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Let the record show that as of July 29, I have not worked in hospitality in eight months, except for a partial shift on Christmas Eve. I quit my job at the hotel where I'd been employed for the past five and a half years for many reasons, which included among them idiot coworkers, incompetent housekeeping staff, a bipolar boss, the constant cheating and scamming and lying and stealing and bitching and whining and moaning and conning of the guests, and the fact that the job had begun to both make me physically ill and had the ability to throw me into deep depressions. There was also the contributing factor of making $7.20 an hour after five and a half years working there.
This was the job that, when I described my responsibilities and what I got paid for it, left the HR staff at the development office where I applied and the plastics factory where I got hired staring at me in open-mouthed horror. This was the job that, when I described my responsibilities and what I got paid for it, caused the interviewer at a staffing agency to blurt out, "You could make more than that working at McDonald's!" then redden, cover her mouth with her hand and say by way of quick apology, "Not that I'm saying you should go work at McDonald's, of course..."
My old boss, who in spite of it all I still consider a friend, has been trying to get me to come back since I quit. She offered a pay raise. She offered three months free rent at the house I rented from her -- but which I moved out of at the first available opportunity because of my utterly disgusting roommate.
It got to the point that I stopped answering the phone if I saw her number or the hotel's number. She rarely left messages anyway, but on the off chance that she did, I'd delete it without listening to it.
After a while, things calmed down. Then, last night I received a call on my phone from a number that looked familiar but I couldn't place exactly where I knew that number from. I answered...
...And it was my ex-boss' husband, who informed me that she wanted to talk to me and that I should call her. I cursed silently, agreed to do so and hung up. Knowing that if I didn't call her that would only incite a wave of more calls to my phone, I bit the bullet and called her. There followed a session of her power-begging me to come back and me refusing while I watched my five-week-old kittens, who just learned how to climb the stairs in my apartment yesterday, come up those stairs at me in a wave.
Somehow or another the mess got turned around to me coming in today for a friendly visit. Just as a friend. She'd gotten the message that I wasn't coming back.
Ha.
I showed up, we chit-chatted, and then the power-begging started again in earnest. She offered me the same money I make at the factory, and offered to pay for my health insurance. She offered more money than I make at the factory and offered to pay for my health insurance if I would just come back... and I still refused every time.
Think of it this way. Let's say you are perfectly qualified to be a medical examiner, but the act of hacking up dead bodies and the sight of your handiwork causes you to heave up your lunch each and every time, plus the sounds and smells and sights of the whole ungodly mess haunt you for weeks afterward and you go about your daily business in a jittery depression under a pervasive black gloom that begins to infect your relationships with everyone you love.
Sure you could make fantastic money at it, but would it be worth it?
I didn't think so either, and the power-beg today went on until I had finally refused as many times as I was going to, lied about having to go do some shopping, and walked out.
Not that that will stop her attempts, I'm sure, but it may have come down to a matter of just cutting her out of my life. I hate to lose a friend, but I'm not going back to that hellhole. Ever. Period. End of story.
Quite literally. Thanks for reading.
This was the job that, when I described my responsibilities and what I got paid for it, left the HR staff at the development office where I applied and the plastics factory where I got hired staring at me in open-mouthed horror. This was the job that, when I described my responsibilities and what I got paid for it, caused the interviewer at a staffing agency to blurt out, "You could make more than that working at McDonald's!" then redden, cover her mouth with her hand and say by way of quick apology, "Not that I'm saying you should go work at McDonald's, of course..."
My old boss, who in spite of it all I still consider a friend, has been trying to get me to come back since I quit. She offered a pay raise. She offered three months free rent at the house I rented from her -- but which I moved out of at the first available opportunity because of my utterly disgusting roommate.
It got to the point that I stopped answering the phone if I saw her number or the hotel's number. She rarely left messages anyway, but on the off chance that she did, I'd delete it without listening to it.
After a while, things calmed down. Then, last night I received a call on my phone from a number that looked familiar but I couldn't place exactly where I knew that number from. I answered...
...And it was my ex-boss' husband, who informed me that she wanted to talk to me and that I should call her. I cursed silently, agreed to do so and hung up. Knowing that if I didn't call her that would only incite a wave of more calls to my phone, I bit the bullet and called her. There followed a session of her power-begging me to come back and me refusing while I watched my five-week-old kittens, who just learned how to climb the stairs in my apartment yesterday, come up those stairs at me in a wave.
Somehow or another the mess got turned around to me coming in today for a friendly visit. Just as a friend. She'd gotten the message that I wasn't coming back.
Ha.
I showed up, we chit-chatted, and then the power-begging started again in earnest. She offered me the same money I make at the factory, and offered to pay for my health insurance. She offered more money than I make at the factory and offered to pay for my health insurance if I would just come back... and I still refused every time.
Think of it this way. Let's say you are perfectly qualified to be a medical examiner, but the act of hacking up dead bodies and the sight of your handiwork causes you to heave up your lunch each and every time, plus the sounds and smells and sights of the whole ungodly mess haunt you for weeks afterward and you go about your daily business in a jittery depression under a pervasive black gloom that begins to infect your relationships with everyone you love.
Sure you could make fantastic money at it, but would it be worth it?
I didn't think so either, and the power-beg today went on until I had finally refused as many times as I was going to, lied about having to go do some shopping, and walked out.
Not that that will stop her attempts, I'm sure, but it may have come down to a matter of just cutting her out of my life. I hate to lose a friend, but I'm not going back to that hellhole. Ever. Period. End of story.
Quite literally. Thanks for reading.
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