I'm the type of guy who believes firmly in the "I Scratch Your Back And You Scratch Mine" philosophy of life. It's a simple equation that has been fundamental to the development of mankind since we looked at the ground and thought 'hey, maybe if we worked together we can live down there instead of in these damn trees. I mean that's where the fruit falls when it's ripe, right?'
People helping people with the expectation of being helped in return some day when one needs it is an integral part of society. It's like the barter system for services rather than goods and the fact is that without cooperation, human civilization would've never progressed beyond one monkey hurling bananas down to his buddies.
So it's with that in mind that I kinda look at my job as a split society. The A team looks out for each other and no one else and thusly the B team is forced to rely on other B teamer's for their only source of support.
This is in terms of covering a shift or switching start times for a fellow Floor Monkey. I've kept tabs on every time I've covered another Floor Hosts's shift or come in early for them. Currently I'm fairly equal with the B teamers because we help each other out. With the A teamer's however, I'm working out of what I'll refer to as a fucking deficit.
In my time at this club I've covered 8 shifts for one A-Whole or another, and in return they have combined for a total of one shift covered for me out of of maybe ten times I've asked. They always have an excuse as to why they can't do it and sometimes the excuses are just plain weak as shit.
-"My Aunt is coming into town and even though she'll be here a week and I won't be seeing her on the night you asked me to cover, I can't do it for reasons I am unable to articulate at this time."
-"My dog seemed especially unhappy today and I am concerned for his well being. He recently lost his favorite toy to a chewing accident and has been glum ever since"
-"I can't tonight because I'm planning on getting my dick sucked by a stripper from another club and even though this will only take 5 minutes, I'll find other shit to do because it's more important to me than paying you back for your past help."
-"Man. I just don't feel like it."
I get it. Coming in on a night you're scheduled off sucks. I don't like it either. But if I owe someone a shift, I fucking well do it because it's the right thing to do. You have to take care of those who taken care of you, if you don't then you're a piece of shit and should throw yourself off something high into some jagged rocks. Do everyone a favor.
So here's what brought on this latest disappointment for me:
I just wanted to switch start times with another Floor Grog so that later tonight I could come in at 9 instead of 7. I figured with the positive shift-karma that I had accumulated with the three other Floor Beasts working tonight that it shouldn't be a problem.
But in this, like in so many other things in life, I was wrong.
I started with McQuim, our half Irish, half Samoan bouncer. I've covered 3 shifts for McQuim in addition to coming in early for him another 4 times and staying late for him uncounted times to make sure the Manager isn't killed after everyone else has left, because McQuim lives an insane distance from work and "has a long drive, dude" when his work week is over.*1
I don't care if you live 6 hours away. Move fucking closer, man. All I know is that I fully expected McQuim to say 'yeah, I got you covered, bro', but this is not what he said. He said he has to "have lunch with the wife's grandparents" and this is why he can't possibly make it into work by 7 PM to help pay back his karmic debt to me.
I almost shat myself with anger. This is the same Floor Guy who just last week when we worked together, completely fucked me on the after-work cleaning duties. We agreed he was going to do trash and the dressing room and that I would handle all the other crap we have to do. Well first off, I did half the trash myself in addition to everything else. Then when the Manager, Sir Grumpalong De'Holdaylong VII comes down at then end of the night he says "why isn't the dressing room done?", I had to do that too.
Mcquim was very apologetic about the whole thing. Apparently we'd had a miscommunication. What he meant to say was "do everything yourself, I'm fucking leaving now even though I'm the late guy."
So bearing this in mind I figured it was a slam dunk to get McQuim to cover a measly two hours for me.
And I already told you how that worked out for me.
So I turn to Seamus and Lo-Jaq, hoping one of them might remember the five shifts I've covered for the pair of them and be prepared to scratch my mudderfekkin back in return.
Insert sound effect of the 'wrong' buzzer from Family Feud....here.
You guessed it fair reader, both of them declined to help a brutha out.
And that being the final strike, this dumb Floor Squatch will no longer help an A teamer. I will only look out for my fellow B teamer's and I admit it took me too long to come to this conclusion. I always try to hope for the best in people and am seldom rewarded for it.
Done with all that.
Let me clear about something, I am not a subtle guy. I don't just blend in to a crowd, I stand out. Not much of a choice in the matter unless I'm sitting down.
I'm big. I'm opinionated. And I'm not shy about voicing those opinions if I feel the situation merits it or I stand to gain something by speaking up. I have a very deep voice and I've been a vocalist in two metal bands in my day and therefore..
If I yell at you you'll know it. There won't be the slightest doubt in your mind that you're being yelled, you'll be crystal clear on the matter. I very seldom yell at someone, but when I do, rest assured that it's a roar.
That being said, I had a Latetress*2 ask me tonight if all the customers were out of the building so she could smoke*3. I said yes they are. The she asks me "so can I smoke or not?", obviously having not heard me.
I said, slightly louder, "YES YOU CAN SMOKE."
She gets all serious and looks me in the eye and says....I shit you not.....
"Don't ever yell at me. You don't get to yell at me, pal. I don't have to take that from you."
I'm sure some sort of blankness rolled across my face for a moment while my brain processed her utterly wrongful premise and misplaced audacity. When I did respond all I had to say was:
"I didn't yell at you. If I had yelled at you, you'd fucking well know it. Smoke your cigarette."
Among the numerous things I didn't yell at her may be included the following:
1) "How can you suck so much at such an easy job?"
2) "When a large measure of your job success as a cocktail waitress can be directly tied to how attractive your are, why is it that on you, your outfit looks like an inexplicably large mesh cheesecloth that your body is slowly oozing from?"
3) "WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?"
Considering my mood after being burned by three Floor Grubs, I felt that I exercised great restraint in my reply to her cuntish remark.
When I yell at people their fucking hair moves, like in cartoons.
I had to cover the kitchen for two hours tonight because the cook was late. I should've just said no, it ain't in my job description. This club certainly hasn't done me any favors lately and I'm not feeling all that anxious to go out of my way to help them even more.
What I ended up saying of course was "OK".
The thing I especially liked about the whole deal was when Manager De'Holdaylong came up to me and the other early guy*4 and asks "So does one of you want to cover the kitchen until the cook gets here" full well knowing that I'm the only one of the two of us who's worked in a kitchen before.
I'm assuming he thought he was being clever and managerial, but in reality we both knew how it was going to play out. He just got to go home feeling good about himself for not ordering me to do it, which I could have refused because I'm not a fucking cook, nor is it my job to do so.
I should've never let anyone know that I knew which end of a potato masher you point at the spuds.
That's all you get. I don't care about the pictures, I really don't.
*1 Traditionally speaking, the "early" guy gets to leave when everything is done while the "late" guy stays after until the Manager is done with all his stuff. It's annoying because if we're unarmed, what the hell are we supposed to do other than get killed with the Manager? And if we're armed, why the fuck can't the Manager just buy his own damn gun and get a permit for it?
*2 Latetress: A server of food and drinks who is never on time for her shifts and sucks at it even when she is there.
*3 Club employees aren't allowed to smoke in the building when there are customers still inside it.
*4 My fellow B teamer and all around good guy who I'll call Tektroll because he's good at techy stuff and is a large mammal to boot.