- First, my shifts had been cut down from five to four. I was annoyed, but voiced no complaint because in the beginning we were training two new cooks, John was the one doing the training, so I had figured my shifts were cut to give the new guys more practice. I was still earning a good amount, so I let it be. The next couple of weeks after (one trainee had left, the other stayed) my shifts stayed at four. I voiced a complaint several times, but no changes were made. After a while, I gave up.
- Then, at some point, I was put on all evening shifts. The sole reason being that I 'couldn't handle all the dishes'. Because on the rare occasion that the boss does come in to the shop, we had had a huge rush, and I could barely get a spare second to do the dishes. Because being the only person in the kitchen, dish washing also falls to me. Apparently, the other two cooks are Superman and Boy-Wonder and can get all the dishes done in the middle of a lunch rush.
- After a little while, I had been given back a few day shifts. All was well. Til the boss made a rare visit again, and we had another lunch rush and fell behind in dishes again. Que being put back to evening shifts. I was a little pissed at that.
- Last week, I had let work know that I would be gone for four days this week with my parents(friday, saturday, sunday and the following monday). Admittedly, yes, it was short notice, but my dad kept hmming and hawing about when we were leaving and coming back, til I hounded him enough to make him decide. Work was not happy with me about that, but I didn't care; I wasn't happy with them about being put back to evening shift, so it's only fair. I work three days this week, which is understandable. Well, I really made them unhappy; I saw my schedule for next week. They had given John six shifts and cut me down to three.
The funny thing is, I have no idea what I'm doing wrong. I work fast, I always clean up after myself, I make sure to leave notes for the other cook if there's something I can't do or finish by the end of my shift. Whenever they wanted me to come in early, I came in. Whenever someone wanted to switch shifts, I would switch shifts. Whenever they needed someone to cover a shift, I would cover it. Not once did I complain about it.
The problem? No one tells me what I'm doing wrong or what I should improve on, until its too little too late. The newer cook, Vince, apparently had complaints that my prep wasn't enough and that I did not leave note on the status of the back up. I did not find this out until John told me of the complaint last week. The boss also had a few complaints about me that I did not know about until John told me last week. I was severely pissed. Why doesn't anyone tell me this themselves when they see me? I was told 'because they don't know how to talk to you'. Don't know how to talk to me?! I fail to see how difficult it is to tell me something; I try to make myself open and friendly. Is it the way I act? Is it because I speak so quietly? I really don't know. When I had seen my schedule, I nearly flew into a rage. I hyperventilated in the bathroom, and then barged out into the back by the dumpsters and went in to a crying fit talking to mother in a desperate attempt to see if she knew any places I could send in a CV to. The rest of the night I swung between pure anger and being depressed. I left a note for the boss to call me so I can find out what the hell is going on.
Communication at work is severely lacking at work. The only way to contact the boss is by phone, leaving a note in her office, or talking to her when she makes her rare visits to the shop. She doesn't talk to me as much as she does the other two. I didn't know we were getting a new menu until two days ago when a waitress mentioned to me that she couldn't wait to try stuff on the new menu when we get it. I'm the last to know. As usual. The cooks don't have meetings unless the boss wants us to, because the boss wants to be there when we are, so being the last to find out is kind of the norm for me.
Suffice to say, when I got home last night, I wrote down all the names I could think of of potential places to send a CV and directions to each. I've had enough. If I can't be told things on time, and then get shit for not knowing or having it done, then there is no longer any place for me there. It's high time I get the hell out of Dodge and go somewhere else. But, until I can secure another job, it'll be a while before I can actually blow this popsicle stand.
