Music is, to say the least, a very important part of my life. As for many people, it is an escape, an outlet, a pick-me-up, and something that creates camaraderie among those I hold nearest and dearest.
After having my first daughter, I got back into the swing of opening shifts at work rather quickly. These shifts include "throwing the load"...stocking the shelves. Unlike the large grocery store chains, who may stock the shelves throughout the day and night, we wake up before the sun rises and get all the stocking done before the doors open at 9 am. On an easy day, I may have about 6 pallets to unload onto the floor. On a more difficult day, 10-12. All to be completed within four hours.
Being such a small store, you'd think that maybe we'd have a system to air music while you shop (or, in this case, while we stock), but that is not true. And so, with nothing to hear but the buzzing of the lights, I would bring my iPod and jam out while I throw the load in the morning. In this case, it becomes an escape, a wake-me-up and a pick-me-up. At 5 am, I am still considered to be in zombie mode until I plug the ear buds in and sync up the chosen soundtrack for the morning. It most certainly has to be something upbeat. And I most certainly must be able to sing along. Though a bit bashful at first (I can't sing to save my life), I eventually gave up trying to conceal my attempts at stardom in (quietly) belting out my favorite tunes.
On one particular morning, I was going through the usual routine of unloading all of the pallets. A little more than half-way through, I was bringing the empty pallet that I had just finished into the backroom to toss all of the unneeded cardboard into the baler (the machine that smashes all of the cardboard into the nice, 6x4x4 square to be hauled off and recycled),
when the most awesome of all awesome drum solos came a 'blaring in my ears. I say that, though I can't recall exactly which song it was. Anyway, I pull the pallet around the corner by the baler and stop just in time to whip out my invisible drum sticks and start playing along. Totally wrapped up in the song, I didn't even notice my manager coming out of the freezer. As I opened my eyes and turned to throw something in the baler, I caught sight of him walking towards me, laughing. Turning every shade of red under the sun, I nervously laughed along.
"Hey, whatever it takes," he says.
Four hours of work in the morning: $57.
iPod: $199.
Boss catching my air drum solo: sheer embarrassment.
Hitting every beat during the air drum solo: Priceless.
Some things are worth the embarrassment.
Just a few months back, after I had my second daughter, I was at my doctor's office for a post-op visit. After checking in, I sat a seat in one of the many seating options: three couches, five or six large armchairs and a few other, smaller single-seater chairs. I picked one that was centrally located, just across from the door I'd be going into and just in front of the reception window. With several other people in the waiting room, I grabbed a magazine, knowing that I'd need it to pass the inevitable time before I met with the doctor.
One by one, the other women filed through the doors, where they met with one of three doctors who are part of the practice. Finally, it was down to me and one other woman who had come out of one door and was speaking with the receptionists. Very clearly within earshot. I can't remember the exact conversation, but I do recall thinking, Ok, we get you're pregnant, but this is a little overkill as far as having an attitude. I mean, she was rude. And again, I get when you're preggo and huge and wanting the damn spawn of satan out of your gut...I. Get. It. I had just been there. But I could tell that this woman used the term "bitch" on her business card. Ie: Tina McCrabbypants, Bitch Extraordinaire.
So when she was called to through the opposite door that she originally came out of, I overheard the receptionists laughing and complaining about her. "Yeah, she's always been like that! I mean, even before she was pregnant I remember her coming in and she's always been really rude. I feel sorry for her kids. I mean seriously, how was she even able to find someone willing to have children with her??"
As a human being and someone who clearly saw the encounter that had just ensued, I laughed. They gave me a nervous smile as they noticed I was listening and I just nodded my head along with them. Because let's be honest. There are people who rightfully deserve all the gossip and negative comments that others speak of them. And, as I have gladly found, its not just my job where people shit-talk others all the time.
I actually just read an article today in a magazine about gossip. The woman who wrote it was referring to the gossip that she partakes in about other mothers, children and generally people within her child's school. She wrote, though, that although it can be problematic to participate in such behavior at times, it is a social thing. And, even while we may feel guilty participating in useless gossip, it can be just as frowned-upon to NOT participate in it. Those who stay out of it can be seen as "the bad guy," who will tattle on those who are doing the talking.
So where and when should the line be drawn? And is it really such a big deal to speak what is on your mind? Sometimes I wish we were living the movie The History of Lying. How nice it would be just to say what we really feel at all times. How much easier things would be if when someone asked me, "How are you today?" I could be honest and reply, "Really shitty. That customer in front of you...could they be much more stupid? I mean really...if you only have $42 on you, your cart should not be that full in the first place. What do they think this is...1972? A dollar does not stretch that far...anywhere anymore."
Instead, on a good day, I reply with, "Good. And you?" On a bad day, "Fine. And you?" Makes things much easier. And, apparently, then I don't have to deal with Steve coming up and telling me I need to keep conversations with coworkers about the schedule to the office or break room.
On a positive note, the very first customer who came through my line yesterday was a little old lady, who was just buying some grapes. When she approached, I said hello and asked how she was doing. "Oh, just fine," she replied, "but I have to ask: how long as that man back there been working here? He has a bad attitude!" She actually went on for quite some time about how she doesn't live too far away, but would be sure not to come back to our store again because he makes shopping there an unpleasant experience. I nodded my head and slightly agreed with her, making sure not to speak too loudly (heaven forbid any other customer overhears and discloses my contempt for him).
It was a small victory, hearing from a complete stranger that my boss is a negative nancy. I tried to remember that as he was reprimanding me at the end of my shift.
I'll try and make it a goal to not speak my mind with coworkers quite so often. But I really don't feel bad about it.
As I last stated, I had this conversation with my manager recently about possibly taking on the role of a shift manager. I was hired into my current position with the impression that after learning what I needed as a cashier, I would be given the opportunity to move into a higher, better paid position of shift manager. After a few months working there, we got a new store manager. After only a few months of him being there, we had a DM trainee come to run our store for a while. Once he was gone and our store manager came back, I was just about ready to mention the topic when I found out I was pregnant. After the birth of my first child, we already had too many shift managers and the need simply wasn't there. So I waited. Again. And realized they put up with too much shit anyway--something I really didn't want.
Time went by, I had another child. Just before Christmas this past year, one shift manager hurt her wrist and has been out since. It's up in the air as to whether or not she will return. Shortly after the first was injured, another got in a car accident and broke her pelvis in several spots. My husband had been urging me to try to push further within my job, so long as I'm there. He knows it's not my dream job (or that I have any intention of staying for yet another five years), but thought moving up is an aspiration in itself and I should try to better my position while I'm there. Ok. Yeah, I suppose I agree. And so, with two shift managers being out for an extended (to say the least) period of time, I decided to approach my manager and offer my assistance and take on a higher role. Yes, the pay increase would be a plus, but in all honesty, I really was just trying to help. I knew that the other two shift managers wanted as many hours as possible and if I were to become one, I would only get the leftover shifts that no one else could work--a backup of sorts.
Before I get too far ahead of myself, I have to inform you of the way the schedule works at our store. My manager (let's call him "Steve") writes out the schedule for the next week and posts it on Mondays (usually). Since I have been back from maternity leave, my schedule has been pretty consistent: a few nights during the week--usually two or three shifts from 3-9, a mid-shift on Wednesdays--1-8, and one or both days on the weekend. He rarely makes much of a change in the schedules, unless someone requests a day off here or there. His schedule is absolutely, 100% the same: Monday-5-3, Tuesday-5-3, Wednesday-11-9, Thursday-5-3, Friday-off, Saturday-5-3, Sunday-off. Unless he has to work a Sunday (they rotate). The other shift managers generally close most nights, occasionally open during the week with him, and open on Wednesdays and Fridays (when they don't have to be in at 5 am to "throw the load," or stock shelves, as most would call it). Pretty much routine.
The day that the one shift manager got into a car accident, Steve called me up and told me. He also made it a point to tell me that with this inconvenience, I may need to have a little more flexibility in my schedule. In other words, that I may have to work a few more mid-shifts throughout the week. I told him, no big deal, my father-in-law is still home and could probably watch the girls, if need be. Its been two months and he has yet to schedule me any mid-shifts aside from Wednesdays. Which...whatever. I don't really care. It was simply annoying that he made it a point to demand that of me and then never follow through. So I had mentioned this at one point to one of the shift managers (we'll call her "Alex"). She apparently took that to mean that I was upset with my hours and wanted more, and also took it upon herself to tell him this. And then tell me that she told him. Ugh.
Furthermore, I find out that he decided to bring this girl (who has been with the store for maybe 6 months) from another store to be trained as a shift manager. Hm. Which, again, is fine and dandy. After all, he had told me that if I were to be a shift manager, I would need to be 100% available for any and all shifts (anywhere from 5 am-10 pm). That's all a little difficult when you have 2 children under the age of 3 and a husband who works 5:30 am until 2 pm Monday through Friday (and sometimes Saturday and Sunday).
So back on to the conversation we had this past Saturday... He had come in to write some orders and I was working. Immediately when I saw him, I felt my blood pressure rise like I just wanted to go up and punch him in the face. But, of course, I knew better. Instead, I approached him calmly in the office and asked to talk to him. I told him that I didn't understand why Alex felt it was necessary to tell him that I was mad about hours when all I had said was that he never put me on other midshifts when he had made it a point that I needed to be open for them. Alright, fine, that went over well enough. "Yeah," he says, "I didn't really understand what she was saying. We had just talked about the scheduling not that long ago and so I figured if you had an issue, you would have just said something." Yes. Fact.
And I continue, "Look, I know that you're bringing in a girl from another store to train as a shift manager. And I get it. You need the open availability. Which I clearly cannot give you right now. But...and I don't want this to come off the wrong way, but if she comes here and the only "shift" shifts that she gets are--like--Wednesday mornings and closing shifts or weekends, I will be mad. Because I can do that." And that's where he starts going on about "well, you know, the DM and Director of Operations are the ones who would want to know that you have an open availability and I just can't..." blah blah blah. Pin it on someone else. He told me flat out that those are the shifts that this girl will get. And I know they are. Because he writes the same schedule every goddamn week.
It irks me. And I know it shouldn't. Because I hate my job. I have hated it since I started. I would absolutely be appalled with myself if in another 5 years I am still working at the same place.
So the morning after I had this conversation with him, I was looking on craigslist for a washing machine because ours broke. On a whim, I decided to check and see if anyone interesting was hiring. Just so happened that I came across an opening for an editor position for a small family magazine. Immediately, my doubts came rushing in: I don't have a 4-year degree, I haven't worked with InDesign in years, I have no "professional" experience as a writer, and I certainly don't have anyone that I still keep in contact with who could be a good reference. I tossed it around in my mind for nearly two days. But after a long, shitty day at work on Monday (and on the verge on going through my yearly depression-ridden, panic attack), I was on my way to bed around midnight and I thought If I don't do this now, I never will. I had this drive in me that said DO IT! APPLY! NOW!!
At 12:37 am I sent off the most non-traditional cover letter (along with my sad excuse for a resume) to apply for the position. I had considered it in the past: writing a non-traditional cover letter. My husband had talked me out of it. But this time, I was awake, by myself, with no one to hold me back. So I just laid it all out there. I explained all of the things that made me doubt applying (crappy "jobs," no professional experience, no references). I also explained, though, that I love to write. More than anything. And that I have been putting myself on the backburner for years and am finally ready, willing, able and passionate about finding something that I love. Well, and that the other thing that I really love (my family) is what I could be writing about! What more could they ask for??
I haven't heard back. Yet. But I have been praying on this. Which is a big deal for me. Because I don't pray. I have wishful thinking all the time. But I don't pray. (Maybe sometime down the road I'll get to that topic, but for now, just know I don't pray.) I daydreamed all day about getting the call from the President of the magazine and about how I'm going to tell Steve that I quit. I walked around work all day today with a smug smile on my face. And I even got to leave early!
And then it happened. I was doing my drawer and Steve says to me, "Oh, just something really quick--there was a mystery shop last week or something. And it was you and Jennifer working. Well, under the part where it asks, 'did the cashier say goodbye or have a nice day?' or whatever, they wrote that you and Jennifer were chatting, talking about the schedule." Now, I have no idea what the eff this could be. I never talk to Jennifer about anything that's bugging me at work because she's only been "helping out" for the past month or so. "You know," he says, "you guys were probably just chatting, but when it gets back to corporate that you were discussing the schedule, it looks pretty bad. Just be sure to keep that sort of talk to the office or break room."
Of course. Right after I had a talk with him about the schedule. And yeah, I've probably been bitching my ass off for weeks now to everyone and in front of everyone about how much I hate my job. Ha, my luck, somehow they'll see my blog--my blog that has been up for--what?--three days?--and fire me.
I'm not going to let it get me down. I'll keep "doing my work" just as well as ever. But that day is coming soon. I feel it. I've never wanted out so bad.
I really hope this year is my year.
So, I have this thing that some people like to call a job. And, while I am absolutely grateful for it (I realize there are many people who can't say that), I mostly hate it. It has its perks: benefits and whatnot. But I can't even begin to tell you how it feels to work at my job. I suppose, though, that must also have something to do with how it feels to simply be me.
I could absolutely never run for President. If I were to, people would be one hundred percent correct in calling me a flip-flopper. But it's not that I don't have morals or a set opinion on different issues; I actually have very high morals and many, many opinions. I just see things differently. I can see multiple sides to most issues. I can see the heart's and the brain's side of every story. And when it comes to work, it is no different.
I hate that I have been there for almost five years, but I'm glad to have had the stability through marriage, children, and homeownership. I love leaving for work some days, but by the end of the night, I'm wishing I were at home. I like my co-workers, but sometimes they drive me crazy. I can't stand getting new people, I want everything done a certain way, but I will not move into management. I refuse. That, and I've been denied. Not that I couldn't do it or wouldn't be able to handle it. "You just don't have the availability," my manager tells me. And this is the conversation that drove me back to writing. In the entire waste of 20 minutes with my manager, the one thing that didn't leave me brokenhearted and beaten up was this:
He tells me, "I mean, if you really have a passion for this company and see yourself moving into MT at some point, then yeah, the next logical step is being a shift manager. But if you don't see that, it's really not worth it. If you look at the pay increase--a couple bucks for a few hours each week, it's really not worth the hassle."
And I knew that. I've known that all along. I don't want to stay here. I wanted to quit after 6 months. I see the bullshit and drama that the shift managers deal with and I've never wanted to deal with that. Hell, I was on the verge of heartattack just having to bring up a touchy subject with my manager. Telling others what to do? Ha! I even thought about becoming a district manager at one point. I looked online at what they require when it comes to DMs. College degree in business or the like, at least a 3.0 GPA and the ability to get through the DM training program (which includes learning all of the other positions first, starting at the bottom of the totem pole). What did my DM tell me when I inquired about this?
Me: Hey, so I was thinking of finishing up my degree, I only have two years left, and I was thinking about Business Management and then trying to get into the DM program here. Do you think that would work to my benefit--you know, since I've already had experience with the company?
DM: Um, well, you're still full time, right? So how would you go back to school? Since you have to have open availability? I mean, unless you can find a school which operates between like 10 pm and 5 am.
Me: Yeah, well, I was going to look into an online program, so that I can work at my own pace more or less.
DM: Oh, yeah. Well, you know, they generally go to different colleges and look for students to do internships and whatnot from there. And also, they require at least a 3.0 GPA...is that...something that you have??
Me: Well, yeah...my GPA is at like 3.8.
DM: Oh! Well, yeah, I'd just say you'd have to be sure that you're still available to work any time.
And, after talking with a co-worker about this conversation, found that the company is against hiring current employees for corporate positions like this. Besides, I thought, I think being a douchebag is also part of the requirements. And I just don't have that in me.
So here I've been: doing the same monotonous job for nearly 5 years. And I'm stuck in this never-ending catch-22. Do I leave? And if I do, what can I do? I have an associate's degree, which is not exactly preferred among employers. Why hire someone with two years college instead of four? Or six or eight, for that matter. Besides, the jobs that could potentially hire me wouldn't pay as well and wouldn't have the flexibility or benefits that my current job does. Going back to school would cost an arm and a leg--and for what? I'd probably end up like half the college grads out there, deep in debt over a piece of paper and still no one looking to hire. But to stay? I've just literally sat for several minutes to try and come up with a way to describe how it feels going to work each day. It's difficult. Like I should be on Undercover Boss or something. As if one day, I'm just going to say "Surprise! I'm actually your boss!" But that day never comes. It's the opposite of that humbling feeling that those bosses feel after they've been in the other people's shoes. I know I am better than this job.
I swear I will get out. I have to. At least this is a step in the right direction.
