I stopped by the File City Maid Cafe last night after working a shift at Chuck E. Cheese's to get my final check from them. It wasn't technically worth it since it was only for a single four hour shift that I worked, but fuck it. I'm poor and every little bit helps.
If you hadn't read my last entry, here's a quick refresher: they fired me after I got a second job after three years of working for them because the giant steel walk-in door fell off the hinges (which it's done before, because it's broken and the repairman they always pay to fix shit hasn't ever actually fixed anything in his life.)
I went there and saw some of the people I used to work with for the last time. When you don't work there anymore and you're coming for your last check, they expect you to stand in line and ask the employees to go fetch it for you. But since I got so motherfucked (not just the firing, but also the three straight years of abuse that I didn't deserve.) that I walked straight into the back, grabbed my check myself and left. I also threw the rubber band on the floor because I'm an agent of chaos.
It is amazing to me though. I went from being told how much I suck, how nothing I do is good enough despite the fact that I worked my ass off for them to basically run an entire restaurant by myself because I had to be a waitress, make food, clean everything, etc. in a place that literally does like 30 customers every hour who are all slow as fuck and don't even know what they want to this new job being praised like I'm the second coming of Jesus.
Seriously. My new boss called me "amazing", "a rock star", etc. and gave me a full time schedule because she said I'm such a hard worker I deserve it. That's a pretty intense shift from when the Chihuahua and her butch lesbian apprentice who would insist that I'm not doing enough because I couldn't always flawlessly do THEIR jobs for them. Seriously. Any time they had to do ANYTHING that's ACTUALLY their job description, they'd get pissed off at me for not having it all done for them in advance even though none of it was actually my responsibility.
In classic abuse victim fashion, I started to believe them when they said this shit even though other people who worked with me would always point out that it's fucked up and that I'm being treated beyond unfairly by all four of them: the Chihuahua manager, the irresponsible blob of shit that they call an assisant manager who calls out every other day but still gets nonstop favor from the owners and of course the owner himself and his stupid fat old wife who can't go a week without collapsing or tripping or falling or something. The fact that she's not dead is amazing, and proof that there's no God.
The point of this entry is this: don't let people abuse you. It doesn't matter if you think you deserve it or whatever. That's just the situation breeding itself inside your mind.
If you're in a shitty situation, do your best to get out of it.