Today’s assignment: Tell me about a time you quit.
I’ve been at work for nearly twenty four hours. I had just enough time between my closing bar shift and my continental breakfast shift to go home and shower. And once I finished this shift I have enough time to run home and shower again before making it back for another closing shift. By the end of tonight’s shift, I will have worked 32 hours in two days. I’m exhausted. But I’ll make it.
I could hear R talking to the front desk clerks upstairs. He must have just gotten here. I was here when he left to go home last night, and I’m here when he got back today–only taking a thirty minute break in between. He’ll see nothing wrong with that. R is my supervisor. And he’s an ass. I know this already.
My eyes feel heavy, and I’m actually a little nauseous from not eating. I don’t know if that happens to other people, but it happens to me–more so since I started this job. For someone who works where they serve food I haven’t eaten much at all since starting here. I’ve been too busy for food.
As R descends the stairs his critiquing starts.
Are you going to move those tables back?
Are you going to pull the vacuum back out and get those spots?
Are you going to wipe down those booths?
My blood starts to boil, and I’m trying so hard to keep my cool. I smile politely and assure him that everything will get done. I check my watch. I have exactly 45 minutes before my next shift starts, and I’m not even done with the shift I’m working now. what the heck?
I take a glance around the disgusting old bar and tell myself that it’s clean enough for now. The rest will have to get finished when I get back to open the upstairs bar. Right now, I’m desperate for a shower and a bite to eat. I poke my head into the kitchen. R is no where to be found, so I catch the eye of one of my kitchen buddies. I mouth shower and pointed to myself. He nodded.
As I walked outside the bright morning sun stung my tired eyes. I dig in my purse for my keys and reach my car. Just as I turn the ignition and pull the car into gear, I see R running out. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but I can tell he is yelling by his arm gestures. I throw my car back into park and open my window. Before I can ask him what is wrong, he screams.
You better get your lazy ass back downstairs and finish cleaning! He disappears into the building before I can respond. Shocked, I think lazy? LAZY? I throw my car into reverse and back into the spot I just left. I am seeing red.
I walk into the building and the front desk clerks give me a knowing and apologetic look. Though it should have made me feel better, it only made me angrier. Once downstairs, I grab the broom and start sweeping the floor I already swept. At first I had every intention to finish the ridiculous job and simply change before my shift. But the more I thought about it, the more upset I got. Before I could stop myself, I burst through the kitchen doors. R turns and looks me in the eyes with a look of pure death. Before he could open his mouth to yell more I hand him the broom.
I don’t deserve this. I have been here for nearly an entire day working my tail off for you and this is how you treat me? Forget it. I’m done. You can work my shift tonight.
I turn with a smug smile and exit gracefully through the kitchen doors. Once they swing closed I race up the stairs and out of the building.
Then the tears start…