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Just a Cold

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Why do we say, “I just have a cold,” when someone asks why they can’t understand a word coming out of our mouths? Are we trying to separate it from the Dengue Fever going around the neighborhood? Are we ashamed that we don’t have something more impressive?

I have never met someone with a cold who was not totally miserable. (Some of them were that way before the virus, so they don’t really count.) But we have made it some type of badge of honor to go on as if nothing were wrong. As in, “I came to work today; it’s only a cold.” Well you look like something the dog dragged in from the dumpster, thanks for wanting to share it with me. They sit next to you, coughing and blowing their noses, not noticing that you’re about to gag. Honestly, nothing you do here is so important that you can’t miss a day or two.

Then you have places like my store. Without sick time (and with low wages), the average employee really can’t afford to stay home. It works out well for the company – turnover is so high that there really isn’t anyone else to do the job. Besides, the odds are that you are making the customers sick, not the other employees. So it’s kind of a win-win for the company. The odds of the customer figuring out it was an employee making them sick, rather than the toddler coughing all over everything, are pretty low. Usually people write it off to “something going around”.  I always picture little viruses dressed like spies in the cartoons.

So you can probably tell that I have been sick, and am pretty grouchy about the whole thing. It started with a sore throat. You need to understand that I live in Michigan. There is ‘something in the air’ here, and that something makes it impossible to breathe clearly for approximately half the year (the other half is extremely cold so you more worried about your nose falling off than working correctly). I’m not sure what sinuses are supposed to do, but it must have something to do with carrying around extra gunk your body doesn’t need. I know people who have gotten off the plane saying they felt fine when they left home, but are now sick. Generally, they have a miraculous recovery once they get home.

I remember reading somewhere that the government sent out scouts after the Civil War to find places for the expanding population to inhabit. The report came back from Michigan that it was dismal and swampy; basically unfit for human habitation. I’m guessing they came in early spring when the weather changes constantly and everyone looks and feels groggy. I would have liked to remind them that Washington, DC is built on a swamp. And they are the same people who had granted us statehood thirty-some years earlier.

I’m telling you all of this not to slam Michigan. It’s beautiful, I love it, and I wouldn’t live anywhere else. But to explain why I could have a sore throat for a week and not really think anything of it. So I go to church and see a friend. He laughs and says something about my sinuses. I tell him that for once it’s not in my head, it’s in my throat (is that technically part of the head?). It’s been getting worse, and I think it may be infected. I make it through the service. (I bet God knows I didn’t actually understand anything that was going on). My friend tells me to go home and see a doctor if it really is an infection. I am happy to report that my friends are generally people with some common sense, not the sort who hear sore throat and immediately think diphtheria.

Of course, I don’t see a doctor. I always feel like I should be sicker before I go. By Tuesday, I feel a lot better. I knew it! I wasn’t sick enough to see a doctor! Unfortunately, on Wednesday I didn’t feel quite so well. By Friday, I could barely talk and felt like someone was shoving an ice pick in my ear. I broke down and called the doctor. Turns out whatever was in my throat had decided to move into my ears. They were both infected. I had no idea adults even got ear infections (kinda stupid when I realized that I still get skinned knees and other things that adults should be ‘beyond’).

One of the things that causes problems with ear infections is drastic change in temperature (something about a change in pressure – I think I should have paid more attention in Physics). Working in and out of a cheese cooler is not optimal. So I took a day off. But it wasn’t because I had a cold.

3

I Wonder

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Who decided that the goalposts in football would be designated north and south?

Why is fresh good when you talk about fruits and vegetables but not when you talk about people?

On the freeway, why am I always behind the guy going 65 mph and in front of the guy who wants to go 75 mph? (and thinks that riding my bumper will somehow make the other guy go faster)

Who created the zipper? How did they get the idea?

Do stores really think that the number of people who buy tinsel between Halloween (or earlier) and Thanksgiving outweigh the number of people who are annoyed and avoid that whole side of the store? Besides, things are more expensive the first month than any other time of the season (nothing on sale yet).

I understand why some stores use background music as part of their brand, but what kind of brand is Wal-Mart trying to convey?

Is traffic congestion decreased enough to justify the rear-end collisions tension, and irritation at traffic round-abouts?

Why did I see Santa outfits for infants today next to adult Halloween sweaters? There’s a much better chance that I will still be the same size by Christmas than a baby.

When radio stations identify a song after a set, why is it never the song I didn’t know/can’t remember?

Do they eat Jordan almonds in Jordan?

Why do people who cut in line try to explain it by saying that they are in a hurry? Do they think the rest of us are there because we like to spend 20 minutes standing between people on their phones, arguing, or talking dirt about someone else?

Are road construction jobs paced to ensure full employment for the entire season? No matter when jobs are supposed to be done around here, it’s always at least a month longer. Maybe we don’t offer incentives for early completion in our county?

Why is there always an SUV parked in the compact car spot at my doctor’s office?

Why is the only time I am not tripping over a commissioned salesperson when I actually have a question or want to purchase?

0

They Missed Me!

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Today was my first day back after vacation. So I was excited, eager, and chomping at the bit. (Please don’t believe that.) But I was there 2 minutes before I had to clock in. As I wandered through the back room, I pondered the irony of Labor Day. Originally created to celebrate the value of the working (wo)man, it has become another one of the “three-day weekend” “holiday sale” days.  The power of our union was demonstrated in the “need” for us to work to supply the “needs” of the rest of the workforce on their day off. Walter Reuther would not be proud.

On the bright side, we are paid double time to work holidays. Probably because we have to work twice as hard to see half the results.

First thing off, I walk into the cooler and there are sheets taped to each of the many carts. Seems that while I was gone, the team leader had been in there and decided that we have too many carts. Not being able to move once you open the door was probably a clue. Now I have to sign and date the sheet after I have worked the cart so we will know which carts have been worked. Somehow this will lessen the number of carts in the cooler. Particularly since I am the only one working in there during the week. So I am leaving notes to myself telling me what I have been doing. Guess that’s why I’m not fast-tracking to management (a scary thought).

I go out to the floor and notice that we will soon have fewer carts in the cooler; there is very little merchandise on the shelves. Back in the cooler, I notice that all of the stuff still seems to be in the carts in the middle of the cooler rather than the carts on the sides (its new home). It seems that someone may have spent a little too much time organizing and not enough stocking? Just asking.

One interesting thing about Labor Day there – people seem to think of a trip to the store as a family outing. School starts tomorrow, so it’s one last opportunity to get everyone in the car and do this week’s grocery shopping and back-to-school shopping and summer close-out shopping. What happened to barbecues and a last trip to the lake? My kids give me a list of what they need, and I bring it home. All of us are much happier. (At least I think we are – we’ve never tried the shopping-as-bonding-time idea.)

So I drag a cart out and start stocking. By 7a there are several people shopping. It steadily increases as I keep working. These people are the ones who want to “beat the crowd”. Of course, other people have the same idea, so they all become the crowd. (If they really wanted to beat the crowd, they probably would have shopped at the end of last week – or tomorrow). Generally speaking, these are people doing their regular shopping, not just picking up a couple of forgotten items for the picnic. I can’t think of a better way to spend my last paid day off of the summer – set the alarm, get up early, and go grocery shopping.

My team leader comes by and tells me that the VP is coming tomorrow so I should make sure all the holes are filled. If she had actually looked at the displays, she would have realized that she was delusional. There were more holes than stock. But maybe you need to be in that position.

Because there was so much stuff in the cooler rather than the floor, I spent a large amount of time walking back and forth getting things that were waiting to be put out. By the same law that makes the only person in the aisle stand in the place you are working, the only thing a person wants is something that is neither on the cart you have on the floor or in its space. But at least it’s out of the cooler!

The faster I worked, the busier it got. At times, I couldn’t even get to a place to stock. I never got caught up. In fact, by the time I left it looked worse than when I got there. But I had gotten rid of some of the carts! Too bad there will be replacements tomorrow.

If they could get this organized while I’m gone for a week, it should only take a couple of weeks to get it back to its old, dysfunctional state. The one where I could find anything I needed when I needed it.

3

Have I Ruined my Kids for Tourism?

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I just got back from a vacation with my family. Basically being a slug, I had originally planned to go to the shore in Maine. I don’t know why, it just seemed like the thing to do. However, I realized that Maine is a long way from here, my kids don’t eat lobster, and I’m not really sure what else they do out there. So we decided to go to Williamsburg, VA, and the Smithsonian.

Being a history nut (I started out to get a degree in History but changed to Political Science because History majors have trouble finding jobs and Poli Sci majors are so much more marketable), it seemed like a good idea. The rest of the family thought so too. However, it seems that we have not done a good job in teaching our children to survive in the world of today’s tourists.

We have taught them that they should look at exhibits, ask questions if they have one, and move on. We wait patiently for the people ahead of us to move on and do our best to be polite. On this trip we discovered that these skills are no longer relevant, but the following skills are actually needed.

The ability to take as many pictures as possible of as many things as possible is important. It was tough to walk down the corridor between exhibition rooms at the Smithsonian without getting in the way of someone taking a picture of someone or something. It reminded me of the joke about the woman who couldn’t wait to get home to look at the pictures – she had been so busy taking them that she hadn’t had time to actually look at what was going on.

The best part was looking at the Hope diamond. It is displayed in a box which revolves so that it can be seen from all sides of the box. As I was getting close, I was pushed out of the way by a man who wanted to take a picture of it. Yes, actually pushed by a man who wanted to take a picture of something rotating in a bullet-proof box. It didn’t seem so strange after I noticed that I was the only one there without a camera. Seriously, you can get a better picture either in their magazine or on their website.

Maybe it’s just me, but it seems to me that looking at thousands of somebody else’s vacation pictures on their phone is not a huge improvement over them having you over for dessert and showing their slides. Or maybe it’s a way for guys to get a girl close to him (or vice versa).

From what I saw, parents no longer teach their children about what they are watching. The kids come in for a couple of minutes, look bored, and leave. Or they come in, the parents look bored, and leave (which may be why they are not teaching their children). I wonder if some of the families came so the kids would have something for their “What I did Over the Summer” essays other than “I slept til noon then played on the computer until midnight”. The teacher probably wouldn’t be interested in hearing 30 kids report on their mastery of Blackhawk Down.

Or maybe they thought the information would be absorbed by osmosis. I knew someone in Jr. High who believed that sleeping with the book would increase their knowledge of the subject. (I’m not sure how that worked out for them.)

Some of us no longer have the patience to listen to the docent/interpretive guide. We were in one building where the poor woman tried multiple times to start talking as people came in, but they all walked past. I would have been tempted to trip some of them. It was an old church, and I think it would have been particularly unexpected there. But that is why I am stocking cheese rather than standing in heavy 18th century clothing trying to talk to people who don’t want to listen. (I do sweat less.)

There was one huge advantage to not being up-to-date on public practices. We were practically the only people who actually stopped at each exhibit to read the signs, listen to the people, and ask serious questions. There really weren’t many people around for us to worry about blocking their view or slowing them down.

And I finally know the difference between a musket and a fowling piece (or fowler).

2

Is Shopping with Your Significant Other a Minefield?

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After observing what feels like a million people doing their grocery shopping, I have come to the conclusion that some people consider shopping a family activity. I am guessing that one spouse wants the other to go with/take the other shopping. Sometimes that makes two; sometimes it’s two + the children (most states have rules against leaving small children alone – some concern about the children setting the house on fire or drowning one another). The two-adult scenario is the one I am going to talk about.

First, a disclaimer: My husband and I try to never shop together. Early in our marriage (of course), we wanted to do everything together. Huge mistake. He is a comparison shopper and I want to get in and out as fast as possible. As long as the food looks like it will last until we eat it and the cans don’t bulge, I’m good. I think my time is worth more than knowing that we saved $0.25 on lima beans. (This could possibly be an ego thing on my part.) We decided early on that “divorce due to shopping style” would not look good on the papers going to the judge.

However, there are some reasons to consider that togetherness is the lesser of two evils. I have heard many variations of “My wife will kill me/yell at me if I don’t get the right kind.” They usually get on their phone just to make sure. Most times, it means he will recite the names of everything in that section so she can decide. We are talking about cheese. If you have this issue, perhaps you should buy something, apologize and  tell her that you made a mistake. Generally men will use this ploy in the hope that their spouse will get so frustrated that she will just do it herself next time. I have heard that this tactic is also used for dish washing, doing the laundry, and picking up the kids from wherever. It does not appear to work as well for women. They seem to tend more toward telling you that it’s OK, just write down what I want next time so you don’t make the same mistake. A variation on this is for the man to ask the kids what type mom gets, that way he can blame the child. After all, mom wouldn’t expect little Amy to know. But she would expect dad to know what type of mild he drinks. So it can backfire.

I have two favorites: 1) I can’t read my wife’s handwriting, can you? and 2) which type do you think my family/friends would prefer (generally a woman asking)? If you have been living with the woman, why would anyone be able to read what she has written better than you can? Between the two of us, we came up with something. Hopefully it was close to what she wanted (he didn’t have a phone). For the women, I generally tell them what I would buy. I always hope that their tastes are similar to mine, they write it off as a bad recipe, or they are too polite to say anything. I always wonder if the response is something like, “Ewww, this is terrible!! What were you thinking? I’m not eating that!” But since I don’t see them again, it’s not really my problem.

As far as reasons to not take anyone with you, my favorite is the couple who were looking for a block of cheese. He asks her if something OK. She replies, “Not that kind. I want Montgomery Jack.” I tell the man that we don’t sell Montgomery Jack. He tells her. She replies, “I only want Montgomery Jack.” I tell him that I’ve never heard of Montgomery Jack cheese, maybe she wants Monterey Jack. So he asks her if that is OK. She says, “I ONLY want Montgomery Jack. We’re going to have to go to the other store.” He looks at me and shrugs. I don’t know where she got it. I couldn’t find anyone who had heard of it. According to both Wikipedia and Google, it doesn’t exist. I’m guessing that if he had taken the Monterey Jack home and given her a piece without showing her the label, she would have been fine. Or thrown it at him.

Or maybe the couple who stood at the end of the aisle, and he asked his wife whether she wanted yogurt. She told him that she had gotten it a couple of aisles back. He asked her, “So why are we at this aisle?” She replies, “Why do you think we’re here? I want cheese.” He says, “How the hell would I know what you want?” She says, “I’m going to look for what I want.” He starts to follow her down the aisle. She looks annoyed. I tell her all men are like that. (Probably not, but it is my opinion on many occasions.)

Finally, the woman picks up something. He says, “We should get this kind.” She says, “But I don’t like that kind.” “But it’s cheaper.” “But I don’t like it.” He says fine and frowns as she throws it in the cart. She should have said that it wouldn’t really be cheaper because he would have to throw it out when she wouldn’t eat it and it got moldy.

So I don’t really have any advice. However, if you resemble any of these people, you might want to remember that someone might be watching. Then decide whether you might be offended if one of your friends reads it on a blog and says, “you know, that sounds just like you and Josh.”

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It All Started with Milk and Rennet

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When I started writing this blog, my son recommended that I shoot for a Scott Adams-level of snark (which may explain the noticeable male skew of the readership). However, today I want to try to emulate Richard Armour, my first (and possibly still) favorite humorist. He did his writing in the 1960’s and 1970’s, pre-irony and pre-snark, but it is still very clever. If there are any fans reading this, you may notice the title bears some resemblance to the titles of many of his books (It All Started with Stones and Clubs, It All Started with Hippocrates, It All Started with Eve, etc.)

Way back in time, actually before time if you use recorded history, some guy in a hot climate (we’ll call him Joe) was looking for a way to transport his milk (actually it probably came from a goat or a sheep).  Looking around, Joe realized that the thing he carried his water in would probably work for milk too. That thing was the stomach of an early cow relative. Fortunately, he had several loose ruminant organs lying around, being the Tupperware of their day. So he picked up a cow stomach, poured in the milk and went on his way to visit his hunting buddy, Eddie.

Having been quite a hike to Eddie’s over rough ground, the milk had spent a while sloshing around in the stomach. When Joe got to Eddie’s, he offered to share the milk. Imagine his surprise when he tried to pour it out and some mushy, whitish curds came out of the stomach instead. Joe looked at the mess and told Eddie to try it. Eddie, being a suspicious sort, told Joe to try it himself. Joe took a little and put it into his mouth. It tasted good! Joe had just discovered cheese.

Cheese was really the only way to keep milk in a hot climate. So why did the cow’s stomach allow the early civilizations to enjoy cheese instead of food poisoning? The magic ingredient of rennet. Rennet is a bunch of enzymes produced in any mammalian stomach (yes, we could use your stomach to make cheese, but you would probably rather keep it where it is). The enzymes cause the milk to separate into curds and whey. The curds are the cheese, the whey is what made Joe’s first cheese so mushy.

Concurrently, an ancient housewife was trying to figure out what to do with the milk that had gone bad in the sun and curdled. The saber-tooth tiger kitten walked away from it. She tried feeding it to her teen-age son, thinking that he would eat anything, but he refused. Finally she decided to add salt. Well, it covered the taste of the curdling. But it was just nasty to drink. So she pressed it between two rocks and, voila!, she discovered cheese. (I do not know why this would make it more palatable except it may have added the taste of the rock.)

The early cheese was a success nutrition-wise (or in contemporary thinking, it beat starving). But it was REALLY salty to last in the hot sun, and it was sour due to the curdling. Fortunately for us, cheese-making was also done in Europe, where it was much cooler. So they used less salt. Less salt meant more microbes and molds (yummy). If you don’t worry about moldy cheese, you can let it age (it gets better and better, doesn’t it?) As time progressed, the mold was cut off some cheeses (e.g., cheddar) and incorporated into others (e.g., bleu). There’s a British-French joke there somewhere, but I can’t find it.

Cheese making was pretty much a universal art (except in the orient – apparently they did not see the sense in eating salty, curdled, moldy milk). Without good transportation, most cheese-making remained local until recently (apparently cow stomachs have their limits when it comes to transporting cheese). Britain claims to have over 700 distinct varieties, France and Italy each claim over 400.

Fast-forward a few thousand years. Switzerland opened the first cheese factory in 1815 (making Swiss cheese?) But the Americans managed to turn it into an assembly-line process in 1851. A sweat-shop for cheese just sounds disgusting.

Moving forward, the scientists figured out how to mass-produce rennet in the 1860s and cows everywhere breathed a sigh of relief. By the turn of the century, those hard-working scientists had created pure microbial cultures which led to more standardized cheese – good for the manufacturer’s bottom line, not so good for the discerning diner.

And guess what standardized cheese led to? Processed cheese!! (aka process cheese, cheese slice, prepared cheese, cheese singles, and cheese food). Processed cheese is a food product made from “normal” cheese, emulsifiers (for smoothness in melting), extra salt (it’s back), food colorings, and flavors. They might also throw in some other unfermented dairy ingredients (I guess the dairy equivalent of animal by-product) or whey. I checked today, and cheese culture was the ninth ingredient in one brand of cheese slices.

Today more processed cheese is sold than “real” cheese. It’s lasts longer, doesn’t separate when melted, and is more uniform in look and taste. Joe and the housewife had no idea what they started.

*Information in this post is loosely based on an article in Wikipedia. So please don’t take any of it as fact.

2

You Call THAT Food?

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I know that I am getting old when I am surprised by some of what is available at the store:

Chicken and Waffle-flavored potato chips – people are really upset because they really taste like syrup. When did chicken and waffles become condiments rather than main dishes?

Spray cooking oil that contains flour – are there really that many people out there baking who don’t have enough spare flour on hand to coat the pan?

Pancake batter in a spray can – I guess it goes along with the pre-cooked bacon for those mornings you want a home-cooked breakfast but only have 15 minutes to get out the door.

Instant potatoes in a carton – all you do is add water, shake the carton, and pour the potatoes into the pan. Is that really an improvement over putting the flakes and water into a pan and cooking them? Does your dishwasher care that it has one fewer spoon in it?

Pre-made cheesecake filling – it says just pour it in a crust and you’re done. I’ve never tasted it, but I’m told it tastes fake. What a surprise for something that has virtually no natural ingredients in it.

Pre-cubed and cracker-cut cheese – unless you’re having a major party, it is going to be fresher (and cheaper) if you cut it yourself – but it won’t be as “cute” (just the word I look for in food)

Velveeta has become an industry – At one point in time, it’s claim to fame was that it melted smoother than cheddar. Apparently it didn’t melt fast enough, because they introduced Velveeta shreds. Then pre-melted Velveeta in foil that you just squeeze onto the food. All this for a product that is trying to convince us that it’s “real” cheese.

Imitation process cheese – process cheese is the step-child of cheese which lasts longer and melts more easily – imitation takes it one more step and removes the cheese entirely – really

No-fat, lactose free milk – it begs the question – once you’ve taken out the fat and the lactose is it still milk? Would any self-respecting cow still feed it to her child? There are all sorts of alternatives that are low-fat and lactose-free: soy, almond, coconut. Why not go for something with flavor and that you can’t see though if you hold it up to the light?

Phyllo dough has become filo dough – apparently we’re too dumbed-down to recognize it unless it’s spelled phonetically. Some people stick with “puff pastry”.

Neopolitan oreos – I thought it was wrong when they made mint oreos, but this is too far – there is no need for three types of filling in a cookie that most people could eat in two bites (and according to the commercials, only part of us take off the top to look at the creme anyway). Put it back where it belongs – in ice cream.

Girl-scout cookie flavored coffee creamer (with no cream) – I guess that coffee has gone from being something people wanted to drink because they like the taste to something that needs to be covered in sweetness so we can gag it down for the energy.

Pre-made iced tea – no not the stuff Lipton has been putting out since they figured out preservatives. Now you can get gallons of the stuff. I suppose it’s more important to save five minutes (and avoid digging out the pitcher) than to make than to flavor it to the tastes of the guests.

All of this ranting comes to you courtesy of the two people in one week who asked me to point out the “real” cheddar cheese. I thought they meant non-processed cheese product. No, they didn’t want sharp cheddar, they wanted real cheddar, the mild kind. It’s a good thing they weren’t around a while back, before “real” cheddar was invented.

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A Lesson in Economics

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I have been following the progress of the workers at McDonald’s trying to get the company to agree to pay a living wage. The company responded by posting a sample budget online showing how they could live on the wages they are currently getting paid. I thought the best part was the line item showing income from a second job. The budget is no longer available online.

I have no idea whether McDonald’s could afford to pay their employees more and still make a profit. However, the whole conversation made me think about life at Ralph’s (of course). The hourly pay scale tops out at $10/hour, with a couple of positions going to $11. The team leaders start at $10.50. Since it is a family-owned business, I can’t find out how much money the company makes.

So I’m trying fantasy economics (like fantasy sports, but less fun). Because I really hate math and accounting, I am not dealing with administrative and overhead costs, taxes, sales v. profit, or any of the other things that would actually make this a useful analysis. I am attempting humor after all, and it’s hard enough when you’re dealing with numbers.

The cheese I stock brings in an average of $6,000 – $8,000/day (insert joke about local bowel habits here). During the holidays and other busy times, it can earn twice that. I am the only employee in that section of the store. In the interests of fairness (probably the only time I will worry about it), I am going to use $7,000 as my basis. That equals $49,000/week or $2,520,000/year.

I wanted to have some type of comparison for the numbers, so I decided to look up some things that I could buy for $7,000.

I could get 3 pairs of Christian Louboutin Python pumps at Bergdorf Goodman ($1759 each). Unfortunately, I couldn’t wear them to work and I’m sure my friends wouldn’t know enough to be impressed.

Instead, I could get 3 Armina Aquamarine beaded necklaces ($1745 each). I really wish there was a Bergdorf’s around here. If I’ve calculated correctly, it would only take me 10 weeks to get the pumps and the necklace.

I could get 5 3.1 Phillip Lim Goat Fur satchel bags pink and black ($1395 each). Goats in New York must be different than the goats out here. Our goats come with hair not fur.

How about 12 Rebecca Taylor leather/ponte paneled dresses ($550 each)? I think it’s a regional thing. Even when I worked as a consultant, I would not have worn a $550 leather dress to work.

Every fashionable woman has heard of Hermes scarves. How about 6 cashmere and silk shawls ($1125 each). I would probably get toner on it the first time I wore it. You never hear about getting them cleaned.

If I went to Macy’s, I could get a nice 1 ct. t.w. diamond engagement ring. At $6900, it pushes the limits of the $7000, but it does come with a 15% discount. Of course, I’d have to figure out what to do with the old one (and explain to my husband why I needed to buy one for myself).

On a more humble note, I could get 700 dinners (mostacolli, lasagna, or chicken) at my local pizza place ($9.99 each). I might want to order a few less and get a few 2-liter bottles of Pepsi at $2.25 each. Besides I don’t know 700 people. And when my daughter eventually gets married, I imagine she probably will want something different for dinner.

So, I’m thinking that maybe raising my ceiling to $11/hour might be a financial possibility. Or more realistically, I should probably start buying lottery tickets.

1

The Peasants are Rioting in the Streets

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It is doubtful that Marie Antoinette ever said, “Let them eat cake.” For one thing, by the time things were quiet enough to write things down, everyone who would have been present had been separated from his/her head and was unable to verify the quote. It’s too bad they didn’t have Facebook (the Queen sounds like the type who would have loved tagging pictures). It appears that things stay on there forever.

The exchange kept coming to mind last week at work. You may recall me talking about a woman who was told that she couldn’t take a vacation because they are too short-staffed in the deli. She has chosen to retire at the beginning of December. She’s decided that if they are that short-staffed, once winter arrives she’ll be stuck by herself on the days when everyone else is either sick or staying home because of the snow . I’m guessing that was not the company’s goal when they denied the vacation.

I learned that a couple of Saturdays ago, they were short-staffed (surprise!!), There were only three people on the counter, scheduled in such a way that one person would be alone at the end of her shift. It was so busy, that they weren’t able to take their breaks. When they called management to say they needed coverage for lunch, management told them to stay on the counter. The best part was that the team leader left before noon because she had to go to a birthday party. (They probably ate cake.)

The union steward reprimanded the team leader and manager. I’m sure the employees felt much better knowing that management is now aware that employees should be allowed to go to lunch. Apparently, Ralph’s does not know that the Department of Labor also has an issue with making people work for 8 hours without a break. (I think France had indentured servants prior to the Revolution, so we’re still on track).

Moving on to Tuesday, one of the male stockers came in and said he needed the rest of the week off because his grandmother was having surgery (that’s more time than he would have gotten if she died). The team leader said he would have to tell the manager, apparently thinking this would dissuade him from leaving. The manager looked at him in disbelief and let him go. I guess the way to get time off is just to say you are going.

He decided that he could be back on Friday.  The team leader switched the other stocker’s day off from Wednesday to Friday to cover. When the first stocker came back, he was angry because he didn’t have any help on his busiest day. Guess he didn’t get the message about being short-staffed. He lost all sympathy when we discovered that the surgery was for a knee infection, not something life-threatening. The team leader lost all sympathy when she welcomed him back like a returning hero.

One of the people who needs to keep filling the staffing holes has a job similar to mine, except in the “fine” cheese (you can pronounce all the ingredients, but not the names of the cheeses). The team leader kept asking for “favors”. Finally the woman ignored one of the “requests”. The team leader told her she had to see the manager NOW. I guess it’s like being sent to the principal’s office.

Finally, I was sick on Thursday (one point on my record, no pay). Of course, no one could cover. On Friday, the manager comes by and says that the vice-president is expected and I need to fill in the holes before I do anything else. I’m not sure what he meant – the whole section was holes. Not that it matters. In the (almost) two years I’ve been there, she has never even looked in my direction on one of her tours. And she didn’t look this time either.

I really think all we need is a leader and something to tear down.

 

 

 

 

1

“Earned” Vacation

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So far, it has taken me three months to get permission to be gone five days. In May, I left a note for the previous team leader that I wanted to go on vacation at the end of August. The next day, she tells me she’s seen the note and it looks OK to her but she needs to double-check the vacation schedule. I assume everything’s fine (yes I can still be that naive). She goes on a medical leave for stress, comes back for a couple of weeks and quits. Just prior to her last day (first week in July), she tells me that because the vacation ends two days before Labor Day, I need to have her boss authorize it. He says it’s fine and takes the request (end of the process, right?).

I ran into my (new) team leader in the ladies’ room yesterday. She told me that we needed to talk about my vacation. We work a few hundred yards apart – she waits until now to talk to me? I realize that it’s called a rest room, but that’s just a polite term for what it really is. Once you’re out of high school, who wants to spend more time in there than you have to?

She starts out by telling me that it hasn’t been approved yet. She said she had to approve it (but there wouldn’t be a problem with that), and then her boss would have the option to reverse that approval. I told her that I had already talked to her boss. She said that didn’t matter, SHE had to approve it and would look into it that afternoon. So apparently she signs off, tells him, he thinks about it and says, “Wow, this looks kinda familiar, did I say yes or no when Cat asked?”

I have not taken a vacation in several years. The last time, all I had to do was tell the boss when I wanted to go, when I wanted to come back, and wait for them to say yes or no. At most places, it was just a formality. Who would have thought it would be tougher to give time off to someone who moves boxes and merchandise from place to place than to someone who is responsible for making sure a new client relationship starts out on the right foot? I guess I really am vital to the organization (please do not spit whatever you are drinking at the screen).

I complained about this to a work-friend (sometimes they’re better than real-world friends since you don’t have to spend 10 minutes setting the situation). She says to keep on top of it. One of the other women in the deli has been told that she cannot take a vacation between now and the end of the year because they are under-staffed. They seem to be positive that they will not be adequately staffed at any point during the next four months. (December doesn’t count in retail – no one goes anywhere.) Is it her fault that it’s such a miserable place to work that they can’t keep employees?

I guess I’m probably not being fair. We’ve had people out this summer for a broken rib, heart problems, and shoulder surgery. How can we be sure that no one is going to suffer some horrible accident in the near future and mess up our staffing again? After all, one woman is pregnant, and she’s probably going to want time off too.