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Okay, so let me tell 'ya how this shindig went down:
After I transferred to the South Hill store, I was condemned to the day shift. Rough translation: I do the menial tasks with one other n00b and the occasional delivery whenever we got them.
Now, the week before I showed up at the store, I had wrecked my car, making me no longer the Nismo Powered Delivery Boy, and shuffled around my parents' '85 Subaru Legacy and '93 Jeep Cherokee while my little bit of Nismo magic rotted in the garage. Finally I ended up leasing a 2008 Mazda Axela, making me. . .
Well, you get the point.
Anyway, the day shift was okay for a while. Then started the manager shuffle. We had an MIT in for a day (I later found out that a friend working at another store had fired said MIT), and I was pretty much running the show while he was in. We had a couple other managers in that were pretty cool, some of 'em even helped with the prep work.
Then the MIT came back. I came to call him Czar Mitchell. And this guy was an absolute bastard. Some of his more notable exerpts include:
-Sending me home after taking a half hour on a delivery. . .that averages about forty-five minutes
-Never once touching the prep work
-Criticizing my prep work
-My personal favorite: Making me come in with a 102 degree fever under penalty of termination
Needless to say, this guy was an absolute dick. Luckily, he left not soon after I came in with that fever, to be replaced with another manager.
And what a piece of work he was. . .
Not a day went by he didn't take a step out to smoke a joint/bowl/weed of some sort, usually leaving myself and the other day driver to manage everything. For a while, it wasn't too bad. I did tell the store manager about it and she basicially gave me the "stick it out" speech.
So stick it out I do.
Until about a week or so ago.
I come in and he's smoking a joint. I let it slide because nobody's in the store and it'll be about an hour before things heat up. I start doing the standard prep work while he comes back in and starts doing manager-y things.
Things heat up a little sooner than I thought. I head out on a delivery that seemed reasonably old hat. It was.
When I pull back in, he's on joint number two. I head in and there's two customers waiting for a couple slices. No big deal; the pies are on the oven, I cut the slices and away they go. The manager comes back in, makes another couple slice pies, lets me know the other driver called in sick. I can deal with that.
Another delivery, this time a two stop that's a fair distance away. I take the deliveries that are all rather pleasant and tip fairly well and come back to the store.
Again, there's the manager on joint three.
Then I stepped into the store.
What I saw still defies logic to this point. There were three pizza's coming out of the oven - I barely managed to get them off the belt and into boxes before they hit the ground. There had been two lines on hold, and the lobby was packed with people who wanted slices that hadn't been helped.
It takes me about a half hour to manage the whole mess. I throw together some pizza's, get slices out, take the phone orders, and finally, the store slows down.
About this time, the manager comes stumbling back in. At this point, I'm pissed off beyond all belief, and it's hard for me to get pissed. I have a very long fuse.
Not wanting to deal with anymore of the BS that I'd been getting, I simply walk past him and say, quite loudly, "I quit." To which he responds, "You can't quit." I, of course, have to ask, "And why's that?"
"'Cause I'll fire you."
That's right. He'd gotten so high that he didn't quite comprehend the fact that I had just quit, leaving the entire store to him until the night shift showed up.
I talked to the store manager a bit and pretty much got told, "Them's the breaks," but that's okay. With the rest of the staff there's no hard feelings, but for some reason, the manager's still there. I don't get that, but I've never really figured the place out anyway. It's probably all for the best, though.
And now, I'm searching for a new job. Let the good times roll. . .
After I transferred to the South Hill store, I was condemned to the day shift. Rough translation: I do the menial tasks with one other n00b and the occasional delivery whenever we got them.
Now, the week before I showed up at the store, I had wrecked my car, making me no longer the Nismo Powered Delivery Boy, and shuffled around my parents' '85 Subaru Legacy and '93 Jeep Cherokee while my little bit of Nismo magic rotted in the garage. Finally I ended up leasing a 2008 Mazda Axela, making me. . .
Well, you get the point.
Anyway, the day shift was okay for a while. Then started the manager shuffle. We had an MIT in for a day (I later found out that a friend working at another store had fired said MIT), and I was pretty much running the show while he was in. We had a couple other managers in that were pretty cool, some of 'em even helped with the prep work.
Then the MIT came back. I came to call him Czar Mitchell. And this guy was an absolute bastard. Some of his more notable exerpts include:
-Sending me home after taking a half hour on a delivery. . .that averages about forty-five minutes
-Never once touching the prep work
-Criticizing my prep work
-My personal favorite: Making me come in with a 102 degree fever under penalty of termination
Needless to say, this guy was an absolute dick. Luckily, he left not soon after I came in with that fever, to be replaced with another manager.
And what a piece of work he was. . .
Not a day went by he didn't take a step out to smoke a joint/bowl/weed of some sort, usually leaving myself and the other day driver to manage everything. For a while, it wasn't too bad. I did tell the store manager about it and she basicially gave me the "stick it out" speech.
So stick it out I do.
Until about a week or so ago.
I come in and he's smoking a joint. I let it slide because nobody's in the store and it'll be about an hour before things heat up. I start doing the standard prep work while he comes back in and starts doing manager-y things.
Things heat up a little sooner than I thought. I head out on a delivery that seemed reasonably old hat. It was.
When I pull back in, he's on joint number two. I head in and there's two customers waiting for a couple slices. No big deal; the pies are on the oven, I cut the slices and away they go. The manager comes back in, makes another couple slice pies, lets me know the other driver called in sick. I can deal with that.
Another delivery, this time a two stop that's a fair distance away. I take the deliveries that are all rather pleasant and tip fairly well and come back to the store.
Again, there's the manager on joint three.
Then I stepped into the store.
What I saw still defies logic to this point. There were three pizza's coming out of the oven - I barely managed to get them off the belt and into boxes before they hit the ground. There had been two lines on hold, and the lobby was packed with people who wanted slices that hadn't been helped.
It takes me about a half hour to manage the whole mess. I throw together some pizza's, get slices out, take the phone orders, and finally, the store slows down.
About this time, the manager comes stumbling back in. At this point, I'm pissed off beyond all belief, and it's hard for me to get pissed. I have a very long fuse.
Not wanting to deal with anymore of the BS that I'd been getting, I simply walk past him and say, quite loudly, "I quit." To which he responds, "You can't quit." I, of course, have to ask, "And why's that?"
"'Cause I'll fire you."
That's right. He'd gotten so high that he didn't quite comprehend the fact that I had just quit, leaving the entire store to him until the night shift showed up.
I talked to the store manager a bit and pretty much got told, "Them's the breaks," but that's okay. With the rest of the staff there's no hard feelings, but for some reason, the manager's still there. I don't get that, but I've never really figured the place out anyway. It's probably all for the best, though.
And now, I'm searching for a new job. Let the good times roll. . .
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