| COMMENTARY PAGE |
| 07/09/01: Wank vs. Wank Okay, read the above title for this commentary and absorb it - there is a whole lot of wanking gonna take place in this week's commentary column, so if you don't want to hear me going off about how great I am, then you better skip this week, cuz I got a whole lotta pride to get off my chest this time around. Now, for those of you who know me on a very personal level, you realize by now that just because I don't like someone, doesn't mean I can't sympathize or empathize with them. It doesn't mean that I can't appreciate their position/situation and hold them in just the slightest bit of "respect". But there's a point to which I'll take it before I start to get just a bit pissed off. Now, as you all probably realize by now, there is someone whom I'm about to talk about that fits this description - someone with whom I used to sympathize with on a small but significant scale, but whom I'm about to fully turn on, and completely tear apart. That person? My boss, Cameron. Now, I've never liked Cameron, to be honest. Never. At first, I gave him benefit of the doubt - I figured that my hatred is the natural employee/manager relationship, and that he's no different from any other manager out there. And even now, I will give him benefit of the doubt, saying that he's not particularly the boss from hell, it's just that he's there at work, open to close, 7 days a week, while most managers aren't exactly as omnipresent like Cameron is. But one true-blue fact that I will not back down from - my boss is omnipresent, and is morale poison. Hell, the ONE time when he actually left the store for about 3 hours, not only were all the workers so happy, wearing ear-to-ear smile (myself in particular), but everything became so much more efficient, and the shop became a very well-oiled machine that ran smoothly. Smoothly, as opposed to confused, rushed, and inefficient, which is how things are when Cameron is around. But what gets me the most is this - he's a complainer. And I mean, a COMPLAINER. I mean, sometimes, the squeaky wheel gets the grease - there's a time and place for vocalizing your discontent, or else you'll never get what you want. I'm not saying I never complain, but I only complain when it is relevant, and when the complaint has some form of bearing on the situation. Now, what's been going on at work for the past month and a bit is that my manager would complain about a couple of recurring themes - number one, that he doesn't make all that much money as the store manager, and number two, that he doesn't get many days off. Now, at first, I could sympathize with this. In fact, with my experiences, I could empathize, as well. But Cameron took his complaints a bit too far, and has started using them as weak excuses as to why others should feel sorry for him. First of all, if you want sympathy from someone, don't ask for it. Second, sympathy would come a lot easier towards a sympathetic character, and not towards someone who has never e-e-ever taken staff morale into consideration while running the shop. So now, every payday, you ask for your cheque and you're greeted with a "As a manager, I don't get a paycheque, but nobody cares about me, do they?" You ask for a day off and he says "I've been working here 7 days a week since April, without a day off, so I don't see why you should complain." In fact, he'll even ask you how I'm doing, mentioning that I look tired, I say "yeah", and he goes on about how he's worked since April, blah blah blah. Okay, first of all, he's had more than one day off. I know it's a petty point, since he does, normally, work 7 day weeks, at well over full time hours, but just to be picky, there have been a couple of days when the concession stand has had to close down due to bad weather. But more importantly, he doesn't have chronic fatigue, the way I do. I wake up in the morning after a good night's rest with about the same amount of energy he has when going to bed after a long day. Every morning that I have to wake up earlier than 10am, I'm so exhausted that I almost cry, even if I had 8 hours of sleep - that's what chronic fatigue is, and there's nothing I can do about it. Add on top of that the fact that after I get up, I have to walk for about an hour and a half, covering over 60 blocks distance in order to get to work, only to work at a job where I'm required to be on my feet for the entire shift, which have, on occasion, reached 10 1/2 hours, working through my breaks. And after all that, they lose my paycheque. That's right, the City of Vancouver has LOST my paycheque. And when I started to complain about it, what do I get? "I've worked here since April getting only one day off, and I never collect a paycheque." Boo fuckin hoo! Okay, now it's time for me to turn to "Super-pissed off, bitter mode". First of all, I never asked to be the store manager, and I never would have accepted the position if I wasn't making steady hourly wages. So if he's not making very much money, I don't care, cuz it's not my concern - I signed on at the agreement that I'll be working for minimum wage, and I want my goddamn $7.60 an hour when paycheques arrive! And the icing on the cake? He has literally chosen the WRONG guy to complain to, because what he's going through, I've gone through worse. He says he's worked through from April till now? With June having just recently ended, that means that he's worked 3 months so far. If this guy complains about three months of work, then he's never been to university, ESPECIALLY not under the FPA faculty. For instance, as a stage manager, I'd very often have to show up at school for a class at 9:30am. It takes me an hour and a half at least, to bus out to school, so I'm usually out of the house at 7:30am on these days, to make sure I get there on time. Then, I leave the school at about 10:30pm, sometimes much later, and bus back for about 2 hours to get home. Rinse, repeat. This schedule, in particular, refers to the schedule I've had as a Stage Manager during my third year. For about four months, my life was dominated by school - I was either in class, or I was busting my ass in the theatre. And as a Stage Manager, I always had worker morale as my top priority. I would personally show up during the hang-and-focus sessions, which the stage manager isn't required to be at, and I would play music as the workers worked, to help boost morale. Now, true enough, there was one or two workers who actually did not appreciate what I was doing, and I humbly apologized and downplayed myself. And once I realized that there were people who felt that morale would be better with my absence rather than presence, I made sure that I limited my involvement to only what was absolutely necessary. Bottom line is - I, as well, was working full-time hours, 7 days a week, with absolutely no pay, and I never complained about it until now, and I never demanded sympathy from anyone because of it. In fact, because the experience was for university, one could argue that I was paying money for the priviledge of working these long hours. The previous semester wasn't too much better, as I was working basically 7 day weeks for 3 months, with maybe two off-weeks when I only had class to worry about, and minmal (but not non-existent) out-of-class work. Oh, and let's not forget my volunteer work that I did throughout April, where I worked like a dog for a production during a time when I was sleeping in fire escapes and hardwood floors, and the only thing I was earning for my work was a sofa to sleep on , a fistful of cigarettes, and the odd beer, though the latter two I would often pay for myself, anyway. I was, at that time, living off of 5 dollars a day to feed myself, while during the day I would be hammering away in a workshop, doing set construction, etc. So, I'm terribly sorry if you have to work a lot and not get paid very much, Cameron, but I've been there before, so don't try that shit on me. And then you go on about how much you want to quit, but are devoted to your work? Have you ever had a huge gob or boiling hot oil burn your hand to a crisp, but continue to work the remaining 4 hours of your shift in spite of the searing pain? That happened about a week ago at the very store you run, and it was on your account that I didn't get a chance to treat my oil burn in a timely fashion, and now my hand is hideously scarred, so don't talk to me about devotion. Have you ever severely twisted your ankle, but you couldn't let your friend down, so you went ahead and got up on stage for your cameo appearance in a free-admission show in spite of the discomfort, knowing full well that your procrastination towards getting the ankle treated will result in irreparable damage? Well guess what, Cameron, but my ankle's never been the same after Black Box 2000. Have you ever subjected yourself to physical pain for a home-movie role, pick yourself up out of the mud with a hyper-extended thumb, stiff neck and sore lower back, and go to work 10 minutes later? Sorry, Cameron, but the last few years of my life has only ever been about sacrificing my mind and body for greater goods. And not only have I not complained about it until now, but I'm still not complaining about it - I'm fucking proud. Back to home |