So apparently I passed the drug test. I started working at the golf course a couple weeks ago, and I loathe it (Mom doesn't like when I say that I "hate" things). Don't get me wrong... The job is a cinch. I load up the cart, drive around all day, smile, wave, sell some brews and the occasional Powerade, and then unload and put my sales into the computer. If I'm lucky, I come out of the day with at least $20 in untaxable income. That's the good part.
The bad part is the management. I report to six bosses who, based on my whole two weeks of experience, don't communicate with each other very well. They're all wonderfully nice, they just really don't seem to have their shit together. For example, our week runs from Friday to Thursday, as opposed to the conventional Sunday to Saturday, or even Saturday to Friday, schedule. At any job you would expect to know your schedule at least a week ahead of time. For some reason, I don't find out if I have to work on Friday until one day, or if I am lucky, two days, before.
Now, I don't think I am being unreasonable here, but this girl has a life. I like to go out with my friends. I even like to spend time with my family (don't judge me). And I understand that sometimes work comes first and my social life will occasionally suffer. But ask anyone, I have a minor case of OCD, and I kind of need my plans. I like to know what I am doing. Spontaneity is great and all, but it usually ends in a total clusterfuck, and I need my plans. That being said, how the hell am I supposed to make any plans whatsoever when I don't know if I have to work on Saturday until the Thursday before? What the eff.
I have realized that the real world is more my style. Like I've said before, I graduated college wanting to work. I showcased my talent with two awesome internships, and in line with my OCD comes my need for structure and a 9 to 5 job. Not to mention, lately I have been hearing all sorts of things that make an office job sound pretty awesome.
Take Scott: Somehow we got on the topic of work. He informs me that his biggest requirement is that he is there by 9 and doesn't leave before 5, but as long as he does that, he can take a two hour lunch. I don't know for sure, but I think I got the short end of the stick. On Sunday, I worked from 9:30 to 7, and took a 10 minute lunch. What's wrong with this picture?
And then there's Blake: A couple weeks ago, he had so little to do at work, he almost caught a flick (Tropic Thunder, to be exact). He figured that would be slightly irresponsible, so he went to H&M and bought a few shirts instead.
Now I'm not knocking these guys. Rather, I'm jealous. Yes, I work as a beer bitch, but I'm also working my ass off at this stupid job that pays me peanuts, and I'm obviously not having near as much fun as these office job stiffs. Fuck this shit. I just want a real job. One that requires business cards. And self-respect.
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As a sidebar, may I please mention that at 5:30pm on Wednesday, they still do not have our schedule together, and I do not know if I will be working on Friday. This is retarded.
If it's any consolation, I have an office job and it pretty much blows.
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