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.
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