What I did this summer, part II: Work


The Bar is making money, we are very busy and a big stream of new faces has turned into a solid base of regulars that love us, love me, love the Bar, it’s booze and food. A new take on music has the weekends pumping and the energy never dies.

Bob and Q run the show quite well, and I am proud of them, but Peach………

Peach……

Peach makes me want to rip my hair out sometimes.

I just want respect.

To not have my intelligence insulted.

To not be treated like a thief, a liar or a dumbass.

To be trusted as a professional with a good job, great experience, instinct, people skills, multi-tasking abilities and who is really trying to be a great food-runner.

WIth the understanding that if I fuck up the consequences will be earthshattering.

And if for some reason I throw my integrity away and steal, or suck at my job, or be stupid, or be known as deceitful and dramatic, I lose my job.

I feel like she has to prove she’s the top dog in this pile, when really, she’s the G.M. She IS the top dog, I don’t understand why she feels like she has anything to prove since she does such a good job already. It’s the way she interfaces with us that drives me up a wall, I understand why she does it, I don’t understand why she acts the way she does.

I have taken to dreading the weekends we worked together, until I realized the Serenity Prayer applies exactly to this situation. Every day I pray for kindness, respect, mercy and grace for her, and seek to treat her well, not talk bad behind her back, and remember that she’s human just like us.

Even when she devolves into pettiness, a way of throwing others under the bus to prove a point, the passive aggressiveness and backstabbing, that way she nods as if to say “aaah, riiiigggght…….*eye roll* ….liar”. The way her powertrips sacrifice customer’s wellbeing and staff’s well treatment to prove some menial point. One nightmarish weekend I realized when she had found out her boyfriend of years had a drunken makeout session with some girl she can’t stand, she took it out on us…..not trying to help me as I took over the biggest cocktail section that weeded me out for hours, not helping me, not supporting or encouraging me, but shredding me for every…….little……thing. I heard her mention to someone else a few days later “I just found out before I came to work, and I was so upset, I was close to tears all night long. It was impossible to focus on anything but that news”.

Bitch. Cry about it with us in the office, smoke a cigarette, do a shot of bourbon and pull it together for Friday night service. Don’t you dare hurt us and make it sound like you’re an angelic saint.

One thing that night showed me her priorities: When she greeted a customer for me and laid down a bev nap and a menu, and chit-chatted, actually a regular I brought from my summer shifts at the Pub, I zoomed by him with a stack of plates and smiled at him in recognition, dropped off my dirty dishes in the buss tub and asked her what he was drinking.

“I think a Newcastle…..wait a minute, why didn’t you acknowledge him?”

“Well, you had just talked to him, he was greeted”

“No, you need to ACKNOWLEDGE EVERY CUSTOMER!”

“OK, well, did you bring him his beer….?”

“No, you know, maybe he didn’t want a Newcastle, you can go back and ask him what he wanted yourself!”

Forget the customers. Forget the business. Forget your people, your staff, your way of running things. This is the sound of a manager tripping you to then criticize you for having two left feet. Or, better, cutting her nose off to spite her face….Sabotage. IN that minute I saw her true colors.

Fortunately Q in her infinite peace and wisdom indicated to Bob, who agrees with her (apparently we’re just seeing the tip of the iceberg, she’s failing in her duties across the board) that we are close to a full-scale staff revolt for the same reasons.

Knowing this makes me happy….at least we are heard and can hope for new leadership, being that she is rapidly devolving into some highly offensive ways of doing business that are pissing a lot of people off.

Blargh.

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About Malachi the Drink Slinger

Finally transferring to that four year school in January, my goals made, my life set, the blinders dropped, my past signed and sealed, my future bright and airy, a writer, a thinker, a feeler, someone who is enthralled by beauty, an artist worth slightly more than two shits, a lover, a fighter, a person on the way to become the person I have always wanted to be....

2 comments

  1. I’m glad you’re back, and I’m glad the summer didn’t fuck with you too much!

  2. Sounds like she has low self esteem and needs constant praise and attention. The art of diplomacy is saying, “Nice doggie” while you quietly look around for a rock.

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