Jumping on the Bitter Train

Today was Audrey’s last day at the coffeeshop. When the owner came in this morning she didn’t say a word to Audrey. Apparently she’s been chided by several regulars for her lack of consideration for employee benefits. I think it’s funny, but rather than commend any of us on a job well done, or for winning the hearts of coffee-drinkers, she just finds more things to pick at us about.

When she left the store, the owner sent a message to Sarah – the manager – to say “If my employees can’t follow directions, then they don’t have to work here.” I guess there was a line and only one brewer going. She likes us have two at the same time, but bitches about waste all the time.

When I came in for my shift, it was pretty clear Matt was riding the bitter train. Hard. And I can’t say I’m not jumping on board. Everyone is completely burnt out and tired of it. Tomorrow I have to open with two people who don’t know how to work the bar. Which means, even with my repetitive stress injury or carpal tunnel or whatever the hell it is, I’ll be on the espresso bar for six hours. It’s an effing joke.

I’m supposed to be happy that the trainer and my manager both talked about me in the managers’ meeting yesterday and brought up how I was overdue for a raise, and how the owner’s husband said what a great job I’d done during our hysterical rush Saturday. Actually, what he said was, “That one girl? I can never remember her name.”

Jesus Christ. After three years the guy doesn’t know my friggin’ name?

And it doesn’t help that, after the raise issue was addressed. the owner said “Talk to me about it later,” and left the meeting.

After my shift in the morning I have some more health screening stuff to do on campus and then I see my counselor at one. I guess I’ll just have to start a more aggressive job search after that. And on Thursday. And Friday after work.


3 thoughts on “Jumping on the Bitter Train

  1. I hope you find what you need soon. It’s obvious that you all working at the shop are just “that girl” or “that guy” which is such a shame. The owners don’t know what they are doing.

    They could be sitting on a goldmine, if only they’d adjust their attitude.

  2. Move to Dublin. They need baristas who know what they’re doing here. Fuck up my cafe latte, will ya?! Damn micks…

  3. If after three years the owner can’t deign himself to remember your name, I’d say it’s time to move on and let them ponder their mistake. What an ass.

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