Weiner of a Job!

Remember how I just started working for Sparky's, the hot dog cafe?

Well, no more!!!

The owner and boss who I always seemed to have communication problems with, failed to tell me a few vital things, one of which I'll get to soon. After I trained at the Williamsburg location that one day he called me several days later and asked me to train at the Manhattan location the next week. He let me know that is was a smaller, quieter business. I nodded to this, accepting this offer. When I got there for the first of my two shifts for that week it was a noisy mess! I was bombarded my noise pollution from the following: the subway that ran directly under the shop, the five lanes of continuous horn-honking taxi traffic right outside the door, loud crying babies who wouldn't eat their hot-dogs, and crappy top 40 radio music being pumped out on the stereo. I couldn't hear anything over this roar! Everyone, be it the guy who trained me or the rude customers, seemed to get upset that I had have them repeat themselves in order for me to hear them.

Alright, I thought, I can maybe learn to live with the noise. I was just being a pussy. It's a job and I can live with it. But then it got worse! Not only did I have to put up with all the sounds and rumblings of the city I had too listen to the guy who was training me as he would sexually harass me! WTF! When I first met him, he seemed pleasant and he almost seemed to whisper whenever he talked. But then I figured out some of the things he was saying to me! I asked him to stop, but he wouldn't stop. He asked me weird questions about fingers (you don't want to know!) and if I ever slept with black people. I told him it was none of his business. He wanted me to stay past my shift so I could go home with him when his shift was done. I said no way! He slipped me his phone number when he handed me my share of the tip money. Yikes!

Then I found out that everyone got paid that day...and I didn't. Supposedly, as my harrasser told me, nobody gets paid for training shifts. I thought, "Bull roar!" So, I left that night, knowing I was blowing this stupid hot-dog stand! I gave the weasel owner a chance to pay me or tell me what's up. I've called, emailed, and left messages about my money but no word back from him. So screw him and his lousy business. I'd rather be poor then work for that greedy, money-swindling jerk.

Grrrrrr!!!!!


Robin: Holy Frankfurters!!! Titans, stop everything! I hear that Jeffrey P. Worthen didn't get paid! Looks like we have a case!