Remember me mentioning that little job I took, school hours, to pay the Council Tax?
Oops. Lasted a long time that, eh.
I could very easily prove that I was pushed. If I don't find another income quick sharpish, I may have to, although I prefer not to be militant, but if you meekly volunteer that you 'just quit', in this country at least, it disqualifies you from all sorts of benefits and rebates, for a very long time.
I so want to regale you with tales of poor hygeine etc, but that would reflect badly on the company, when in fact it reflects only on what goes on amongst uneducated and uncaring staff when their backs are turned.
To the woman whose first worrying words after training me were "And if anyone says anything just say, 'oh I've always done it like that and nobody's complained'," who wanders around eating the stock all day and takes unsold stuff home in her bag on a Friday, to the woman who told me off (!) for washing grimy lettuce before using it in the sandwiches 'because it takes too much time', to the woman who has not increased the hot food by a single slice of pizza in the time I have been making the sandwiches (hot snacks always sell out - the proper dinners never do) and has burned, it seems at least one item every single day:
Madam, if your takings have gone up so much in those two weeks, do you think it might actually be because all the baguettes and sandwiches I make sell out? Because in the only sector where you have really increased the work involved, the quality has gone up? Because the salad is fresh and clean, the fillings reach the edge of the sandwiches and there is just enough margarine to stop dry fillings like cheese salad from falling on the floor?
Every day something gets burned, by her or another. She burns the bacon, charcoalled the baked beans to the pan, burns the baguettes, over steams the pasta. The other new assistant (a nice young thing who responds to every disaster by giggling) won't mind me saying that she also cocks up all the time (she says it herself), cooks the jacket potatoes too soon so they mush; drains them over washing up instead of a separate sink, dropped one in the greasy water last week but fished it out and sold it to a teacher, burned so many shortbread biscuits that they had to drizzle them with chocolate to shift the last ones.
So how come when the worst I have ever done is to scorch a pair of basic pizzas, and that in my first couple of weeks on the job; how come that woman has the f*cking audacity to tell me that the other newbie and I can switch roles again, but only if I promise not to burn any more food and reduce her profits? What the f*ck does she mean by 'more'?
Why is someone who will not accept her own shortcomings and instead gets her emotional knickers in a twist and turns on her own staff as scapegoats, in a position of authority? Am I the only person she has tried to tread on to make herself feel better, or just the first in this particular kitchen?
One of the proper managers dropped by today and we had to hide a whole tray of blackened and crisped bacon, that this uppity boss had burned. Thats about the fourth time.
And there she stood, after this guy had gone, at the front of the kitchen right by the hatches, with people still eating and in earshot just beyond them, and tore me off a strip, loudly, for things I hadn't even done, things that if I HAD done wouldn't begin to match the other disasters that go on on a daily basis. She suggested that if I switched jobs I would spoil her profit increase by burning everything. Cow.
So I handed her my hat. I told her if she wanted it that much, she could keep it.
Suddenly it all changed - she went from 'you can't do that' to following me into the changing room and glaring at me while I got changed out of uniform! She was stood there in the doorway, with school corridors a window away behind her, while I was in not much more than my pants. Then she hung on to the door and told me I wasn't leaving. I had to tell her I liked her to get her to let go. Believe me, she might be a decade younger than me, but she's beefy, and one of the first stories she proudly told us was about her being bound over to keep the peace for beating someone up. Not someone I am inclined to tell distasteful home truths, for sure.
The sad thing is that when she's not being vicious and bossy, she can be really nice. I can't believe that I am actually going to feel guilty tomorrow, knowing that she wont have any time to crack jokes with her crony or slope off for her usual extra fag breaks. I hate letting people down, even evil ones.
I say I was pushed - what do you think?