Sassy's Up Late Again

Oh, I'm pissed. My new job? Total disaster. It hasn't improved since my last entry, obviously. By Friday, I had still gotten absolutely no additional information about what was expected of me--hell, not even a confirmation of my freaking PAY RATE. Everyone passes the buck. Do I get vacation days? Labor Day is next week--are we working on Monday? Chef tells me yes, we're working on Monday. That means I can't work at my other job, which would give me Holiday Pay. Friday morning, I walk in, and the kitchen is empty, no food anywhere. I hear some banging toward the back, so I walk toward the noise. There's April, the morning manager. She informs me that it's Cleaning Day, because the kitchen is closed until Tuesday. Why don't I clean the ovens??!! The kitchen is closed til Tuesday?? When was anyone going to tell ME that? Fuck it. I start cleaning. I notice that the only people in the kitchen are all the senior people--none of the regular people who do basic setup, cleaning, etc. are there. The day wore on and it became clear--nobody was going to tell me the kitchen was closed on Monday, and nobody was going to be available to answer the questions I had about my pay and other HR policies. And just when I thought I'd reached the pinnacle of Really Crappy Moods, I realize that behind me, Chef Prick and the night manager are cooking. Yes, that's right--they're putting together a picnic for a group... making food. And the "manager" in charge of this shift is cleaning ovens while they do it. No one said a fucking word to ME about it. Now I'm BOILING mad. Every time I tried to put my things down and leave to go find the director to answer my questions, someone would dump another load of work on me. I finally skipped out a mere 4 minutes early, and caught him just before he left.

I was really nervous, because I was so pissed, I was afraid I'd either start crying, or just be completely incoherent. I lead with a neutral question: "Where am I supposed to be on Monday?" That simple question revealed all I needed to know. It seems that this company has many operations in the city north of us, and in one particular operation, their Executive Chef was about to be fired. But he's somebody's friend's brother's nephew or something, and the Powers That Be didn't want to fire him, even though he'd more than earned it, according to my director. So it was decided--by HIS boss, so it was completely out of HIS hands, you see--that this Problem Child should be transfered down to us. He got MY job. Oh, but don't worry, Sassy, because we'll still need you 2 or 3 days a week.

And worst of all, nobody had any intention of telling ME about it. The only reason I found out is because I asked. It certainly explains why I'd been treated like I was invisible. How completely fucked up is all that? I hate that place. I think when I quit, I'm just going to stop showing up. Fuck 'em.