nope, not another reference to the wacky doctor in that technicolor spectacle. tonight there will be no frolicking in puddleby or erotic exploring of the insides of that giant pink snail.
rather, i mean the aggregate output of most restaurant managers. i'm not quite sure how many of them get there. it's certainly not part of that "when i grow up i wanna be..." essay, now is it? but i suppose when most of them fall in, they stick around (or bounce around) because other than grueling hours and mediocre pay, they coast. it seems for most, spending all those hours at work is little hardship since they have such arid outside lives. (no digression here on the husbands hiding from their families.)
i could count on one hand how many dynamoes i've worked with in my career. positive, upbeat guys always on the move, always anticipating, aware of everything -- even stuff they don't see. eyes in the back of their heads? but they make everybody kick it up and feel energized.
i would need an army's worth of digits to tally the drunks, the gamblers, the cokeheads, those in questionable liaisons with staff, the vanishers and the comically inept. we had one we called the "void monkey," since that seemed all he could do. oh, and drink coca-cola by the gallon. (did they not have it in his native hungary?)
the vast majority are just lazy. recently i had two projects that needed cooperation from various managers to succeed. my itinerant schedule means i can't cheerlead in 2 places at the same time. they blatantly ignored both my pleas and printed invites and refused to pump their staffs. the events failed to attract attendees -- because nobody knew about them. in a meeting today, i was informed that unless a dictum came down from j.s.j.**, "do this or fucking else," nothing would happen. essentially they will do it in the future to avoid an ass-reaming, and that's the model they have created and feed in this company. ooh, nellie, don't want independent thought or enterprise! or ambition! ahhhhhh, noooooooooooooooo!!
today i had alot of work. alot. yet, every time i went for a glass of water or to stretch my legs, i saw the m.o.d. (yeah, ok, the guy is nice, but an idiot) sitting at the bar watching a soccer match. i understood it was a very important game, however, could have thought of 10 other things that needed tending. and what kind of example does that set? i have never seen him bus a table, take an order or work one minute past his scheduled time. however to jsj, he's a warm body on the floor who can cash out the servers and doesn't make trouble.
my disinclination to jog set aside, i am not a slothful worker. i feel proprietary in my places of employ and like a challenge. however, the ton of bricks has fallen for the last time. i do not kiss ass well. i do not draw overt attention to my achievements. i do not throw other people under the bus or back-stab to save face. i don't believe negative reinforcement and creating a culture of fear makes for a good work environment. i hate being micro-managed and distrusted for no reason other than jsj's paranoia and bad faith in people.
i want a life outside my work.
in an effort to cut costs, one of the gm's has forbidden his staff to drink soda. it's out of a gun and costs pennies. they can have coffee, but no milk or sugar. fucking prison is more generous with the bevs.
i need out.
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to prevent confusion, the business owner will now be referred to by his initials (not the actual, but i'll use an inside joke for them) and the owner will heretofore be called "the owner". he's not *my* owner, since i don't *have* him, but that's not for this footnote, and perhaps it's time for this blog to begin a slightly different path of exploration.
see blog title.
previously i've written about the little brown people with whom i share the late-night train ride back to my neighborhood. mostly men, all redolent with the smell of cooking and cleaning.
