Check this out.
It was February 2006 and I had just returned to the city a month ago after breaking up from my then boyfriend who thankfully lived at the other side of the country. (Means I won't accidentally bump into him at least!) I had just come back to the city of my birth and I had nothing but my clothes and a few tacky souvenirs. I was sleeping on my mum's couch and I knew I needed a job. After endless searching, applying, signing myself up to every agency that existed, I had almost given up hope that I would ever find a job and would remain penniless, and 21, sleeping on the sofa.
Wallowing in my own despair, I barely registered the phone ringing but as if on auto pilot I answered it. My facial expression of self loathing and pity changed suddenly into a grin, then a smile, and then a full blown wail of happiness as the person on the other end of the phone told me that I had a temping assignment to start the next day. Ok not much but she informed me it was a 12 week trial thing leading to a permanant job. Keep my nose clean and I was in there. I put the phone down and kicked and punched the air, pure elation on my face and happiness in my heart and soul. I called my mum who was pleased I was one step further to getting off her sofa, and for the rest of the day I was on cloud nine, not even flinching when my brother informed me he had been using my Manolo Blahniks as aeroplanes and had accidentally broken the heel. So what? I had a job now I could buy some more!
Fast forward 10 months to the present day.
I am sitting in my rented house, stressed, balding, knees to my chest, rocking backwards and forwards, wondering what I did to make God hate me so much, writing this blog for you all to read.
The job started fine. I was the new girl and everyone was nice to me. I was the temp so nobody took that much bother getting to know me but I didn't care because I had a job. There were friendly smiles all round, 'whoops, aww its ok dont worries' when I made mistakes, and good old hospitality all round.
I passed my 12 weeks and was given a start date when I would become permanent. 1st June. Life was good, everyone I worked with was old, but I could do the job and they were all nice to me.
June 1st came around, and I got out of bed in the morning knowing I was no longer in the 'temp' zone but now a fully fledged permanent employee earning a salary. Woohoo! I got ready and strolled into work. I saw my supervisor who at 40 years and 3ft 11 has been medically classed as a dwarf, the 35 year old overweight sales admin woman flitting around, the sulky retail assistant moving around, the disabled boss pushing himself around on his crutches, and the retail manager sat at his desk hilighting random things on paper. I was randomly called into the managers office. He informed me that now I was his employee I would do things his way, no room for mistakes, no pratting around, no clock watching, head down work done time. Uh Oh. And from that day, knowing that they had me for good and I was theirs to do with what they wanted, everything changed and I saw the REAL side to working with this bunch of circus freaks.
I have nothing against people with dwarfism at all, they are people just like everyone else. But I DO have something against my supervisor.
Having worked there for 21 years, this has been her first and only job and having the word supervisor in her title makes her think she has the right to boss people around and do less work than us all. And you do not want to be on the receiving end of one of her (regular) explosions. About 34 times now I have hidden under my desk as In-Trays have gone flying, pens have been chucked around the room, printers have been smashed, filing cabinets have been tipped over, fax machines have been destroyed and a window was even smashed one time. On many occasions however, having not been quick enough to make it under my desk I have had rulers, A4 binders, pencils, books, keys, basically any object she could pick up, thrown at my head. I went to the boss one day after a 2inch thick folder was thrown at me to try and complain but I was told off! I have the unfortunate disadvantage in that my job description says 'ad-hoc' duties. Basically at my place that means having all the jobs that nobody else wants to do dumped on my desk and expected to be finished by the end of the day. And this has happened. Once I had 10 different tasks from all departments on my desk, each idiot expecting them asap, on top of my own job to do. I had to put in 6 hours of unpaid overtime to reach the deadlines and still got shouted at the next day because my eyes were black and I was barely awake.
I have also been subject to office bitchiness. Everyone at the company is at least 15 years older than me, and take it upon themselves to treat me as a child, even though I have just recently turned 22. I'm not invited to work nights out, social gatherings, anything like that - probably good because these lot are terrible when sober and I dread to think what they are like when drunk. Eww.
Things are blamed on me because I have nobody to stick up for me, people confide in me of their hatred for other employees, and then I am called into the bosses office, just as the person who bitched to me is leaving, and I am told off for gossiping. Well excuse me. I dont gossip and even if I did I wouldn't tell these people anything!
And I'm not asking for a Certificate of Excellence but it would be nice to get a 'thank you' or a pat on the back when I have got through my mountain of tasks.
The days grew longer, the unpaid overtime added up - hell if I was paid for it I would have earnt three times my annual salary by now. And thats another thing. I am paid peanuts to sit in a dingy office surrounded by people who wouldnt be out of place in jail cells, to be used as a punchbag, an office clown, and a dumping ground for work other people dont want to do. whilst all the time getting told off. I can't count the times my supervisor has brought papers to my desk for me to sort, only to 'accidentally' drop them just before she reaches my desk, and demanding I get on my hands and knees and pick them all up. Guess it was my fault, the desk must've moved.
Ever heard of a Christmas bonus? Its what these employees live for. However upon receiving my pay packet this November I realised I'd been short paid. Attached to our payslips was a note from the Financial Director (who drives a Lambo by the way) saying that because we hadn't reached predicted profit targets for this year, not only were we not getting a bonus but our pay was being docked.
So I'm getting paid less than minimum wage, my eyes are tired, my skin is pale, I'm stressed, my hair is falling out, Im 22 but I feel like I'm ready to retire, and I'm wondering if this is me for the rest of my life.
As if.
I gathered all the little strength I have left in my abused by work body and I've managed to score myself another job. Starting in the New Year, It's paying twice what I'm on now with a great firm that cares about its employees, and the workload is about a third of what I do now.
I wish I could see the look on their clown like faces when I take Christmas early and just never come back. Basically, my job is centrifugal to the operation of the company. They treat me like shit but without me, their workloads would increase by at least half and they'll have to do all those jobs themselves!
So here's to all my fellow bloggers, who all feel the pain of crappy underpaid overworked and abusive jobs. I understand, hell do I understand, and this Christmas I will be raising a glass to you all and wishing you all the best of luck in screwing all your bosses over in the way they have done to you, and finding yourself a better job.
Signing off xxx
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