Re: Six F bombs

From: Rita Pressley-LeDoux (ritaritasenorita@yahoo.com)

To: Maura (mauraswimgrrrl@yahoo.com)

Date: Thursday, July 17, 2008 8:37 AM
Subject: Re: Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck


Well, first of all, as Margo told my brother one evening, if you need a jump that bad, go play checkers

Mauramodel, not to make light of your pain and angst about work, but really, that has to be one of the best subject lines I've ever received. And yet it WASN'T FLAGGED!!!! Congratulations! If six f-bombs don't get stopped by Da Yahoo Copz, what WILL??? THat's MY question.

Anyway, sorry to make fun... I know you like working there except for dealing with her ditzballiness. It's like I said about Frank all the time: Dingdong might own the place, and she might take care of and CONTROL certain things, manage certain things (stock, menu, etc) but that doesn't mean she knows how to MANAGE PEOPLE, which is a big difference. But I don't get the whole "keeping you and Todd apart." This isn't ROMEO AND JULIET, Maura. Do you really think that's what's going on? Unless... someone else at the resto has her ear and has given her the idea that you two need to be kept apart... unless for reasons of her own that maybe have nothing at all to do with running a professional establishment (that sounds like a euphemism for a whorehouse ) she wants to keep you away from Todd.

As for the giving you a hard time about the one thing you missed when you closed while overlooking all the things you got done, yeah, that's the sign of a bad manager. (Along with being so far behind on the books after a busy season that you have thirty days worth of guest checks and credit card receipts sitting in your office waiting to be reconciled) Not mentioning to employees when they do something RIGHT but only mentioning the stuff they MISS. That used to piss me off when I closed at Frank's too. Always the next day, I could count on his fat greasy goombah face sputtering "You know, you guys gotta stop rushing outta here at night... you left the lights on over the bar." THAT was what made me wanna strangle him. It was never something big like, say, "The back door wasn't locked" or "The alarm wasn't armed" or "THere was cash missing from the till" etc etc etc. No... it was always NITPICKY LITTLE SHIT like "You didn't empty the trash in the bathroom... you didn't turn the dishwasher off... you forgot to put the recycling out." WELL, WHY DON'T YOU JUST STAY LATE AT "YOUR" RESTAURANT AND PUT THE REFUCKINGCYCLING OUT YOURSELF???!!!!!!????!!!!

And what got me most was, that could have very easily have been negated by him if he'd just NOTICED WHEN I DID GOOD WORK. Like said "Great job handling that rush, Rita" or "Good work getting that bar order out there" or "Thanks for checking the towels in the rest room" or "Thanks for bussing that bus pan when we got busy out there" or something dumb like that. Noticing things that I DID WITHOUT HIM ASKING ME, that I really didn't NEED to do, that weren't my JOB but I did them because there I was, someone had to do them, etc etc. Instead of telling me the freakin' takeout containers needed restocked. Please.

It's that whole thing that really just makes you feel like "OK, this job obviously means more to ME than I mean to THEM, so now what?" You know? So I really didn't feel all that bad when I left. You didn't know me back then but I barely gave my two weeks. I don't ever just walk out of jobs but it was all I could to not just walk out of that one. And it wasn't any one thing; it was all those little things that you describe that just day after day, week after week, added up, till I didn't care that I was taking home a hunnerd fiddy bucks a night in tips.

And so I quit that job, and I moved to Bawlmore with Tony, and we lived happily ever after, and here I sit, it's not even 8:30 and Dannydan has puked already.

Some kinda bug. He's snoozing away. Margo said she had a touch of something earlier this week and I felt a little gnarly myself yesterday. Wonder if something's going around.

Big heat wave coming and I'm not gonna make it worse for the fella by turning the air off, that's for sure. Nope, it's frosty cold in here. I don't know what it's like outside and I don't CARE. I'm in here. Bwah hahahahahaha...

No work at the warehouse this week. I work an afternoon game on Sunday, then Monday and Wednesday. And I'm working at the cafe tomorrow midday. That should be fun.

I mean that.

See because the cafe is managed the way Frank's and Dingdong's (MAYBE THEY SHOULD OPEN A PLACE TOGETHER!!!!) should have been managed. Or maybe it's just that I'm not there full time and I don't see all the bullshit. I'm not there relying on the hours I get to support myself and my family. I just come in on Friday mornings, maybe a Tuesday or Wednesday morning, and when I show up I'm usually covering for someone who can't make it, so I'm like the cavalry riding over the hills. I'm greeted as a hero. And then, just as the place is starting to get to me and I'm thinking "OK, if I have to whip up ONE MORE frappin' frappe, I think that I may EXPLODE here," guess what? MY SHIFT IS OVER! and I can go home to a puking baby!

ANyhoo... I'm sorry you have to put up with that right now. You talked about finding something else. Are you keeping your eyes opened?

Tony's up. He slept in. I can hear him moving around. Wonder if he has a touch of it.

I'm gonna hit SEND and will call you later. Not working today, you know...

Later sweetie!
Love
Senorita

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