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Just a collection of thoughts |
| just a place to gather some thoughts as have a chance 😁 😁 😁 |
| Sometimes, the past won't stay where it belongs. This is especially true for the most recent past events. One of the jobs I chose to leave for the opportunity that presented itself to me has called me at least 4 times to see if I would consider changing my mind. Now keep in mind that they are not offering any pay difference from what I made before I left. They aren't offering any set schedule or any guarantees of hours at all. The owner of that business just doesn't want to train another manager and doesn't want to work the shifts himself. That said, keep in mind that I struggled to get 30 hours there. I also made just under $12 per hour I have tried to be polite. I have tried explaining my reasoning. Finally, tonight I decided to just be blunt. To hold nothing back.-- I lost my temper with all the interruptions and the comments that I needed to get my priorities straight. I told him that if he weren't so cheap and he would fix everything that broke down in the restaurant (water heater, fry warming station, the front door lock, ECT,,,) and if he paid his team livable wages and gave hours according to position reliability and availability then he might retain more staff instead of having a turnover rate of 85 percent. He got angry and hung up..... Maybe he won't call again and I can get some peace at my current job 😂😂 |
| wrote a piece for a 55 word challenge...and because it was restricted to such a short format I wanted to elaborate on it. I have been working since forever.y first job arrived when I was 7 years old. I became a caretaker after school to my bratty, spoiled little sister. I learned to make simple things.... grilled cheese sandwiches, canned 🍲 ramen noodles. At that time, I thought I was being a great help, I was trusted, and I received no pay.. it was responsibility knocking at my door for the very first time. And, I opened the heavy door not realizing that it now knew where I lived, and that meant it would begin knocking more often. I didn't ask for it, this new playmate that would demand I swallow my needs on order to cater to its needs. I didn't seek it out. I didn't know if would steal my innocence, my childhood. And, I didn't know it would consume my soul with its incessant demands. When I was eight, it came knocking again...just a little louder and more urgent than before. I became the neighborhood babysitter, reading notes that parents left behind with promises to be back before nine. I was expected to handle any situation that might arise.... from simple meals to bedtimes...told not to call unless the house was on fire... This pattern continued through my young years. then when I was fourteen, responsibility knocked again, harder, more insistent. I opened the door. There stood a two year old boy, crying through the night in a tone that scared me. I did not call his parents. it was almost midnight and they had promised to be home by9....guess theirclock ran on different schedule than mine. He had been screaming non-stop since shortly after they Left at 630pm. I did not dare call because they had told me that I would not be paid if I ruined their night over an overactive teenage imagination. Beyond that, they hadn't left an emergency number, a destination where they would be, and these were the days before cell phones were common. I don't think I had ever seen one or knew anyone who had at the time. Finally, desperate, I called the forbidden number....the emergency service number. Non emergency. aa An ambulance arrived....that little boy ended up having a cardiac event from a defect in his heart. They couldn't find his parents, didn't have familial information, but I je hospital couldn't wait. When I left with the child in the ambulance, I had written a hasty note. His parents arrived at the hospital and hour after he had returned from surgery. I guess I ruined their night because, true to their word, I didn't get paid. That was the last babysitting job for a long while. Of course, responsibility did not stop knocking. It's still rapping at my door, always more urgently than before. And I am still answering, doing what must be done, protecting it from more harm, and still waiting for it to be my turn to knock on another's door asking for what I need instead of being the one to save responsibility from the world.
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