Oh my

So I worked my very first shift at the new bar. It was very pleasant. No one was shouting (at least, not at me, or in anger - just some good-old-fashioned enthusiasm). The owner greeted me when I arrived, and then an hour later came behind the bar to remind me that this was a trial period. I tried not to panic.

I wonder if he told me that because - after watching me work for an hour - he was having some serious doubts about my abilities, and needed to remind me that THIS WAS NOT A PERMANENT SITUATION.

Duly noted.

The floor staff are lovely. So lovely and sweet and welcoming and only one person seemed really annoyed by my very presence, but you know, what are you going to do. Everyone can't like you all the time.

I was slow - much slower then my usual work pace. I was not at my best. I was clumsy and slow and confused and easily rattled. I didn't know where anything was, people were ordering things I wasn't familiar with, I wasn't sure what my responsibilities were, etc. etc. you know - the usual excuses for not blowing them away with my mad skillz. But excuses aside, I was a nervous wreck. I made a point of telling almost every customer that it was my first night, in case I screwed anything up. Plus, I didn't have a beer bottle opener, and that was a problem. I was trying to open beers with my wine key, until I actually broke the GLASS NECK of a Heineken. That was super.

So I had to keep tracking down the other bartender, and asking her if I could use her opener - which sort of defeated the point of having two bartenders, if one was unable to work without the other. This went on until about 3 hours into my shift, when the bartender who was training me (and constantly lending me her opener) pointed out the bottle opener mounted on the beer cooler. Aha. How convenient. I am an asshole. Clearly. That poor woman, what must she think of me?

The next time someone ordered a beer, I knew just what to do. I went right over to this handy-dandy opener on the outside of the beer cooler, and opened a beer.

Not only did the bottle cap come off - but the entire fucking opener came off the outside of the cooler.

I just don't know my own strength.

So I stood there, clutching an open beer with one hand, and trying to re-attach the opener with my other hand. I looked like an idiot. Several staff members were just standing their with their mouths hanging open, watching this SPECTACLE. I felt like a complete and total asshole. I really did. I know they were wondering what (or who) I did to get this gig. Because it was not on my own merits, that was for damn sure.

I think it was all just nerves. I hope it was all just nerves. Maybe it's just nerves. I was nervous.

And don't even get me started on the drinks. A "red-headed slut"? REALLY????? Did we need to go there?
Because I haven't had red hair in years, buddy.

Turns out, I wasn't so much unemployed as just taking a night off.

Oh calm down, of COURSE I didn't go back to work for that asshole my job. No no no, I sent out an APB and thank god someone was able to get me an interview and voila I am off to fill out new hire paperwork and I guess my first shift is, uh, tomorrow.

I really hope I don't fuck this up. Between the fact that I basically got the job as a favor, and the fact that I will technically only miss one night of work during the transition, this is just too good to be true. So I am frantically cribbing shot recipes and tasting beers (FOR WORK, not for FUN) and trying to bone up on my bartending skills (bwahahahaha I said "bone").

My point is this: I got another job. Thank God and Hallelujah. I have never been more relieved. Not only do I never have to go back to work for that awful, awful man who clearly hates me (and maybe most everyone else, I can't be sure) but I don't have to stress out about weeks of being unemployed and the slow season coming up, which would make this a difficult time of year to find a new job.

I'll be bartending, at night, in a bar where there is more of a party atmosphere. They are transitioning from a classic sports bar with huge TVs playing every game available and countless beers and shots and Jager on tap, to a more relaxed atmosphere. Less sports memorabilia, a vastly improved menu, and organic wines - I think I can do this.

Would you like a Jager Bomb? Perhaps a Buttery Nipple? No, not mine. What the hell is wrong with you?

Many thanks going out to my friends, who totally came through for me this weekend. Especially Trouble +1. Thanks, guys.

All the things I wish I had said

Tonight was my last night working at the restaurant.

It was a very abrupt ending to a job I really loved, with people I love, and customers I love. I can't really believe it's over, actually.

But oh baby, is it over.

It is important to note that this restaurant is awesome. The food is great. The staff is amazing. So if you know me "in real life" and know where I work, please do not let this color your view of the place. The staff deserve your continued patronage. That said, I am going to tell you exactly what happened.

Because I know you love details.

You're welcome.

Honestly, I am almost embarrassed to even say what happened. Almost. But not quite. Even though people will be quick to say I am over-reacting, I still refuse to be That Girl who takes it with a smile. My embarrassment is so fucking textbook that even THAT embarrasses me. I am embarrassed about being embarrassed. Good Lord. Let's say embarrassed one more time. There - now it doesn't even make sense as a word anymore. Moving on.

The reason I left is because my employer spoke to me in a way that was just not acceptable. It was, without getting overly dramatic, abusive. Yesterday, during my shift, the owner told me to "shut the fuck up".

He told me to shut the fuck up. HE told ME to shut the fuck up.

.........

I know, I didn't really know how to respond either. There is a lot of backstory, and restaurants are pretty raunchy places so it's not unusual for poeple to use the word "fuck" or yell at someone. And I am sure if asked, he would have many reasons/excuses/justifications for what he said, the first of which would be "Well, I said it because she needs to shut the fuck up. And if she doesn't like it she can get the fuck out."

Good Thinking.

In the end, what I decided was that none of his explanations mattered. It didn't matter if he was stressed (he is), or if I was being loud or out of line (I wasn't), or if he meant it to be funny (he didn't and it wasn't). It's just not okay to tell your employee to shut the fuck up, especially in the middle of your restaurant during business hours while people are eating.

You know, I think I can take that further. It is not okay to tell ANYONE to shut the fuck up in anger. There is joking, there is kidding around, there are people who swear like sailors all day every day (like myself). I am not afraid of the word fuck. At all. I am not afraid to tell someone to shut up, or indignant at being told to shut up. People tell me to shut up ALL THE FUCKING TIME - and I happily reciprocate. Sometimes I even take their advice.

This was not That. This was your classic verbally abusive guy using horrible words and his position as the signer of the paycheck to make others feel worthless and small. You may be reading this and rollling your eyes, and thinking "Man, he must be thrilled to get rid of THIS one" and I can understand why you might feel that way. But there is another side to this. This sort of behavior is habitual, and goes on all day long - it was just the first time it had been directed at me. This was someone in a position of power trying to intimidate and "discipline" me. Good luck with that, buddy. You and my mom can cry into your drinks (tea for her, beer for him) about how obstinate I am. (Oh, she could tell you stories. And show you the bills. That poor woman.) But you cannot argue with the fact that I am a good employee, and a good person. And I am finally going to walk the walk that is so easy to talk. I'm not just going to stand around complaining about him during my shift, or tsk tsking about how awful it was, and is. That sucks, and I hate it when people do that. It's better that I leave, and not spread the negativity in the workplace. He does that just fine on his own.

An abusive relationship does NOT need to be a romantic one. Just because our relationship was strictly professional doesn't mean it was healthy. Once you have been spoken to like that, it is really easy for it to happen again (which is where we get into textbook abuse scenarios). People can be assholes, and then people can cross the line into abuse. And until you acknowledge it, until you say it out loud, until you expose someone as abusive, the abuse continues, and spirals and grows and worsens and deepens and starts to affect every part of your life and you become ABUSED and then you feel shitty about yourself and everyone else involved and it's just.......it's just not good. It's not good, and it's not healthy, and dammit people know this goes on and just sort of roll their eyes and say "Well, what do you expect. That's how he is." But it's not how I am. I am not going to make excuses or look the other way or try to rationalize it. I'll take my tax return and spread the word that I am unemployed, and I will find another job and work my ass off. I am not going to be afraid to leave.

"I can just leave" I thought to myself as he walked away to greet more customers.


So, I left. My shift was over, I had transferred my tables, my paperwork was done, and I left without a peep. He probably thought to himself "Hah! That's right, just walk away, you hoity-toity bitch". But what he maybe didn't realize is that I am not walking back.

He'll be fine, he has a great staff and I am just one of many able employees. He is lucky to have such a good team, and he doesn't need me. I know that. He just hadn't made it quite so clear until Friday afternoon, when - in front of the candidate for mayor and his campaign manager, two families and the rest of the staff - he told me to shut the fuck up.

Not fucking likely, you douchebag.