What a curious, queer day.
Nov. 12th, 2004 10:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ysobelleNo, not that manner of queer. The Lewis Carroll kind.
I spend most of my mornings driving to work knowing I'm going to be late, and fuming about how pissed off I am. Not pissed that I'm going to be late, but about how I'm so grossly underappreciated at my job that I could sell a half dozen diamond necklaces, three dozen pairs of semi-precious earrings, a cartload of amber, fourteen art glass vases, the prehistoric bear claw, and my BOSS, and I'd get a vague, "Yeah, that's nice. Michelle, come on. I'm hungry!" I'm still part-time. I still have no benefits. I ain't got jack-- except a fifteen-cent raise. I've been leaning on all my temp agencies. I've been plotting my escape and revenge. I've been one seriously disgruntled employee.
So this morning, after I stagger in eleven minutes late, to yet another chorus of idle good mornings from everyone but my boss, I didn't think much about it when she called me over to one of the cases she was working on. Rather, I didn't think anything promising. So what she said to me took a few minutes to sink in.
"So after this week, you're gonna be full time. You're gonna have to do five days a week."
I raised an eyebrow. "Uh...okay. So...health?"
"Yeah. You'll be full-time. I called the home office. We're gonna see about a raise."
By now I'm looking for the camera. "Benefits?"
"Yeah, yeah. You'll be full-time. We'll get your benefits."
Yeah. Um. What?
Later that afternoon, she told the accountant I wanted in on the 401k, too. I mean, what?
Not that I'm complaining. I'm not. She still seems to have trouble looking me in the eye, and she can't tell me how much, exactly, I'll be getting in my raise. But I let her know it'd better be something, cos I've been plotting my escape route, and I absolutely know she's utterly desperate for help, as we're short-staffed already.
She tried to tell me how thinly-stretched the company is, and how Robert-- the owner-- is having to cut back, and the company isn't up for the year, etc. I just blinked. Last time there was a manager's meeting for our eleven or so stores, it was held at Robert's house down in Maryland. My boss came back with a copy of the local House Beautiful, which featured a multi-page spread on his digs, including the $50,000 bathroom he'd so gleefully showed everyone. The one with the full-function Japanese bidet toilet. You know the one.
So she starts this poor-us spiel with me, and I just cut her off. (This after her asking me why, if my parents were so hysterical about my not having health insurance, didn't they pay for it themselves? "Because they're paying my rent," I shot back.) I cut her off mid-whine.
"Lauren, Robert just bought a toilet that cleans his ass, while I'm having trouble buying toilet paper to wipe my ass."
Crude, yes, but succinct. Know your audience. I also pointed out to her that while she's got little gold-star notes up about how much our top seller last month brought in, I'm getting three-fifths the hours, and wound up $500 behind her. I was top seller the three preceeding months, and I didn't get so much as a cookie. I'm not asking for a brass band, I just want a little affirmation outside of my own head.
By the end of the day, there was no answer yet on the raise thing. We're opening a new store this weekend, so the general manager's a little hard to get a hold of. I've also gotten a general idea that my health insurance will run me about $200 a month. So this is by no means a done deal, and I'm still keeping my options open. That said, I spent the balance of the day much lighter on my feet.
And then, whilst browsing the Borders Express in our little mall, I found a brand-new harback from Tad Williams. And me with a 20% coupon in my hand.
As I said, it was a curious day.
I spend most of my mornings driving to work knowing I'm going to be late, and fuming about how pissed off I am. Not pissed that I'm going to be late, but about how I'm so grossly underappreciated at my job that I could sell a half dozen diamond necklaces, three dozen pairs of semi-precious earrings, a cartload of amber, fourteen art glass vases, the prehistoric bear claw, and my BOSS, and I'd get a vague, "Yeah, that's nice. Michelle, come on. I'm hungry!" I'm still part-time. I still have no benefits. I ain't got jack-- except a fifteen-cent raise. I've been leaning on all my temp agencies. I've been plotting my escape and revenge. I've been one seriously disgruntled employee.
So this morning, after I stagger in eleven minutes late, to yet another chorus of idle good mornings from everyone but my boss, I didn't think much about it when she called me over to one of the cases she was working on. Rather, I didn't think anything promising. So what she said to me took a few minutes to sink in.
"So after this week, you're gonna be full time. You're gonna have to do five days a week."
I raised an eyebrow. "Uh...okay. So...health?"
"Yeah. You'll be full-time. I called the home office. We're gonna see about a raise."
By now I'm looking for the camera. "Benefits?"
"Yeah, yeah. You'll be full-time. We'll get your benefits."
Yeah. Um. What?
Later that afternoon, she told the accountant I wanted in on the 401k, too. I mean, what?
Not that I'm complaining. I'm not. She still seems to have trouble looking me in the eye, and she can't tell me how much, exactly, I'll be getting in my raise. But I let her know it'd better be something, cos I've been plotting my escape route, and I absolutely know she's utterly desperate for help, as we're short-staffed already.
She tried to tell me how thinly-stretched the company is, and how Robert-- the owner-- is having to cut back, and the company isn't up for the year, etc. I just blinked. Last time there was a manager's meeting for our eleven or so stores, it was held at Robert's house down in Maryland. My boss came back with a copy of the local House Beautiful, which featured a multi-page spread on his digs, including the $50,000 bathroom he'd so gleefully showed everyone. The one with the full-function Japanese bidet toilet. You know the one.
So she starts this poor-us spiel with me, and I just cut her off. (This after her asking me why, if my parents were so hysterical about my not having health insurance, didn't they pay for it themselves? "Because they're paying my rent," I shot back.) I cut her off mid-whine.
"Lauren, Robert just bought a toilet that cleans his ass, while I'm having trouble buying toilet paper to wipe my ass."
Crude, yes, but succinct. Know your audience. I also pointed out to her that while she's got little gold-star notes up about how much our top seller last month brought in, I'm getting three-fifths the hours, and wound up $500 behind her. I was top seller the three preceeding months, and I didn't get so much as a cookie. I'm not asking for a brass band, I just want a little affirmation outside of my own head.
By the end of the day, there was no answer yet on the raise thing. We're opening a new store this weekend, so the general manager's a little hard to get a hold of. I've also gotten a general idea that my health insurance will run me about $200 a month. So this is by no means a done deal, and I'm still keeping my options open. That said, I spent the balance of the day much lighter on my feet.
And then, whilst browsing the Borders Express in our little mall, I found a brand-new harback from Tad Williams. And me with a 20% coupon in my hand.
As I said, it was a curious day.
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no subject
Date: 2004-11-13 04:22 am (UTC)Congrats, you! Don't forget: even if you take it, it's still not written in stone, and you can still escape later if you feel the need!
no subject
Date: 2004-11-13 01:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-11-15 06:54 am (UTC)It's Shadowmarch-- the one that he was doing online for a while. High fantasy again. Elves and all. So far: yum!
no subject
Date: 2004-11-15 03:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-11-16 05:13 am (UTC)