restaurant life: my breaking point

When you work in the service industry, every day can be a challenge.

Now that I have started a new job at the cutest little mom and pop place, Chip and Jo's Restaurant, it is becoming clear each day how much I have been taken advantage of by my last employer. One of the most frustrating challenges I faced was working with a ladder of management and paperwork. I completed tons of computer training and learned the finer tasks of restaurant management. Jonathan and I started coming in to open the store each day, because the shift manager at the time ("Rita") was slowly slipping, coming in later and calling out frequently. 

Fast forward one year. The store has changed general managers three times, with the most recent one quitting after eight days in charge. There is no assistant manager, no general manager, and only two shift managers. Jonathan and I have been opening the store five days a week. Rita has become incredibly lazy and unreliable, arriving up to an hour late most of the time. Despite being qualified, trained, and already doing the job, Jonathan and I have still not been promoted to shift managers. It has also just come to my attention that I am not even being paid as a cook in the morning, only as a server, to do the manager's job. The restaurant is a mess, with no one in charge and no accountability, we are doing all we can to get through each day. 

Last Monday I finally reached my breaking point. The day began with a bus full of elderly folks, followed by a busy lunch rush, which continued into the afternoon. On most days around two o'clock the restaurant is quiet and empty, I am cleaning and re-stocking and just recovering. Well, not that day. At two o'clock there are a dozen tables ordering off the menu, the store is a mess, I haven't had an opportunity to refill the salad bar, clean the buffet, or take an aspirin for the splitting headache I have been fighting all day. 

If any one happens to read this that knew me from Pizza Hut, thank you.

I had the most amazing customers, and I truly wish I had gotten to tell them goodbye.

This lady was not one of them. 

As I begin to take the middle aged couple's order I am asked (understandably),

      "Umm, are you going to fill up the salad bar?"

I smile and tell her that I will just as soon as I get a chance.

To which she responds,

     "Well, what does that mean?"

I apologize, explain that we are busy and I am the only one out here. She looks around the dining room and smirks, then tells me that they need to hire some one else because I obviously can't handle it. The most frustrating part is that Rita is in the back, talking on her cell phone, being completely unhelpful, and has been all day.

Deep breaths. Very deep breaths. 

I stop everything I am doing, and fill up the fifteen items on the salad bar. 

While I'm in the back, I see the woman talking to Rita. I know it is about me. 

I let her know that it is there, and tell her to let me know if I missed anything.

By the time I have finished and check on all of my other tables, I am crying.

It has just been such a long day, and now this woman is being hateful.

The next thing I know the unhappy woman is standing at the register and I know why.

     "Do you want to talk to the manager about me?"

She smiles, hatefully.

     "Oh no, I'm going to corporate with you."

That's when I threw up my hands. I have been doing the manager's job for year. I get paid $2.13 an hour. I have been walked over by this corporation, again and again. Now I am going to have to answer to a district manager about this woman's complaint, and he will not care about the other 70 customers today who said I was great. Who said that I was amazing, running this place by myself. Asking if I am the manager. 

     "I fucking quit."

Yes, I said the f word. And I said it a lot. There was a ceramic mug of coffee on the counter in front of me and without thought it was in my hand, and I threw it at the ground by her feet. I had a tantrum fit for a three year old. I was screaming, throwing things off the counter, tears rolling down my face. I yelled out how much of a joke it was, how pathetic the manager is, and how I was handling everything just fine until she was rude. It was the blaze of glory every server dreams of going out in. And it felt great.

Unfortunately the great feeling didn't last long. Soon I was outside in the car, screaming at the top of my lungs, crying my eyes out, scratching at my forearms, stomach retching, hands shaking. The panic attacks took over and I just laid there shaking. What have I done?

That night was difficult. 

The stress of making ends meet and paying the bills was too much to think about. 

My sister, Amy, told me that this was a new beginning. That she was proud of me. 

     "You were at a job where they didn't appreciate you 

      and treated you like shit 

      and you had the balls to say enough! 

      I'm way more proud of you than I would have been 

      if you stayed there and kept taking it."

On Tuesday I borrowed my sister's car and put in several applications. The fourth place I went- I was hired on the spot. The very next day I was called in to start, which meant that I only missed one day of work all week. My new job is great, I am the only server, the hours are perfect, and I feel appreciated. 

I hope that if anyone read all of this, if you are stuck in a desperate situation like I was, there is another option. Every job has it's bad days, but every day shouldn't be bad. There is a job out there where you will be appreciated. Where you won't feel your soul being stomped out, crushed, walked over. You just have to get out there and find it. I hope you do.

Until next time,

Angela Kelly