up for a shift. At least I was working now, right? Well...
5. The Snapshow Sending - What they didn't tell me in their extensive training process was that getting decent shifts was even more difficult than being able to start working. I left my schedule wide open, hoping that they would see just how eager I was to work as much as I possibly could, especially to make up for the time they stole from me. I got six shifts a week! The only problem was that I was lucky if I could work twenty hours in those six shifts.
For those of you who haven't served before, let me break it down to you how it works. A restaurant has a certain amount of servers starting at either lunch or dinner time. Aside from previously selected individuals who stay until closing, the servers are then sent home when business dies down.
There were a few problems with this set-up. First of all, it was the summer and the food that this restaurant specialized in was not very summer-friendly. Thus, it was slow. That was okay though - I could overlook that. Second, there was a bonus up for grabs for the manager that could minimize the total amount of money The Man had to pay for labor. Thus, servers were sent home as quickly as possible. A two-hour shift became a long day for some stretches. There were many days that I was not even allowed to start. I would drive for forty-five minutes to a job that I was willing to do, but was not allowed to do. For accounting purposes, I kept track of the money I was making - and looking over it, I still wonder why I hung on to this job for so long.
4. The Heartbreak Story - Eventually, I was fed up. There is nothing more frustrating than wanting to really lay your best effort down at a job and feeling like The Man won't let you. So, I flirted with another restaurant. I still wanted to hold on to my job with The Man though. I still liked the restaurant, and I had made a few solid friends during my tenure there. So, I sat down with the manager in charge of scheduling and had a heart-to-heart. I told him that I needed a certain amount of shifts where I could make money because I needed it for the Fall. I wanted a straight answer - just a yes or no. Instead, he started off on some tangent about how he has so many people to please and if he doesn't give the single mother enough shifts then she'll go broke...etc...etc...etc... He had a good point. But I knew that. I totally understood why it would be hard for a manger to give me more shifts. What bugged me was the way it was done. This conversation was the make-or-break point after months of frustration. I guess I was half-expecting an apology, or at least some sort of sympathy for my situation. Instead, I was told that my situation was less pressing than that of others. Even though it was true, I still don't think it was the right thing to do. Business is business, but when you need to leave someone out in the cold, at least give them a blanket.
3. The Lack of Confidence - Backing the story up a bit, I frequently tried to stay longer on my shifts to make some decent money. At one point, a co-worker was willing to let me stay for her all-afternoon shift. I would make some pretty good cash! The only thing that it depended on was the manager's approval. They didn't approve. I didn't have enough experience. I guess a year of serving experience isn't enough to qualify me to work on a mid-week afternoon in the middle of summer.
On top of that, I always wanted to close on my evening shifts. This meant that I would stay for the full night, and again, make good money. I wasn't allowed to do this, however, because I wasn't trained for it. I finally got trained for it, a week before I decided to pull the plug on the job. Closing involved wiping down a few counters and cleaning the heads of the pop machine. Obviously, this was something that I needed special training for.
2. The Hippocratic Denial - Towards the end of my initial training, one of the manager's took the group of new recuits aside and gave us some tips. He looked right at me as he said "Don't think you know everything just because you've served before!" I was tempted to take it personally, but reminded myself that he was speaking to the whole group.
The next day, I was speaking to that same manager and the general manager. The general manager turned to the other and asked him if he had spoken about what she had wanted him to. He said yes (other than what was recounted in the above paragraph, he hadn't). I quizzed as to what this was about - apparently, they thought I was too confident. One of my trainers said I was looking around too much during training. The other thing was that I was walking around too much while serving tables. Clearly, I had megalomanical issues. I apologized, and promised to try to change my erroneous ways.
Later, we were out with the rest of the training group when the same manager said "Don't think you know everything. I've spoken with (my name) specifically about this, but it stands for you all as well."
Thank you Mr. Manager. I appreciate you letting me know about my ego problems. Letting the rest of my training team know about them too will only help me eradicate my issues. Not only will I now have to live my entire life wondering if every little thing I do is a testament to my inner arrogance (and I did), I can also live with the comforting knowledge that my co-workers are aware of the situation and can kindly assist me in my battle. That was a pure move of professionalism to notify my co-workers of private issues you see in my life. Thank you. *applause*
1. The Man and His Socks - I had three shifts left. I had already started at my new restaurant (which I am still at, and loving) and was giddy about the prospect of actually making money and having some respect at a job. The dress code for The Man though, like many restaurants, required black socks. I'm all over that. I'm a firm believer in following rules like that. Truthfully. I show up early to my jobs, I dress right, I do everything I can to make sure that there is no fault to be found in my commitment to a job.
But this day, I decided to ease up a bit. Because all my comfortable black socks were in the wash, I put on my charcoal gray ones instead. I went to a private school, and they were okay there. I worked at another restaurant with a similar dress code, and they were okay there. I would be perfectly fine wearing these socks with a suit. If you held them up against black, you could tell they were not black. However, to wear these with black shoes and black pants and a black belt would be no sort of faux pas whatsoever. And besides, they hadn't checked my socks once in my two months of working there.
That day, they did. And of course, the socks weren't black enough. I could either go home, or walk across the street and buy some black socks from Winners. I left with the full intention of just going home. How could they do this to me? I was never late, I was always dedicated, I wanted nothing more than to stay there and work for years. And now, three shifts away from finishing, they do this to me. I figured that was the last straw, I wasn't going to give in to The Man any longer!
But that's the thing about The Man. It's like an unhealthy relationship. The one where you love the other person, you lay your life down for them and they just throw it away. You show up to their house and find them with someone else. They tell you they'll try harder next time, but then you find them in the same position the following week. The relationship is full of empty promises, broken commitments and betrayed loyalty. What do you do?
That's exactly what I thought in that car. What do I do? I, like many others, first thought that the best way to stick it to the man was to flip it the bird and refute its demands. Then I thought about it more. I really thought about what it meant to stick it to the man. What would be the best thing to do to something that treated my commitment so poorly?
So I went across the street, I bought a pair of black socks and I came back to work the shift. And the next two shifts. Why? Because I realized that I had to do just that to truly say I gave it my all. I was willing to go to couples therapy. I was willing to see it from their side. I was willing to sacrifice, to give and to serve. But The Man was only willing to screw me.
I hope that we can work things out some day. Some day, I want to go back there, sit down, eat, tip well, laugh and remember the good times. I know that day will come, but not right now. Now, I'm still writing angry blogs and trying to forget. Until the time I can move on, I will continue to remember the top six ways that The Man screwed me this summer.
And these are the top 6 ways that The Man screwed me.
6. The Eternal Wait - I had wanted to work at this restaurant for over a year now. It was always my favorite restaurant because of its location, food and environment. I originally applied to work there the year before and was shut down. However, a few good friends of mine started working there, and after hearing of a change of management, I decided to go in and apply again. I walked in, had an interview and had the manager tell me that because of my reference, I was in. It should only be a week or so until they call me.
However, a week went by and I heard nothing. I called them to see what was up and spoke to another manager. She had no idea about me and told me that I wasn't hired for sure yet. I had to wait a little while longer. To make a long story short (and believe me, it's long) I was eventually told by my friend who worked there, via Facebook, that I was hired and just had to wait until the end of the month of May to be trained. In the middle of the month, I received a phone call while I was away volunteering at a youth conference. Apparently, orientation was the next day at 9 a.m. Just happy to get into the system, I was willing to overlook the less-than-twenty-four-hours notification, leave my volunteer position and start working. But, I was encouraged that it was no problem, I should stick to my commitments and I would be beginning in just under a week anyways. Great.
A week later, I still hadn't heard from them. I called again and was told that I wasn't put on that list of trainees, they were full and I had to wait another three weeks. Being a college student that was depending on this job for money to pay tuition in the fall, I needed to get things going. The frustrating thing was that I turned down another for sure job and a second interview somewhere else to work at this restaurant, since it was my favorite. I tried going back to those other jobs, but no dice. After two weeks, I buckled and called The Man back. They were still willing to get me in the system, now that I had waited almost a whole month to be orientated. And I finally was. It was over a month between that first interview I had in the restaurant and when I got to show up for a shift. At least I was working now, right? Well...
5. The Snapshow Sending - What they didn't tell me in their extensive training process was that getting decent shifts was even more difficult than being able to start working. I left my schedule wide open, hoping that they would see just how eager I was to work as much as I possibly could, especially to make up for the time they stole from me. I got six shifts a week! The only problem was that I was lucky if I could work twenty hours in those six shifts.
For those of you who haven't served before, let me break it down to you how it works. A restaurant has a certain amount of servers starting at either lunch or dinner time. Aside from previously selected individuals who stay until closing, the servers are then sent home when business dies down.
There were a few problems with this set-up. First of all, it was the summer and the food that this restaurant specialized in was not very summer-friendly. Thus, it was slow. That was okay though - I could overlook that. Second, there was a bonus up for grabs for the manager that could minimize the total amount of money The Man had to pay for labor. Thus, servers were sent home as quickly as possible. A two-hour shift became a long day for some stretches. There were many days that I was not even allowed to start. I would drive for forty-five minutes to a job that I was willing to do, but was not allowed to do. For accounting purposes, I kept track of the money I was making - and looking over it, I still wonder why I hung on to this job for so long.
4. The Heartbreak Story - Eventually, I was fed up. There is nothing more frustrating than wanting to really lay your best effort down at a job and feeling like The Man won't let you. So, I flirted with another restaurant. I still wanted to hold on to my job with The Man though. I still liked the restaurant, and I had made a few solid friends during my tenure there. So, I sat down with the manager in charge of scheduling and had a heart-to-heart. I told him that I needed a certain amount of shifts where I could make money because I needed it for the Fall. I wanted a straight answer - just a yes or no. Instead, he started off on some tangent about how he has so many people to please and if he doesn't give the single mother enough shifts then she'll go broke...etc...etc...etc... He had a good point. But I knew that. I totally understood why it would be hard for a manger to give me more shifts. What bugged me was the way it was done. This conversation was the make-or-break point after months of frustration. I guess I was half-expecting an apology, or at least some sort of sympathy for my situation. Instead, I was told that my situation was less pressing than that of others. Even though it was true, I still don't think it was the right thing to do. Business is business, but when you need to leave someone out in the cold, at least give them a blanket.
3. The Lack of Confidence - Backing the story up a bit, I frequently tried to stay longer on my shifts to make some decent money. At one point, a co-worker was willing to let me stay for her all-afternoon shift. I would make some pretty good cash! The only thing that it depended on was the manager's approval. They didn't approve. I didn't have enough experience. I guess a year of serving experience isn't enough to qualify me to work on a mid-week afternoon in the middle of summer.
On top of that, I always wanted to close on my evening shifts. This meant that I would stay for the full night, and again, make good money. I wasn't allowed to do this, however, because I wasn't trained for it. I finally got trained for it, a week before I decided to pull the plug on the job. Closing involved wiping down a few counters and cleaning the heads of the pop machine. Obviously, this was something that I needed special training for.
2. The Hippocratic Denial - Towards the end of my initial training, one of the manager's took the group of new recuits aside and gave us some tips. He looked right at me as he said "Don't think you know everything just because you've served before!" I was tempted to take it personally, but reminded myself that he was speaking to the whole group.
The next day, I was speaking to that same manager and the general manager. The general manager turned to the other and asked him if he had spoken about what she had wanted him to. He said yes (other than what was recounted in the above paragraph, he hadn't). I quizzed as to what this was about - apparently, they thought I was too confident. One of my trainers said I was looking around too much during training. The other thing was that I was walking around too much while serving tables. Clearly, I had megalomanical issues. I apologized, and promised to try to change my erroneous ways.
Later, we were out with the rest of the training group when the same manager said "Don't think you know everything. I've spoken with (my name) specifically about this, but it stands for you all as well."
Thank you Mr. Manager. I appreciate you letting me know about my ego problems. Letting the rest of my training team know about them too will only help me eradicate my issues. Not only will I now have to live my entire life wondering if every little thing I do is a testament to my inner arrogance (and I did), I can also live with the comforting knowledge that my co-workers are aware of the situation and can kindly assist me in my battle. That was a pure move of professionalism to notify my co-workers of private issues you see in my life. Thank you. *applause*
1. The Man and His Socks - I had three shifts left. I had already started at my new restaurant (which I am still at, and loving) and was giddy about the prospect of actually making money and having some respect at a job. The dress code for The Man though, like many restaurants, required black socks. I'm all over that. I'm a firm believer in following rules like that. Truthfully. I show up early to my jobs, I dress right, I do everything I can to make sure that there is no fault to be found in my commitment to a job.
But this day, I decided to ease up a bit. Because all my comfortable black socks were in the wash, I put on my charcoal gray ones instead. I went to a private school, and they were okay there. I worked at another restaurant with a similar dress code, and they were okay there. I would be perfectly fine wearing these socks with a suit. If you held them up against black, you could tell they were not black. However, to wear these with black shoes and black pants and a black belt would be no sort of faux pas whatsoever. And besides, they hadn't checked my socks once in my two months of working there.
That day, they did. And of course, the socks weren't black enough. I could either go home, or walk across the street and buy some black socks from Winners. I left with the full intention of just going home. How could they do this to me? I was never late, I was always dedicated, I wanted nothing more than to stay there and work for years. And now, three shifts away from finishing, they do this to me. I figured that was the last straw, I wasn't going to give in to The Man any longer!
But that's the thing about The Man. It's like an unhealthy relationship. The one where you love the other person, you lay your life down for them and they just throw it away. You show up to their house and find them with someone else. They tell you they'll try harder next time, but then you find them in the same position the following week. The relationship is full of empty promises, broken commitments and betrayed loyalty. What do you do?
That's exactly what I thought in that car. What do I do? I, like many others, first thought that the best way to stick it to the man was to flip it the bird and refute its demands. Then I thought about it more. I really thought about what it meant to stick it to the man. What would be the best thing to do to something that treated my commitment so poorly?
So I went across the street, I bought a pair of black socks and I came back to work the shift. And the next two shifts. Why? Because I realized that I had to do just that to truly say I gave it my all. I was willing to go to couples therapy. I was willing to see it from their side. I was willing to sacrifice, to give and to serve. But The Man was only willing to screw me.
I hope that we can work things out some day. Some day, I want to go back there, sit down, eat, tip well, laugh and remember the good times. I know that day will come, but not right now. Now, I'm still writing angry blogs and trying to forget. Until the time I can move on, I will continue to remember the top six ways that The Man screwed me this summer.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)