I Just Work Here
August 25, 2009
I have short-timer's syndrome like you wouldn't believe. Less than a week from now I will BE IN ALASKA!
I am completely out of patience with work; all of the little niggling irritations seem to reach their most unbearable pitch right before I leave. The important thing right now is to suppress that insidious urge to tell everyone exactly what I think. And that is not something I am saying to be funny, it is a serious problem. It's a classy company, and I've been working for these people for a full year now. For most of that time I've enjoyed myself immensely, bringing my particular skills to the table whenever possible and steadily pushing the learning curve along so that I wouldn't get bored too quickly, and I can immodestly say that I've done excellent work for them. There is a darn fine reference to be had there.
But I can also say quite baldly that on a purely personal level the manager doesn't like me. This makes me uncomfortable because there was never anything that I ever seemed able to do about it. She's a brusque woman against whom a goodly portion of the staff nurse some resentment. She is very good at saying the correct thing, but a terrible judge of the relationships between her employees. She knows perfectly well that I am a very good worker and she has gone through all of the appropriate motions of commending me for it. But for whatever reason we never hit it off, and having a conversation with her is like trying to parse Japanese. The words are all there, but it just doesn't function as communication. I suspect, too, that there are some chain-of-command tensions between us, because I started in chocolate and then moved to the kitchen, and since on an official level she manages the café I don't feel that I was ever quite accountable to her. I work for the chocolate company, not for the manager. Gian and Jaime were happy to let me run my own show; the manager had a harder time accepting my outside-the-system attitude. I think she'll be glad to see the back of me. I spend too much time rocking the boat.
So I am trying simply to stay out of her way, or not to speak to her at all. I don't have anything to gain from pissing her off, not even the double-edged satisfaction of taking the boss down a notch, because even though she isn't the greatest manager I've ever worked with, neither is she the worst, because she is highly responsible about her business. I just can't seem to damp down completely the flaring urge to burn all my bridges before I leave. It's a very bad habit.
I also harbor a bit of a grudge against the company in general for 1) the whole oven license fiasco, and 2) not paying me more, because I have genuinely tried to prove myself worth their investment. Talk about above and beyond the call of duty; my presence has literally rewritten the job description for pastry. Suddenly the bakeshop position isn't just a throwaway for some derelict who is inappropriate for exposure to the public. I've carved pumpkins and dressed window displays. I've arranged flowers and drawn chalkboards for both Cambridge and Walpole. I've worked in every part of the store and assumed responsibility for all of the aspects of pastry previously dependent on a supervisor, like inventory and ordering. I made-over the pastry bible for the next generation, and I'm currently training my replacement (the latter was not something I volunteered for). It's hard to find complete satisfaction in the knowledge of a job well done when I know that other bakeries in town start their employees at $13/hr. Come oooooon, I just want to feel important! I won't go as far as to say that I wouldn't leave if I had a higher wage or a real salary. (I mean, it's Alaska!.) But I'd probably be more inclined to stay. For that matter, anyone would be more inclined to stay, and then maybe they wouldn't find themselves hiring new kitchen staff every six months.
Live and learn. I've certainly learned a lot at the chocolate factory, one way or another. It's been a fun job, a decent job. I ate embarrassing and wonderful quantities of chocolate. I'm just very very ready to leave, and try something new.
I am completely out of patience with work; all of the little niggling irritations seem to reach their most unbearable pitch right before I leave. The important thing right now is to suppress that insidious urge to tell everyone exactly what I think. And that is not something I am saying to be funny, it is a serious problem. It's a classy company, and I've been working for these people for a full year now. For most of that time I've enjoyed myself immensely, bringing my particular skills to the table whenever possible and steadily pushing the learning curve along so that I wouldn't get bored too quickly, and I can immodestly say that I've done excellent work for them. There is a darn fine reference to be had there.
But I can also say quite baldly that on a purely personal level the manager doesn't like me. This makes me uncomfortable because there was never anything that I ever seemed able to do about it. She's a brusque woman against whom a goodly portion of the staff nurse some resentment. She is very good at saying the correct thing, but a terrible judge of the relationships between her employees. She knows perfectly well that I am a very good worker and she has gone through all of the appropriate motions of commending me for it. But for whatever reason we never hit it off, and having a conversation with her is like trying to parse Japanese. The words are all there, but it just doesn't function as communication. I suspect, too, that there are some chain-of-command tensions between us, because I started in chocolate and then moved to the kitchen, and since on an official level she manages the café I don't feel that I was ever quite accountable to her. I work for the chocolate company, not for the manager. Gian and Jaime were happy to let me run my own show; the manager had a harder time accepting my outside-the-system attitude. I think she'll be glad to see the back of me. I spend too much time rocking the boat.
So I am trying simply to stay out of her way, or not to speak to her at all. I don't have anything to gain from pissing her off, not even the double-edged satisfaction of taking the boss down a notch, because even though she isn't the greatest manager I've ever worked with, neither is she the worst, because she is highly responsible about her business. I just can't seem to damp down completely the flaring urge to burn all my bridges before I leave. It's a very bad habit.
I also harbor a bit of a grudge against the company in general for 1) the whole oven license fiasco, and 2) not paying me more, because I have genuinely tried to prove myself worth their investment. Talk about above and beyond the call of duty; my presence has literally rewritten the job description for pastry. Suddenly the bakeshop position isn't just a throwaway for some derelict who is inappropriate for exposure to the public. I've carved pumpkins and dressed window displays. I've arranged flowers and drawn chalkboards for both Cambridge and Walpole. I've worked in every part of the store and assumed responsibility for all of the aspects of pastry previously dependent on a supervisor, like inventory and ordering. I made-over the pastry bible for the next generation, and I'm currently training my replacement (the latter was not something I volunteered for). It's hard to find complete satisfaction in the knowledge of a job well done when I know that other bakeries in town start their employees at $13/hr. Come oooooon, I just want to feel important! I won't go as far as to say that I wouldn't leave if I had a higher wage or a real salary. (I mean, it's Alaska!.) But I'd probably be more inclined to stay. For that matter, anyone would be more inclined to stay, and then maybe they wouldn't find themselves hiring new kitchen staff every six months.
Live and learn. I've certainly learned a lot at the chocolate factory, one way or another. It's been a fun job, a decent job. I ate embarrassing and wonderful quantities of chocolate. I'm just very very ready to leave, and try something new.
