The song I’m listening to: Rock Steady by Aretha Franklin
I’m getting fired up for work and I don’t know if I’ll actually finish out a night there. There is a good chance I might get fired tonight for speaking out, but I have to do it. A bar waitresses job is a rough one, but I do it because the money is good. . . and that’s the only reason. Here’s what I have to deal with the nights I work:
- Sexual Harassment: Men who think they can call you anything, grab at you, try to kiss on you, and dance with you. They do it because they know you’re working for a tip and it’s their job to “make it rain.”
- My Boss: Fires people because she’s having a bad day. When she’s having a red wine night, everyone is one their guard. We sometimes don’t know how we’re getting paid; checks might come three or four weeks at a time and she’s counting on us not minding because the paychecks are shit anyway.
- Illness: I’ve been the most ill in my life while working at this bar than any other time in my life. I’ve had cold after cold, flu, bronchitis and pleurisy (not making that one up) and I’ve been afraid to take off because that could mean automatic firing.
So there! The last draw is being asked to work St. Patrick’s Day for 15 hours. Come in at “Oh I don’t know, 11 or 12 and just stick around.” When I asked her what “stick around” meant, She said that it meant until close (3:30 AM)
There are four waitresses, and she wants two to come in early, while two come in later. That should cover things. Well, I’m sure it does, but none of us want to work overtime (with no overtime pay) on the rowdiest night an Irish pub will have in a year.
I’m going to be plain with her tonight. I can work, but not like a dog. I’m getting ballsy to Aretha Franklin. I know for sure she wouldn’t take no labor inequality shit! Wish me luck, readers. One of your bloggers might not be employed come tomorrow. For now let’s get Rock Steady!