When did I get so serious? Not to mention so depressed, and so depressing... The more I read over that last post, the more I realize I am being torn apart by the conditions of my life. I used to be so happy. Anyway... I'm going to try and focus on the positive things in my life. I used to be so good at keeping myself happy. So, a list of things that make me happy, even here:
-The first sip of the first cup of hot coffee each day.
-Having sand in my shoes.
-Absolute silence on the Cape.
-The combined smells of my shampoo, conditioner, face wash, and body wash.
-Gorgeous fall foliage.
-Crawling into bed between freshly laundered sheets.
-8:16 AM, my favorite time of day.
-Bad, and I mean awful, jokes. Puns.
-Running in Brookline.
-Pirates.
-My hair.
-Cooking something new.
-Smiles from strangers.
-Watching clouds and stars through the skylight over my bed.
-Hearing my phone start playing John Mayer's "Daughters" - which means a family member is calling.
-The moment when I put on my tie and my black apron each day, and clip a Sharpie to the top of my apron.
-The smell of my freshly baked brownies.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Misery loves company.
The manager I was working with tonight at Chipotle let it slip that I get moody starting between 7 and 8 PM and stay that way for the rest of the night. He said all of the managers had noticed it (no one had said anything to me), and while I had also noticed I am more and more frustrated starting around then lasting through close, it is moderately embarrassing that everyone has noticed it, talked about it behind my back, and refused to say anything to my face.
7 or 8 PM:
-Everyone else on the floor has taken a break. I will be the last person to take a break, around 8:30 or 9. Meanwhile, if I stand still for any period of time, or try to take a quick 5-minute break, someone starts yelling at me to ring up a transaction, check the lobby, collect baskets, watch the line for them, etc. And they wonder why those of us who are trained on cash hate being the shift cashier...
-The dinner rush has just ended, or will be ending soon. I'm sick of people telling me "no" when I ask for sides of salsa or guac, and I'm cataloging in my mind how many times I or the line screwed up on customer service. I'm also just sick of seeing people and doing the exact same thing hundreds of times.
-By this time, most times I'm working at Chipotle, I've been awake since around 4 AM, and I have worked around 12 hours so far that day.
-I'm starting to think about the rest of the night, which means anticipating having to clean bathrooms (my least favorite thing ever), and cleaning up the lobby after the dinner rush, so running around sweeping, wiping tables, cleaning baskets, filling ice, stocking the drink station, and ringing up every customer.
-I'm also starting to think about going home, which includes crying throughout the 20-minute drive home as I remember that I won't see my family for months and am, for the most part, very alone here. It also means I start calculating how much sleep I will get, which is usually 4-5 hours, maximum.
So yeah... not that those are excuses... I am usually a nice person. But there are valid reasons for my apparent bitchy-ness. More importantly, the fact that this is showing, when I'm a naturally happy person, means more than just me being bitchy sometimes. It means I am really that miserable. It has been six months since I saw my father and sister, and eight months since I saw my mother - and that time was only for an hour. My dog is dying, and I am not there to spend time with her as her energy fades. I hate the taxes I pay in this state, and I hate knowing that they will probably go up. I hate knowing that as hard as I work, I earn very little money. I am frustrated by the knowledge that I work my tail off - often on little or no food, because I can't afford more - and it doesn't seem to make a difference or garner much respect from anyone. When did hard work lose its value? I hate how mean people are here and the fact that everyone seems to think that's okay. I hate that I can't afford some important things, like body work, new brake pads, and new tires for my car. I am sick more often than not. I don't have many friends; the ones I do have don't have much time for me. I am finding less and less willpower to go into work and give great service for eight hours when I know there will be at least one or two people who will flip out on me over something, whether it's the wait time on a drink, the quality of brewed coffee, or the length of the line.
Seriously, how do you people live like this? How are all of you so miserable all of the time, and why are you so anxious to spread it around? How many times do you have to shove me down to make yourself feel better?
What is more frustrating than anything else is that the whole reason I'm still here is that I believe the managers in my Starbucks district are more devoted to my development than any managers for whom I have worked. And yet... because I work 70 hours a week, I can't take advantage of this opportunity like I could if I just had one job. But if I just had one job, I couldn't pay bills in order to stay here and take advantage of the opportunity. Getting to the point where I will be promoted to the next level while I work 70 hours a week seems like some Sisyphean task God put in front of me to make me want to kill myself. I've been working 70 hours a week for three months, and I can't imagine continuing like this for nine more months while I watch myself utterly fail at trying to be a good, well-developed Starbucks manager. With recognition being rare and the wages I get paid, I have never felt so worthless in my life.
I'm not sure how or why I keep going. I just do.
7 or 8 PM:
-Everyone else on the floor has taken a break. I will be the last person to take a break, around 8:30 or 9. Meanwhile, if I stand still for any period of time, or try to take a quick 5-minute break, someone starts yelling at me to ring up a transaction, check the lobby, collect baskets, watch the line for them, etc. And they wonder why those of us who are trained on cash hate being the shift cashier...
-The dinner rush has just ended, or will be ending soon. I'm sick of people telling me "no" when I ask for sides of salsa or guac, and I'm cataloging in my mind how many times I or the line screwed up on customer service. I'm also just sick of seeing people and doing the exact same thing hundreds of times.
-By this time, most times I'm working at Chipotle, I've been awake since around 4 AM, and I have worked around 12 hours so far that day.
-I'm starting to think about the rest of the night, which means anticipating having to clean bathrooms (my least favorite thing ever), and cleaning up the lobby after the dinner rush, so running around sweeping, wiping tables, cleaning baskets, filling ice, stocking the drink station, and ringing up every customer.
-I'm also starting to think about going home, which includes crying throughout the 20-minute drive home as I remember that I won't see my family for months and am, for the most part, very alone here. It also means I start calculating how much sleep I will get, which is usually 4-5 hours, maximum.
So yeah... not that those are excuses... I am usually a nice person. But there are valid reasons for my apparent bitchy-ness. More importantly, the fact that this is showing, when I'm a naturally happy person, means more than just me being bitchy sometimes. It means I am really that miserable. It has been six months since I saw my father and sister, and eight months since I saw my mother - and that time was only for an hour. My dog is dying, and I am not there to spend time with her as her energy fades. I hate the taxes I pay in this state, and I hate knowing that they will probably go up. I hate knowing that as hard as I work, I earn very little money. I am frustrated by the knowledge that I work my tail off - often on little or no food, because I can't afford more - and it doesn't seem to make a difference or garner much respect from anyone. When did hard work lose its value? I hate how mean people are here and the fact that everyone seems to think that's okay. I hate that I can't afford some important things, like body work, new brake pads, and new tires for my car. I am sick more often than not. I don't have many friends; the ones I do have don't have much time for me. I am finding less and less willpower to go into work and give great service for eight hours when I know there will be at least one or two people who will flip out on me over something, whether it's the wait time on a drink, the quality of brewed coffee, or the length of the line.
Seriously, how do you people live like this? How are all of you so miserable all of the time, and why are you so anxious to spread it around? How many times do you have to shove me down to make yourself feel better?
What is more frustrating than anything else is that the whole reason I'm still here is that I believe the managers in my Starbucks district are more devoted to my development than any managers for whom I have worked. And yet... because I work 70 hours a week, I can't take advantage of this opportunity like I could if I just had one job. But if I just had one job, I couldn't pay bills in order to stay here and take advantage of the opportunity. Getting to the point where I will be promoted to the next level while I work 70 hours a week seems like some Sisyphean task God put in front of me to make me want to kill myself. I've been working 70 hours a week for three months, and I can't imagine continuing like this for nine more months while I watch myself utterly fail at trying to be a good, well-developed Starbucks manager. With recognition being rare and the wages I get paid, I have never felt so worthless in my life.
I'm not sure how or why I keep going. I just do.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Back in black!
I am proud to announce that as of Wednesday, October 15, 2008, I have a Coffee Master's black apron that I am now permitted to wear, as I have been deemed a Coffee Master by my regional director. Actually, to be exact, I own HER black apron. She was impressed with my coffee tasting, and after I asked why it was so hard to get a black apron, she gave me hers. Someone who has been with the company for fourteen years was that impressed.
If I had known she was going to sit in on that tasting, I would have had time to work up some nervousness. But... I didn't know... so I just said and did what came naturally to me... and she loved it.
My next challenge shall be... blind coffee tastings. Which coffee is which? Can I tell the differences between coffees of two different regions without knowing which is which? Can I tell the differences between coffees of the same region without knowing which is which? I know I can lead a coffee tasting and rock it with my coffee knowledge. Now, let's see how well I really know those coffees.
Wearing that apron for the first time this morning was very exciting. The thought of it actually got me out of bed on time. I was so excited about it last night that I had a hard time sleeping. Like a little kid on Christmas Eve.
I'm telling you... this is the start of something big.
If I had known she was going to sit in on that tasting, I would have had time to work up some nervousness. But... I didn't know... so I just said and did what came naturally to me... and she loved it.
My next challenge shall be... blind coffee tastings. Which coffee is which? Can I tell the differences between coffees of two different regions without knowing which is which? Can I tell the differences between coffees of the same region without knowing which is which? I know I can lead a coffee tasting and rock it with my coffee knowledge. Now, let's see how well I really know those coffees.
Wearing that apron for the first time this morning was very exciting. The thought of it actually got me out of bed on time. I was so excited about it last night that I had a hard time sleeping. Like a little kid on Christmas Eve.
I'm telling you... this is the start of something big.
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