I've held several jobs where I was in a position of authority, but it's been a long time. I miss it. Being in charge was great because I love problem-solving challenges and having the latitude to fix stuff that went wrong. I thrive on planning, organizing and working alone, and I find that people in charge get more opportunities to do those things. Managing other people was only satisfying to the extent that it helped me accomplish my goals. I wasn't a power tripper. I generally aimed to be helpful and fair to those who called me "boss".
Actually, the "being the boss of other people" part of leadership was the area where I struggled most. I'd get really stressed out when I sensed that employees disliked me or thought I was doing a bad job. I'm (unfortunately) extremely perceptive of other people's disapproval. Last time I was a manager, the palpable disdain I felt from employees and colleagues was so overwhelming I would go home and cry every day for two straight weeks until I decided to quit. Honestly, I wasn't great at that job, but it was also a remarkably hostile environment. Even if I'd had a passion and talent for the work itself, I wouldn't have lasted long. But I was so freaked out by that experience and my withering under pressure, I have not pursued a management position since then. That was over five years ago.
For most of the time between then and now, I figured my problem was that I was too concerned with being popular. I always thought it would be easier to be a guy boss because I wouldn't care so much if my employees liked me or not. But now I'm thinking lady bosses automatically have it harder because we are more apt to be disliked. I've seen the way many of my past and present coworkers have treated their female superiors: the eye rolls, the second-guessing, the extra snarky behind-the-back commentary. It comes from both men and women, I'm sad to say. And while their criticism is sometimes deserved (many bosses, male and female, are incompetent, abusive, and/or lazy), it seems disproportionately directed at women in charge. That bugs me, but at least now I'm able to recognize it as an epidemic.
So, I've decided I'm not going to let those old fears prevent me from pursuing any desirable leadership positions in the future. I can't say that employee sexism won't drive me crazy, that it won't make me angry. It just isn't a strong enough deterrent to keep me from doing work I enjoy. Maybe I've reached a place where I'm just less afraid of being angry.
And all those feelings are the reason why this is one of my favorite scenes from anything ever. This occurs after Liz overhears an employee call her a "cunt". After spending a couple days proving that she can be nice, every staff member leaves work early, and she pulls an all-nighter to pick up their slack. In the midst of her toil, she finds inspiration in a 3:30 am rerun of "Designing Women".
Showing posts with label jobs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label jobs. Show all posts
Thursday, February 7, 2013
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Verdancy and Verve
On my last day at my worst job ever, my boss said something to me that I cannot forget. I was alone in the first floor kitchen of the elder women's bridge club, brewing pots of coffee for the early morning card players, oil painters, and other ladies of leisure who frequented this members-only establishment. Richard* wandered in and was surprised to see me doing someone else's task. "Isn't Sherry supposed to be setting up the coffee cart?" She, my psychobitch tormentor, had decided to get one last dig at me by showing up for her shift two hours late. But I'd stopped caring weeks ago, and was just as happy to work without her. "Oh, she's running a little late today."
Richard considered this for a moment, then launched into a description of that morning's hellish commute. This included an unnecessary racial description of the guy who cut him off on the freeway. I responded with the requisite number of "hmm"s as I silently counted the hours to my final release.
He was quiet for a moment as I arranged linens and cups. "Well, Tara, I'm really sorry that this wasn't the sort of work that felt right for you. I think you've done a great job." Though he'd been my boss for just five weeks (he replaced the woman who hired me), we'd hit it off pretty well. Being a barrel-chested, crew cut-sporting Marine, he was such an oddball for the position that I couldn't help enjoying his presence in this labyrinth of chintz and china. More importantly, he liked to tell corny puns and I liked to laugh. All other workplace problems aside, I don't know how long I could have played "dodge the racist commentary", but our brief stint together was amicable. I was grateful for his praise.
But it was what he said next that struck me. "You've got a lot of energy and you'd do well at just about anything. I'd be happy to give you a recommendation any time. You just let me know."
"A lot of energy." It stuck out because I'd never thought of myself that way before. But he was right. I must have had a lot of energy to work long days on my feet and keep my sense of humor, especially in a place where I felt like most of my colleagues hated me.
Overall, work has been a far better experience since those days at the bridge club. My priorities are different. I'd rather have an hourly wage job than be miserable making a salary. I look for good bosses and minimal drama. I have to be excited about whatever it is that I'm "selling", whether it's great food or a fun experience. But mostly, I have to be doing something that feeds off of and replenishes my precious energy. Draining is not allowed! After all, I don't want to end up like this again ~
My cousin J recently posted this on Facebook. Despite its hideousness, I love it as a historic document. The clenched hands and that grey and miserable expression say so much about my twenty-year-old self. I don't know if I looked that way all the time (I hope not!) but I don't think anyone would have described me as energetic back then.
Many issues burdened me at that time, and work was the least of those. But when you don't feel good about yourself, it's easy to get into exhausting and unpleasant situations in the company of exhausting and unpleasant people. I have more self-respect these days, which means that I'm more self-preserving. The unexpected bonus is that - surprise! - I do have a great deal of energy.
Fast forward to my first trimester of pregnancy... I admit that I'm a complete and utter baby when it comes to nausea. I know no one likes feeling queasy, but I'm pretty bad at just dealing with it. I also love to eat, so disliking food was a heartbreaker, too. But the fatigue was the most frustrating part of it. Doing my grocery store demo job (which requires standing in one spot for hours, and handling food) was just awful, so I quit.
The bummer was that I liked my job and I was good at it. My boss said he might have shifts for me later, when I was feeling better. But in the midst of that funk it was really hard to imagine myself wanting to go back to that sort of work. Everyone told me that the second trimester is usually much better, but I'd never experienced these things before. Would I be one of those women who feels like shit all the way through the pregnancy?
Fast forward to a few weeks ago... Our tax return bump was petering out. We needed more money. But I was feeling restless, too. Since age 16, I've never been out of work for more than a couple months at a time. Even the idea of being a stay-at-home mom (pure fantasy) wasn't appealing to me anymore. With a baby due in October, I wondered if someone would hire me. I scoured the local job postings, looking for anything that might fit my abilities. But I knew that excitement factor was key. I need to be interested in the business that's hiring and I'm just not interested in dentists' offices or real estate companies. As far as my enthusiasm and skills were concerned, the grocery store was definitely the best game in town. Might they take me back? It was worth a shot.
I sent my old boss a gracious email, explaining that my second trimester had nearly arrived, I was feeling much better and I would be happy to work any shift that might be available. To my enormous satisfaction, he quickly responded that he'd never found a suitable replacement for me and that I was welcome to return.
The only thing more surprising than the enthusiastic homecoming I received from my old coworkers (so many people I hardly were thrilled to see me) was how much I loved standing in one spot, cooking cod fillets and chatting with customers for hours at a time. Now that I've regained my energy, I realize that it needs a structured outlet. I know I have an unusual attitude about the job market; for being pretty clever, I'm not terribly ambitious. But the fact is, I like working and once I'm there, I work hard. Staying at home with a kid is one thing, and I have no idea how much I'll want that until the kid is here. But staying at home with no kid is frankly depressing. I simply don't have enough projects or hobbies to consume this verve.
On my first day off after returning to work, we met our friends J and L in Sewanee, a gorgeous little college town about 45 minutes west of here. The four of us hiked a rocky trail full of waterfalls, skipping stones, lacy foliage and occasional views of a stunning, pastoral valley. I was pleased not only with my renewed vigor, but that all these months of working out had clearly improved my balance. My footing was sure, even as I climbed a giant rock toward the end of the trail. I asked J to take a picture and I laughed maniacally for comic effect. But it turned out looking exactly how I feel these days ~
The third trimester will make July and August quite challenging, but I feel awfully lucky to experience the second one in the Spring.
*As always, all names are changed (in the case of weirdos) or abbreviated (in the case of friends).
Richard considered this for a moment, then launched into a description of that morning's hellish commute. This included an unnecessary racial description of the guy who cut him off on the freeway. I responded with the requisite number of "hmm"s as I silently counted the hours to my final release.
He was quiet for a moment as I arranged linens and cups. "Well, Tara, I'm really sorry that this wasn't the sort of work that felt right for you. I think you've done a great job." Though he'd been my boss for just five weeks (he replaced the woman who hired me), we'd hit it off pretty well. Being a barrel-chested, crew cut-sporting Marine, he was such an oddball for the position that I couldn't help enjoying his presence in this labyrinth of chintz and china. More importantly, he liked to tell corny puns and I liked to laugh. All other workplace problems aside, I don't know how long I could have played "dodge the racist commentary", but our brief stint together was amicable. I was grateful for his praise.
But it was what he said next that struck me. "You've got a lot of energy and you'd do well at just about anything. I'd be happy to give you a recommendation any time. You just let me know."
"A lot of energy." It stuck out because I'd never thought of myself that way before. But he was right. I must have had a lot of energy to work long days on my feet and keep my sense of humor, especially in a place where I felt like most of my colleagues hated me.
Overall, work has been a far better experience since those days at the bridge club. My priorities are different. I'd rather have an hourly wage job than be miserable making a salary. I look for good bosses and minimal drama. I have to be excited about whatever it is that I'm "selling", whether it's great food or a fun experience. But mostly, I have to be doing something that feeds off of and replenishes my precious energy. Draining is not allowed! After all, I don't want to end up like this again ~
My cousin J recently posted this on Facebook. Despite its hideousness, I love it as a historic document. The clenched hands and that grey and miserable expression say so much about my twenty-year-old self. I don't know if I looked that way all the time (I hope not!) but I don't think anyone would have described me as energetic back then.
Many issues burdened me at that time, and work was the least of those. But when you don't feel good about yourself, it's easy to get into exhausting and unpleasant situations in the company of exhausting and unpleasant people. I have more self-respect these days, which means that I'm more self-preserving. The unexpected bonus is that - surprise! - I do have a great deal of energy.
Fast forward to my first trimester of pregnancy... I admit that I'm a complete and utter baby when it comes to nausea. I know no one likes feeling queasy, but I'm pretty bad at just dealing with it. I also love to eat, so disliking food was a heartbreaker, too. But the fatigue was the most frustrating part of it. Doing my grocery store demo job (which requires standing in one spot for hours, and handling food) was just awful, so I quit.
The bummer was that I liked my job and I was good at it. My boss said he might have shifts for me later, when I was feeling better. But in the midst of that funk it was really hard to imagine myself wanting to go back to that sort of work. Everyone told me that the second trimester is usually much better, but I'd never experienced these things before. Would I be one of those women who feels like shit all the way through the pregnancy?
Fast forward to a few weeks ago... Our tax return bump was petering out. We needed more money. But I was feeling restless, too. Since age 16, I've never been out of work for more than a couple months at a time. Even the idea of being a stay-at-home mom (pure fantasy) wasn't appealing to me anymore. With a baby due in October, I wondered if someone would hire me. I scoured the local job postings, looking for anything that might fit my abilities. But I knew that excitement factor was key. I need to be interested in the business that's hiring and I'm just not interested in dentists' offices or real estate companies. As far as my enthusiasm and skills were concerned, the grocery store was definitely the best game in town. Might they take me back? It was worth a shot.
I sent my old boss a gracious email, explaining that my second trimester had nearly arrived, I was feeling much better and I would be happy to work any shift that might be available. To my enormous satisfaction, he quickly responded that he'd never found a suitable replacement for me and that I was welcome to return.
The only thing more surprising than the enthusiastic homecoming I received from my old coworkers (so many people I hardly were thrilled to see me) was how much I loved standing in one spot, cooking cod fillets and chatting with customers for hours at a time. Now that I've regained my energy, I realize that it needs a structured outlet. I know I have an unusual attitude about the job market; for being pretty clever, I'm not terribly ambitious. But the fact is, I like working and once I'm there, I work hard. Staying at home with a kid is one thing, and I have no idea how much I'll want that until the kid is here. But staying at home with no kid is frankly depressing. I simply don't have enough projects or hobbies to consume this verve.
On my first day off after returning to work, we met our friends J and L in Sewanee, a gorgeous little college town about 45 minutes west of here. The four of us hiked a rocky trail full of waterfalls, skipping stones, lacy foliage and occasional views of a stunning, pastoral valley. I was pleased not only with my renewed vigor, but that all these months of working out had clearly improved my balance. My footing was sure, even as I climbed a giant rock toward the end of the trail. I asked J to take a picture and I laughed maniacally for comic effect. But it turned out looking exactly how I feel these days ~
The third trimester will make July and August quite challenging, but I feel awfully lucky to experience the second one in the Spring.
*As always, all names are changed (in the case of weirdos) or abbreviated (in the case of friends).
Thursday, January 13, 2011
The "F" Word
I'm not sure exactly when the enjoyment of food became a competitive sport, but I'm way past wanting to be a contender. Working at Foodie Deluxe in Ann Arbor was oddly reminiscent of my 1998 trip to Ireland - just as that humbling experience taught me that I'm not really Irish (I'm American), this more recent experience taught me that I cannot call myself a "foodie" (I'm just a person who likes eating - there are literally billions of us). Of course, I also refrain from describing myself with the "f" word because it's terrible and I don't like the flavor of my own vomit. But even if I were to choose a slightly less obnoxious word like "connoisseur", I would still feel like a fraud because I know too many people who have far more sophisticated knowledge, taste and skill when it comes to making and eating food.
Nevertheless, I do love cooking and feasting. When I left my job in Ann Arbor and moved to Chattanooga, I was looking forward to embracing my new kitchen (with its restaurant-style stainless steel counters) in a more modest and less food-obsessed town. I've been having fun, especially now that I have some cool new toys, like my crock pot and immersion blender. But I didn't anticipate that my relationship with food would be so different from what it was when I lived and worked in Michigan.
The biggest food-related change came with my new fitness regimen. Now that I workout more than I ever have in my life (I actually run miles!.. without stopping!.. of my own volition!), I worry less about restricting this or that type of food. The only dietary advice that my trainer T gave me was this - get three servings of fruit and three servings of vegetables every day. This albeit simple rule is actually the goddamned revolution. For one thing, it's brilliant to give food advice in the form of a "do" instead of a "don't" - "don't" just isn't that motivating in the long term. I follow this "do" slavishly and I inevitably eat more healthfully. The only way I can make the 3/3 diet work is by snacking on bananas and raw carrots, which means I'm not often snacking on potato chips and cheesy things. I definitely have more energy, I'm less reliant on caffeine and I don't crave greasy food as much.
That being said, I have learned that my addiction to dairy fat cannot be denied. If I go a couple days without cheese or sour cream or half and half in my coffee, I get really crabby and start wondering why this miserable world has to be populated with so many IDIOTIC JERKS. I'm not my best self without lactose.
This new food routine is fine, but figuring out how to get three fruits, three vegetables and a little dairy fat in my body every day takes a lot of concentration. That means I have less energy for planning elaborate entrees or trying new recipes, which brings me to the second biggest change in my relationship with food. I'm no longer as interested in cooking. This is why I love my crock pot. With minimal prep, I make a big ass heap of food that I can turn into several meals. Overnight grits become breakfast, then grits casserole, then grits muffins, etc. It isn't a very sexy approach to culinary arts, but it is efficient.
I think the other major difference in the way I approach food concerns my favorite pastime, going out to eat. Chattanooga is not prime for this activity, though not for lack of fancy restaurants. This town has plenty of places where you can buy an expensive steak, but there isn't much variety when you examine the spectrum of choices. I couldn't have anticipated how much I would miss metro Detroit's sundry culinary options (a reflection of its mixed population), including Mexican, Middle Eastern, Greek, Indian, Polish, Chinese, Thai; I'm confident that you can find excellent versions of each one of these cuisines in the D. Chattanooga, unsurprisingly, is more culturally homogeneous. I thought this town would boast some great barbecue, but I've had trouble finding places that really smoke the hell out of some meat. I haven't yet found that "native" cuisine that's special to this place, and I'm beginning to wonder if it exists. I keep going to the same few dependable restaurants but longing for more adventure.
Yet, within footsteps of my home, I can purchase fresh-roasted coffee, handmade sausage and artisan bread. This winter, Dan and I purchased an 18-week lettuce CSA and now we get to eat fresh greens every day. These small local farms and businesses are where you find the best flavors in Chattanooga. I'm glad that so many of these vendors are represented in our city's restaurants, but for the sake of thrift and control, I prefer to eliminate the middle man and just deal with these businesses directly. Living here, I just don't have as much motivation to go out to eat.
Despite my waning interest in living a food-focused life, it turns out that I'm really good at selling the stuff. My only goal at work is to get people to put whatever item I'm pushing in their basket and I'm a little shocked at how often they do. We aim for a 400% increase in sales of that item. Two weeks ago, I was demoing an obscure salami that I was sure no one would buy; we saw a 1500% lift in its sales. I'd call it a fluke, but my coworkers are always shocked when I run out of whatever I'm sampling. I must admit that I find this success very satisfying. I'm excited about this new facet in my ever-changing relationship with food. Food and I may not be best friends anymore, but we make great business partners.
Nevertheless, I do love cooking and feasting. When I left my job in Ann Arbor and moved to Chattanooga, I was looking forward to embracing my new kitchen (with its restaurant-style stainless steel counters) in a more modest and less food-obsessed town. I've been having fun, especially now that I have some cool new toys, like my crock pot and immersion blender. But I didn't anticipate that my relationship with food would be so different from what it was when I lived and worked in Michigan.
The biggest food-related change came with my new fitness regimen. Now that I workout more than I ever have in my life (I actually run miles!.. without stopping!.. of my own volition!), I worry less about restricting this or that type of food. The only dietary advice that my trainer T gave me was this - get three servings of fruit and three servings of vegetables every day. This albeit simple rule is actually the goddamned revolution. For one thing, it's brilliant to give food advice in the form of a "do" instead of a "don't" - "don't" just isn't that motivating in the long term. I follow this "do" slavishly and I inevitably eat more healthfully. The only way I can make the 3/3 diet work is by snacking on bananas and raw carrots, which means I'm not often snacking on potato chips and cheesy things. I definitely have more energy, I'm less reliant on caffeine and I don't crave greasy food as much.
That being said, I have learned that my addiction to dairy fat cannot be denied. If I go a couple days without cheese or sour cream or half and half in my coffee, I get really crabby and start wondering why this miserable world has to be populated with so many IDIOTIC JERKS. I'm not my best self without lactose.
This new food routine is fine, but figuring out how to get three fruits, three vegetables and a little dairy fat in my body every day takes a lot of concentration. That means I have less energy for planning elaborate entrees or trying new recipes, which brings me to the second biggest change in my relationship with food. I'm no longer as interested in cooking. This is why I love my crock pot. With minimal prep, I make a big ass heap of food that I can turn into several meals. Overnight grits become breakfast, then grits casserole, then grits muffins, etc. It isn't a very sexy approach to culinary arts, but it is efficient.
I think the other major difference in the way I approach food concerns my favorite pastime, going out to eat. Chattanooga is not prime for this activity, though not for lack of fancy restaurants. This town has plenty of places where you can buy an expensive steak, but there isn't much variety when you examine the spectrum of choices. I couldn't have anticipated how much I would miss metro Detroit's sundry culinary options (a reflection of its mixed population), including Mexican, Middle Eastern, Greek, Indian, Polish, Chinese, Thai; I'm confident that you can find excellent versions of each one of these cuisines in the D. Chattanooga, unsurprisingly, is more culturally homogeneous. I thought this town would boast some great barbecue, but I've had trouble finding places that really smoke the hell out of some meat. I haven't yet found that "native" cuisine that's special to this place, and I'm beginning to wonder if it exists. I keep going to the same few dependable restaurants but longing for more adventure.
Yet, within footsteps of my home, I can purchase fresh-roasted coffee, handmade sausage and artisan bread. This winter, Dan and I purchased an 18-week lettuce CSA and now we get to eat fresh greens every day. These small local farms and businesses are where you find the best flavors in Chattanooga. I'm glad that so many of these vendors are represented in our city's restaurants, but for the sake of thrift and control, I prefer to eliminate the middle man and just deal with these businesses directly. Living here, I just don't have as much motivation to go out to eat.
Despite my waning interest in living a food-focused life, it turns out that I'm really good at selling the stuff. My only goal at work is to get people to put whatever item I'm pushing in their basket and I'm a little shocked at how often they do. We aim for a 400% increase in sales of that item. Two weeks ago, I was demoing an obscure salami that I was sure no one would buy; we saw a 1500% lift in its sales. I'd call it a fluke, but my coworkers are always shocked when I run out of whatever I'm sampling. I must admit that I find this success very satisfying. I'm excited about this new facet in my ever-changing relationship with food. Food and I may not be best friends anymore, but we make great business partners.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
It Is What It Isn't
I'm not so sure about this new job. I feel like it should have bored me to death by now. Two or three days a week, I "demo" a featured product at a health food store. I have some experience sampling specialty food items from my days at Foodie Deluxe (not its real name, which - if you know me - you probably know anyway), and I guess I'm pretty good at the 30-second-to-one-minute sales pitch. Anyway, we keep selling out of the stuff that I'm pushing which seems to indicate that I'm doing my job well. But eight hours is a long time to stand in one place doing this one thing and I wonder how long I can dig this gig.
It helps that I do this only part-time, and that I receive a kick-ass 20% discount in addition to my reasonable hourly wage. It also helps that this store happens to be a surprisingly pleasant public gathering space. There's a slew of individuals who pop in almost every day, wandering the aisles, chilling in the cafe, enjoying the cheese and fruit samples. I generally dislike shopping but I've always liked shopping there. Pretty much every employee I've met has been friendly and helpful. I can envision a scenario in which I pursue other opportunities at this place because so far, I really like the company.
Yet, I am surprisingly pleased to be doing what I do now. Why is that? How can I be content with the repetition and constantly hearing myself say things like, "Isn't it great how the spice in the chutney complements that cheese?" as if I were saying it for the first time? How can I so willingly wait through those quiet half hour blocks, when I see nearly no customers and all I can do is think about stuff and anagram words on signs*? Is it the rewards and the environment that keep me interested? Or rather, is it all the things this job isn't? The latter is worth some consideration.
Number 1 - This job isn't critical to the overall operation. I've been the boss, the only other waitress, the necessary extra set of hands to get the job done. Being valued is nice, but being critical is overrated. I love that the store will run just fine whether or not I'm dishing crab dip samples. That doesn't mean that I'm going to slack off or show up late. But, there is some comfort in knowing that taking a sick day isn't going to make another person's day miserable.
Number 2 - This job doesn't require that I work closely with anyone else. This is a biggie. I work best in situations where I can get away from other people, because my feelings are much like Calvin Tran's ~
Even though his words make no sense, I know exactly what he means.
Really, I've got no problem with team work. I can work well with a group because I'm generally nice and helpful and can crack wise in an entertaining fashion. That's the fun part of working with others. Too bad I absolutely loathe the downside of group dynamics - drama, bitching, passive aggressive behavior, mean-spirited gossip, etc. My MO in most jobs is to keep conversation light and avoid talking about others behind their backs. Okay, incompetent bigwigs and annoying people from other departments are fair game, but I'm very seriously opposed to trashing the people you work with every day. Even when complaints are warranted, I find that such two-faced behavior only makes a bad situation worse. When backbiting becomes common, I know it's the beginning of the end for me and that job.
At the same time, I don't like having to be friendly or pleasant to a person who drives me batshit crazy. Professionalism is one thing, but I can hold in a lot of emotion when I'm dealing with someone I don't like. That isn't good for me. I need to be in a situation where I can get away from annoying people.
The position I'm in now is pretty extreme. I'm physically isolated from most other employees. In fact, I stand in one place all day and hope that others will come by and visit for a bit. Again, I doubt that I could be happy doing this for years, but coming off my last long-term job (working in a tiny office with anywhere from three to seven other people at a time), I think this distance from others will be nice for a while.
Number 3 - This isn't the only job available. My recent trip to Michigan, though delightful in many regards, was a bummer trip in just as many ways. The air of recession depression is practically overwhelming. It isn't just the unemployed who are struggling. The semi-employed and those who are working jobs they hate (but are too scared to leave) are suffering, too. I've been in all three of those situations and know that each one sucks. I would have a very different perspective on this gig if I lived in Michigan because I would feel more desperate about keeping it. This is already my second job in Chattanooga and I feel pretty confident that I could find more work elsewhere if this place doesn't suit me, which takes the pressure off this being the One Big Opportunity.
I read a David Sedaris piece in which he mentions this idea that our lives are like a four burner stove, with each burner representing family, health, work/career and friends. Successful people usually have just three burners turned on, and super successful people use just two. Of course, this begs the question, how do you order your burners? Family and health would be my current top two. I suppose that being new to this town would allow work to tie with friends, only because I haven't made that many yet. In any case, work just isn't a big priority for me right now. I like making money and having a commitment to something outside of myself. I like the forced social interaction, even when it's as superficial as, "You've gotta try this artisinal salami!" I like that what I'm doing now is so different from what I had been doing for the last several years. Still, I have to admit, I'm surprised that this is enough for me right now.
*That's a boredom-fighting tip my mom taught me; my recent discovery is "spices" and "Pisces".
It helps that I do this only part-time, and that I receive a kick-ass 20% discount in addition to my reasonable hourly wage. It also helps that this store happens to be a surprisingly pleasant public gathering space. There's a slew of individuals who pop in almost every day, wandering the aisles, chilling in the cafe, enjoying the cheese and fruit samples. I generally dislike shopping but I've always liked shopping there. Pretty much every employee I've met has been friendly and helpful. I can envision a scenario in which I pursue other opportunities at this place because so far, I really like the company.
Yet, I am surprisingly pleased to be doing what I do now. Why is that? How can I be content with the repetition and constantly hearing myself say things like, "Isn't it great how the spice in the chutney complements that cheese?" as if I were saying it for the first time? How can I so willingly wait through those quiet half hour blocks, when I see nearly no customers and all I can do is think about stuff and anagram words on signs*? Is it the rewards and the environment that keep me interested? Or rather, is it all the things this job isn't? The latter is worth some consideration.
Number 1 - This job isn't critical to the overall operation. I've been the boss, the only other waitress, the necessary extra set of hands to get the job done. Being valued is nice, but being critical is overrated. I love that the store will run just fine whether or not I'm dishing crab dip samples. That doesn't mean that I'm going to slack off or show up late. But, there is some comfort in knowing that taking a sick day isn't going to make another person's day miserable.
Number 2 - This job doesn't require that I work closely with anyone else. This is a biggie. I work best in situations where I can get away from other people, because my feelings are much like Calvin Tran's ~
Even though his words make no sense, I know exactly what he means.
Really, I've got no problem with team work. I can work well with a group because I'm generally nice and helpful and can crack wise in an entertaining fashion. That's the fun part of working with others. Too bad I absolutely loathe the downside of group dynamics - drama, bitching, passive aggressive behavior, mean-spirited gossip, etc. My MO in most jobs is to keep conversation light and avoid talking about others behind their backs. Okay, incompetent bigwigs and annoying people from other departments are fair game, but I'm very seriously opposed to trashing the people you work with every day. Even when complaints are warranted, I find that such two-faced behavior only makes a bad situation worse. When backbiting becomes common, I know it's the beginning of the end for me and that job.
At the same time, I don't like having to be friendly or pleasant to a person who drives me batshit crazy. Professionalism is one thing, but I can hold in a lot of emotion when I'm dealing with someone I don't like. That isn't good for me. I need to be in a situation where I can get away from annoying people.
The position I'm in now is pretty extreme. I'm physically isolated from most other employees. In fact, I stand in one place all day and hope that others will come by and visit for a bit. Again, I doubt that I could be happy doing this for years, but coming off my last long-term job (working in a tiny office with anywhere from three to seven other people at a time), I think this distance from others will be nice for a while.
Number 3 - This isn't the only job available. My recent trip to Michigan, though delightful in many regards, was a bummer trip in just as many ways. The air of recession depression is practically overwhelming. It isn't just the unemployed who are struggling. The semi-employed and those who are working jobs they hate (but are too scared to leave) are suffering, too. I've been in all three of those situations and know that each one sucks. I would have a very different perspective on this gig if I lived in Michigan because I would feel more desperate about keeping it. This is already my second job in Chattanooga and I feel pretty confident that I could find more work elsewhere if this place doesn't suit me, which takes the pressure off this being the One Big Opportunity.
I read a David Sedaris piece in which he mentions this idea that our lives are like a four burner stove, with each burner representing family, health, work/career and friends. Successful people usually have just three burners turned on, and super successful people use just two. Of course, this begs the question, how do you order your burners? Family and health would be my current top two. I suppose that being new to this town would allow work to tie with friends, only because I haven't made that many yet. In any case, work just isn't a big priority for me right now. I like making money and having a commitment to something outside of myself. I like the forced social interaction, even when it's as superficial as, "You've gotta try this artisinal salami!" I like that what I'm doing now is so different from what I had been doing for the last several years. Still, I have to admit, I'm surprised that this is enough for me right now.
*That's a boredom-fighting tip my mom taught me; my recent discovery is "spices" and "Pisces".
Monday, August 30, 2010
Work Sweet Work
I had an encouraging experience on Friday afternoon. I was walking down Main Street and heard someone shout, "Hey, Tara!" That hadn't happened to me yet in my new town.
It was my twenty one year old supervisor, who I'll call Gabe. Gabe was standing on the deck of the taco shop, a cold beer in hand.
"Hey, beer - nice!" I said. It was around 2pm.
"Yeah, I need it. This morning sucked. Phil didn't show up."
"Who's Phil?"
"He's the new kitchen guy. Now I have to cover for him tonight, and I had plans, too."
"Aw, that sucks."
"Yeah, but it's just part of the new job." Gabe became a manager last week. "At least I have this beer to calm my nerves."
"That's good. Enjoy it! I'll see you tomorrow."
Ah, to be twenty one and the boss. I remember those days. At that time, I probably wouldn't have guessed that I would be doing that same kind of work at age thirty three and if I had, I might have found that very depressing. But I'm not depressed now. For several reasons, this new job has brought me great relief.
For one thing, it gives me something to do with my day. I've suffered bouts of unemployment before (I think the maximum length was just shy of three months) and while I won't pretend I didn't enjoy the ample free time, I missed the structured days and, of course, the money. I used to think that I would be happy to be unemployed if money were no concern. Well, now that Dan has a full-time teaching gig, I'm as close to that reality as I've ever been but still I felt the need to get a job asap. The brutal southern heat combined with my natural shyness made it too easy for me to stay indoors all day and just wait for Dan to come home. I was getting bored and weekends just weren't feeling like weekends.
So, I got myself a job. This is as good a time as any to note that I barely ever blog about work, for a few reasons: 1) it isn't that interesting (and if it is, that's usually a good sign that I should be looking for a job elsewhere); 2) it clashes with my sense of professionalism - I rarely gossip at work because it usually leads to trouble, and that's the same reason I don't do work gossip on my blog; 3) the obvious one - I don't know who reads this. But, for the sake of sharing my new life with whatever readers I have, I'm going to disguise and describe my new workplace, which requires that I tell you a bit about my old one.
I used to work in the catering department of a nationally renowned deli that I'll call Foodie Deluxe. FD is famous for its towering sandwiches made with tasty breads from its sister company, Foodie Deluxe Bakehouse. Before I left Michigan, I did my research and learned that an FDB alum had started his own bakery in Chattanooga. That bakery happens to sit around the corner from my apartment and after we moved in, I started heading over there every day for a cup of coffee and free wifi. When I noticed that they had a retail sales position open, I made sure to put "Foodie Deluxe" in big print on the application.
It worked. I interviewed with the owner right after he returned from vacation. By the first day of my third week in town, I was selling bread and slinging coffee. I quickly learned that I shouldn't mention my FD background to my new coworkers, because I got this reaction - "Oh, you worked at Foodie Deluxe." Eye roll. "Well, the owner must loooove you." After hearing that a couple times, my story was simply that I had worked for a catering company in Michigan.
Really, other than the fact that I'm working with artisan breads, this job has almost nothing in common with the last one. I'm on my feet all day instead of sitting at a desk, which I definitely prefer (though I am starting to feel my age). The hourly pay is lower (boo) but I make cash tips (yay!). The two biggest differences are the level of organization and the customer service dynamics. Foodie Deluxe was big on customer service, which I loved. They claim (and I actually think it's true), that providing great service is as important as serving great food and making money. Too often, service workers are made to feel that their work isn't "real" work and I liked having a job that dignified customer service. Plus, the company did a good job of making it easy to provide great service by being highly systematized and allowing their employees to do whatever it takes to make the customer happy. I didn't have to ask my manager if I could give the customer a refund, I could just use my own judgment.
In my current job, I feel like I can make similar judgment calls and it's such a small business that it's easy for me to find a manager or supervisor who can deal with an unhappy customer. At the same time, because it is a small, up-and-coming business, I don't feel quite as comfortable giving refunds and band-aid cookies because cash is tighter.
In addition to that, there are almost no documented systems for anything, whether it's "how to give a refund" or instructions on cleaning the espresso machine. Fortunately, I've had enough restaurant/barista/food service jobs that I know the right questions to ask. But I have to admit that it was a little freaky for me at first. My northern sense of efficiency makes me nervous and leads me to frequently wonder if I'm doing my job right, or in the smartest possible way. In my experience, efficacy is as important as accuracy. I'm from the birthplace of the assembly line. I had a boss in Detroit who would berate me if I didn't pour coffee, bus tables and wipe counters in as few steps as possible. I keep expecting a customer to yell at me because they had to wait ten minutes for their sandwich when there were only a few other people in the dining room.
But, guess what? That doesn't happen! In the three weeks I've been working at the bakery, I have not seen a single customer yell at anyone. One man calmly asked for a refund after he waited half and hour for his sandwich and was told that we had run out of that type of bread. He simply said, "This is not right," and my supervisor said, "I'm sorry," and that was that. Yes, southerners are much nicer than people up north. When I was trying to figure out the credit card machine on my first day, I explained to the customer that I was a newbie and she said, "Oh, I thought you'd been here a week, at least!" before sticking a buck in the tip jar. Another woman cheered for me when I bused her table. I've never had a new job where the customers were so encouraging of my development! Honestly (and I've never felt this before) interacting with customers is one of my favorite things about this job.
But my coworkers are cool, too. Everyone I've worked with so far has been pretty friendly and helpful. I don't know if I'll make pals at this place, but I find even work-related social interactions uplifting. Starting over in a new town is exciting but lonely. Sometimes it just feels really good to here someone call your name as you're walking down the street.
It was my twenty one year old supervisor, who I'll call Gabe. Gabe was standing on the deck of the taco shop, a cold beer in hand.
"Hey, beer - nice!" I said. It was around 2pm.
"Yeah, I need it. This morning sucked. Phil didn't show up."
"Who's Phil?"
"He's the new kitchen guy. Now I have to cover for him tonight, and I had plans, too."
"Aw, that sucks."
"Yeah, but it's just part of the new job." Gabe became a manager last week. "At least I have this beer to calm my nerves."
"That's good. Enjoy it! I'll see you tomorrow."
Ah, to be twenty one and the boss. I remember those days. At that time, I probably wouldn't have guessed that I would be doing that same kind of work at age thirty three and if I had, I might have found that very depressing. But I'm not depressed now. For several reasons, this new job has brought me great relief.
For one thing, it gives me something to do with my day. I've suffered bouts of unemployment before (I think the maximum length was just shy of three months) and while I won't pretend I didn't enjoy the ample free time, I missed the structured days and, of course, the money. I used to think that I would be happy to be unemployed if money were no concern. Well, now that Dan has a full-time teaching gig, I'm as close to that reality as I've ever been but still I felt the need to get a job asap. The brutal southern heat combined with my natural shyness made it too easy for me to stay indoors all day and just wait for Dan to come home. I was getting bored and weekends just weren't feeling like weekends.
So, I got myself a job. This is as good a time as any to note that I barely ever blog about work, for a few reasons: 1) it isn't that interesting (and if it is, that's usually a good sign that I should be looking for a job elsewhere); 2) it clashes with my sense of professionalism - I rarely gossip at work because it usually leads to trouble, and that's the same reason I don't do work gossip on my blog; 3) the obvious one - I don't know who reads this. But, for the sake of sharing my new life with whatever readers I have, I'm going to disguise and describe my new workplace, which requires that I tell you a bit about my old one.
I used to work in the catering department of a nationally renowned deli that I'll call Foodie Deluxe. FD is famous for its towering sandwiches made with tasty breads from its sister company, Foodie Deluxe Bakehouse. Before I left Michigan, I did my research and learned that an FDB alum had started his own bakery in Chattanooga. That bakery happens to sit around the corner from my apartment and after we moved in, I started heading over there every day for a cup of coffee and free wifi. When I noticed that they had a retail sales position open, I made sure to put "Foodie Deluxe" in big print on the application.
It worked. I interviewed with the owner right after he returned from vacation. By the first day of my third week in town, I was selling bread and slinging coffee. I quickly learned that I shouldn't mention my FD background to my new coworkers, because I got this reaction - "Oh, you worked at Foodie Deluxe." Eye roll. "Well, the owner must loooove you." After hearing that a couple times, my story was simply that I had worked for a catering company in Michigan.
Really, other than the fact that I'm working with artisan breads, this job has almost nothing in common with the last one. I'm on my feet all day instead of sitting at a desk, which I definitely prefer (though I am starting to feel my age). The hourly pay is lower (boo) but I make cash tips (yay!). The two biggest differences are the level of organization and the customer service dynamics. Foodie Deluxe was big on customer service, which I loved. They claim (and I actually think it's true), that providing great service is as important as serving great food and making money. Too often, service workers are made to feel that their work isn't "real" work and I liked having a job that dignified customer service. Plus, the company did a good job of making it easy to provide great service by being highly systematized and allowing their employees to do whatever it takes to make the customer happy. I didn't have to ask my manager if I could give the customer a refund, I could just use my own judgment.
In my current job, I feel like I can make similar judgment calls and it's such a small business that it's easy for me to find a manager or supervisor who can deal with an unhappy customer. At the same time, because it is a small, up-and-coming business, I don't feel quite as comfortable giving refunds and band-aid cookies because cash is tighter.
In addition to that, there are almost no documented systems for anything, whether it's "how to give a refund" or instructions on cleaning the espresso machine. Fortunately, I've had enough restaurant/barista/food service jobs that I know the right questions to ask. But I have to admit that it was a little freaky for me at first. My northern sense of efficiency makes me nervous and leads me to frequently wonder if I'm doing my job right, or in the smartest possible way. In my experience, efficacy is as important as accuracy. I'm from the birthplace of the assembly line. I had a boss in Detroit who would berate me if I didn't pour coffee, bus tables and wipe counters in as few steps as possible. I keep expecting a customer to yell at me because they had to wait ten minutes for their sandwich when there were only a few other people in the dining room.
But, guess what? That doesn't happen! In the three weeks I've been working at the bakery, I have not seen a single customer yell at anyone. One man calmly asked for a refund after he waited half and hour for his sandwich and was told that we had run out of that type of bread. He simply said, "This is not right," and my supervisor said, "I'm sorry," and that was that. Yes, southerners are much nicer than people up north. When I was trying to figure out the credit card machine on my first day, I explained to the customer that I was a newbie and she said, "Oh, I thought you'd been here a week, at least!" before sticking a buck in the tip jar. Another woman cheered for me when I bused her table. I've never had a new job where the customers were so encouraging of my development! Honestly (and I've never felt this before) interacting with customers is one of my favorite things about this job.
But my coworkers are cool, too. Everyone I've worked with so far has been pretty friendly and helpful. I don't know if I'll make pals at this place, but I find even work-related social interactions uplifting. Starting over in a new town is exciting but lonely. Sometimes it just feels really good to here someone call your name as you're walking down the street.
Monday, August 3, 2009
No Justice, No Piece of Pie
On the last Saturday in July, Dan and I attended Pie Lovers Unite at the Ladies' Literary Club in Ypsilanti. It was an affair as awkward as it was tasty.
The entry fee for the event was either $5 a head or 1 pie per family. Of course, we had to bring one of Dan's fabulous pies, with his one-of-a kind crack crust. Before Dan started making crust, I always thought that pie was pretty lame. But that's only because most crusts are disgusting. The common myth is that you must use shortening (a.k.a. the world's least enjoyable fat). The key to Dan's pie crust is butter, just a little lard, and coarse sea salt. Yum! A good crust may not be the best tasting part of a great pie, but it is always the most valuable player.
Slow Food Huron Valley sponsors Pie Lovers Unite. In keeping with their mission, they encouraged entrants to use only local ingredients. Even though you can't grow a lemon in Michigan, we decided to bring a lemon meringue pie. Screw it. What's a pie contest without lemon meringue?
And so we set out for the Ladies' Literary Club, citrus pie in tow. The Club was packed by the time we got there. The atmosphere was sort of like a church hall gathering crossed with a Jane Austen drawing room scene - lots of little old ladies, attractive young people and questionable manners. The front parlor was crowded with self-proclaimed pie lovers seated around a dozen small card tables. We wound up in the back dining room, which was really the best place to be. The judges sat at one end of the room, sampling bits of every pie, all of which were stacked high on a massive table in the center of the room. I was perfectly content to stand there, ogling the pies and sipping a cup of coffee (from the aptly named Mighty Good coffee company) as the more formal ceremony took place in the adjacent parlor.
It was a pretty weird program. The emcee, though mild-mannered and pleasant, seemed to enjoy the microphone more than it flattered her. She spoke of pie passion in a humdrum monotone. She tried to rile up the crowd with a battle cry, raising her voice just a smidgen to say
"Pie lovers"
to which three people responded, "Unite"
"Pie lovers"
"unite"
And that was that.
The next order of business was the pie-ku reading (yep, haikus about pie), followed by the pie walk. I'd heard of a cake walk before, but never really knew what it was. For the pie walk, participants gathering in a circle around the pie table and marching clockwise to some polka music. There were paper signs taped to the floor, each with the name of a local farm on it. When the music stopped, so did the participants. Then the emcee called out the name of one of those farms, and whoever happened to be standing on that farm's sign won a prize. I could totally get down with that.
But since there wasn't enough space for everyone to compete in a single pie walk, there were several. And then, the emcee came up with random and bizarre qualifiers, like "If you're wearing sandals, you get to be in this pie walk!" The most annoying qualifier was, "If you keep chickens in your backyard, you get to be in this pie walk!" I hate the way the slow food movement alienates working class people - renters can't partake in that pie walk!
If I ever host a pie walk, I'm going to come up with qualifiers that get you excited about the not-so-great details of your life like, "If you've ever had an abortion, you get to be in this pie walk!" That way, everyone has a chance to feel good about themselves.
Perhaps it's jokes like that that make me a pariah. I must have had the word "avoid" tattooed on my head that day, because I saw several co-workers at Pie Lovers Unite and only two of them spoke to me willingly (I tip my hat to HM and LG for being so kind). One woman averted her glance when I smiled and waved and another bolted when I said "Hello". I really try to not take this stuff personally, but it's getting to be a little tough.
My favorite awkward moment of the night happened when LG (who was one of the judges) gave me some very thoughtful feedback on the only lemon meringue pie in the competition. She swore that the whole panel was impressed with the "jiggle" of the meringue, and that the filling was considered well set. I gushed, "LG, I feel like I'm on Iron Chef!" And just as I was starting to feel at home at PLU, a thoroughly obnoxious woman approached us. She knew LG, but I knew her, too. I'll call her Bertha. Bertha volunteers at the theater where I used to work. She's a nightmare, one of those townies that you can never get rid of. Terrible manners, loud, crass, dumb.
In spite of all that, I tried smiling and waving at her, too. We're all pie lovers, right? She ignored me, until she was just about to walk away. Then she turned to me, stared down her bulbous nose and said, "Hey, you look familiar. Where do I know you from?" I connected the dots to the theater, and she replied, "Oh, I haven't seen you there in a long time." Then she turned on her heel and wobbled away.
Alas, Dan's entry did not win a prize, but we did get to eat a lot of pies - savory, sweet, some well crusted (though many were not). I got a pretty wicked sugar rush that night, right before I headed down to the karaoke pub. All in all, it was a pretty fab Ypsi night, despite all the social awkwardness and unfair pie walks.
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