Wednesday, October 22, 2008

thanks for that

The place I worked till recently is in the Old City, one of the oldest parts of our town, the place that was once known as the bowery, the place that was built on a swamp, the place that people from the west side of town think is full of whores and pickpockets and muggers and . . .

You get the picture.

I may be forgetting somewhere, but counting in my head I've come up with at least nine different restaurant/bars, though only one of them is my usual, my default, my watering hole. It's been a place that has been friendly to me over the years.

Rewind your calender to a mere few days ago when I was there, early in the evening, the only (and I do mean only) customer sitting at the bar. The place does decent business later at night, but I was there early. The only people besides me at the bar were the owner and the bartender.

I worked at this place for a couple of weeks before taking a better paying/more hours job at the place I worked till recently, and all of this really is part of the point. I really am going somewhere with this.

I quit this bar on decent terms, giving them a full two weeks notice, and the owner seemed pleased with my work. He and I, while not bosom buddies, have remained on fairly friendly terms. I stop when I see him, he stops, we chat for a moment, hail and farewell and all that shit.

So back to sitting solo at the bar, and I'm talking to the owner. He inquires about the job and how I like the place I left him for, and without giving it too much thought I give him my honest opinion.

-the place isn't being run well
-the owners don't really know what they are doing
-the son of one of the owners who does the day to day running of the business is a dumbass and doesn't quite pay attention to what he needs to be doing
-they neglect the many years of experience the kitchen staff has and choose to run the place poorly
-they won't be open a year from now
-the prices are much too high for the location
-they've priced themselves out of business
-they are resorting to some questionable specials in order to try to make money

That last one I will use as an example of what is so wrong with the place. Picture if you will a restaurant trying to be a slightly upscale version of a British pub. Now imagine if you will that they institute a "ladies night" to attempt to bring in business. Yeah, that kind of thing.

Apparently the ex-boss ran into my more new ex-boss at a city council meeting and, in front of any number of local bigwigs and wannabes, told him all that I said. New ex-boss decides to let me go, and he does it in a way in which one can certainly be proud. He took me off the schedule and then said absolutely nothing to me about it.

So how did I found out I'd been fired? After dropping Momma off at work this morning, as I was about to pull away from the place, I realized her phone had slipped out of her pocket. I turned the car off, walked inside to find her and decided to look at the schedule. I was not on it. I don't mean my name and schedule were crossed off, as usually happens when someone gets fired from a restaurant. They completely remade the schedule so that my name didn't even exist.

Several hours later an ex-coworker called to tell me that, indeed, I had been let go. It was then that I heard the story I just related. I was fired because one ex-boss ran his mouth and made a joke out of what I'd told him, me assuming some amount of something not unlike confidentiality. My new ex-boss was quite embarassed, or so I was told. In a rousing feat of standing up and being a man he had someone else do his dirty work and actually call me and speak to me personally.

The sad part, beyond that my newest ex-boss is what we often call a bitch, a friend with no reason to have to was the person to relay the news, a friend with enough issues of his own regarding this place, who has already been screwed over by my new ex-boss. Yeah, he had to start his day like that.

That's my story for the day. It isn't a pretty story, but, all things considered, what's one more weight piled onto me? I'm sure I can take more. I'm not broke enough.

And to the sorry ass that fired me, sorry Mr. N that your pride got hurt, but seriously, you have no more business running a restaurant than I have performing surgery.