Bitching
Work. It really isn't the way I like spending my time. I much prefer to wile away the hours with whatever occupies my attention at any particular moment. Or spend it with friends. Or just cherish being on a schedule that I dictate. Make my own paths. But today, when I got home, I realized how nice it is to be able to put a few dollar bills into my wallet and know that I don't necessarily have to make it last. Because there will be more tomorrow. Like a strange, perverted fountain of plenty that I have to constantly pump. And I guess it's not really a fountain of plenty; but more like a fountain of adequacy.
My moods are so much better when I'm not at work. So much more stable. Little things don't set me off on a new bitching streak. I don't sit around with a sneer on my face and say "I can't wait to get out of here" and "This place can kiss my ass". And a smorgasbord of other fun things everyone who ever worked for a corporation knows.
We have people there that are new, and I feel bad for them, partially because they have no idea what they are in for, but also because they have such great attitudes. Which of course makes me feel like even more of a bitch. And often, when things don't go well for me, I tend to act like a spoiled brat. I can't help it. I just expect to get out what I put into something. And in the restaurant biz, it almost never happens. Overstaffing. Not being busy. Tourists. Discounts. Blah blah blah blah blah. It's always the same.
And so is my bitching. Recently it has hit a fever pitch, however, as the place has slid into what I consider irrevocable disorganization through a series of poor managers and ridiculous micro-management. Come on, how many people does it really take to order wine glasses? Or uniforms?
This place is clearly beneath me. I am too smart, too efficient, too creative, too autonomous, too fiesty, too talented, and obviously too amazingly amazing to work in this place. Which is why I have to leave. Which is why I will be leaving. Which is why I feel I can bitch at my leisure.
Because I have no reason to care anymore. But then again, they took away all my reasons to care a long time ago.
My moods are so much better when I'm not at work. So much more stable. Little things don't set me off on a new bitching streak. I don't sit around with a sneer on my face and say "I can't wait to get out of here" and "This place can kiss my ass". And a smorgasbord of other fun things everyone who ever worked for a corporation knows.
We have people there that are new, and I feel bad for them, partially because they have no idea what they are in for, but also because they have such great attitudes. Which of course makes me feel like even more of a bitch. And often, when things don't go well for me, I tend to act like a spoiled brat. I can't help it. I just expect to get out what I put into something. And in the restaurant biz, it almost never happens. Overstaffing. Not being busy. Tourists. Discounts. Blah blah blah blah blah. It's always the same.
And so is my bitching. Recently it has hit a fever pitch, however, as the place has slid into what I consider irrevocable disorganization through a series of poor managers and ridiculous micro-management. Come on, how many people does it really take to order wine glasses? Or uniforms?
This place is clearly beneath me. I am too smart, too efficient, too creative, too autonomous, too fiesty, too talented, and obviously too amazingly amazing to work in this place. Which is why I have to leave. Which is why I will be leaving. Which is why I feel I can bitch at my leisure.
Because I have no reason to care anymore. But then again, they took away all my reasons to care a long time ago.
posted by Ocean | 11:44 PM
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