Can You Hear Me Now?

At the new job, there is absolutely no fucking communication between management and staff. All of the managers have their heads so far up their asses that they must not have a signal for their Blackberries, because they never respond to emails even though they initially told me that "email is the best way for us to all stay connected." Email is only as good as the person who opens the fucking emails, twats.

The schedule went up with a few conflicts for me because no one ever bothered to ask about my life. At the initial interview I told Holly Hobby about my other job and that I could only work certain days. "Sure. No problem. We love people who are willing to take only a few shifts a week so that maybe they'll be able to pick up extra shifts when we need it." Clearly, she did not know who she was talking to. Me pick up extra shifts? That's funny, Holly Hobby. At the first day of orientation, they gave us the spiel about our required five days of training and after we had completed those, they would let us know if we would be invited to stay on as a member of the team. (Finally, I could be on a team. Take that, all you assholes from junior high who chose me last to be on the kickball team.) I assumed that at that discussion they would also speak to us about our availability since they have a set schedule and I have a life outside their restaurant. That didn't happen. The schedule just went up willy nilly with me all over the place. After a couple of attempts, manager Linda Evans finally emailed me back saying she would send out an email to get the shift covered and "no worries." Great. I do not have to worry about it because to me, that is what "no worries" means. But I knew that today when I was supposed to be at work, there was going to be a communication breakdown and whichever manager was working would have no idea why I wasn't showing up. Supposed to be there at noon. At 12:15, my cell phone rang which I didn't answer because I was in the shower. Thirty seconds later the home phone rings and this is what I hear from the bathroom:

Uh, hi, Bitchy Waiter? Thith ith Lithpy Gay Manager? And I thee that you're on the thhedule for today? But I don't thee you here? Tho can you call me ath thoon ath you get thith methage? Thankth.

And yes he really talks that way and everything is in the form of a question. I want to find a period, stuff it in his mouth and cram the perpetual question mark up his ass hole. I knew this would happen. Linda Evans didn't cover my shift for me like she said she would and now I look like the douche bag new employee who doesn't give a shit about his new job. Okay, that may be true, but I don't plan on letting it be that obvious for at least three weeks. I called back and spoke to whichever host ho picked up the phone. Lispy Gay Manager was busy so she told me she would pass on my info and he would call me back if he needed to talk to me. He didn't call back, because I read the email from Linda Evans to the Host Ho that said she was taking care of it. He knew I was right.

Later today, I received an email that went out to the whole staff about shift coverage and the correct procedure. I know that it was sent on my behalf. And you know what? I won't be there on Sunday either for the same reason: I have another job, I told you I did, you said it was okay, and Linda Evans said she'd take care of it. What a fucking joke this place is. I gave up unemployment benefits for this?


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