I may just be too old for this. It’s 3:30 a.m. and I just walked in from day two of my new job. Damn. I’m. Tired. And that’s the understatement of the century.
My work day started out just as frustrating as the others. Samantha was no where to be found when I got there, all though she did arrive about 30 minutes later. They had no idea who was training me. I still don’t have a complete uniform, although I’ll be tested on what exactly that is on Monday. I’m still not in the computer system so who knows whether I’m actually going to get paid for this or not. And of course no one did anything about any of this until the last minute and then they all ran around like chickens with their heads cut off. And just for the record. Samantha has the personality of a rock. And that’s being kind.
I finally got a schedule out of her. I’ve been trying for the past three days to find out what days I’m working, what time I’m working and how long I have to train. So I finally cornered her tonight and made her decide. She explained that I had to do six training sessions and that even though I was an old employee I still had to do it all. She said she was as stickler for every employee going through the full training schedule. This is kind of funny, because it’s the third time I’ve trained with this company, and as of yet I’ve never done the full training sessions. So I ask if I could do it over the next six days. Straight through no breaks so I could get trained and put on the floor making money. She hesitated but finally said okay.
And my shift started. The woman training me is quite good, although she’s a little too “by the book” for me. There are no hard and steadfast rules when you are dealing with the public. You get about 6 seconds when you walk up to the table to figure out what they are going to be like. Are they bitchy. Fun. Angry. Easy Going. It’s impossible to tell until you get there and start to talk to them. Unfortunately, Ms. Trainer believes that every table should be treated the same. And so I tried to do that, knowing that in a week when I’m on my own it won’t be that way at all. That being said, she knows her stuff. And I learned a lot tonight. I actually handled her entire station for most of the night. I only needed help a couple of times for the most part.
At the beginning of the shift she had me set goals as to what I was going to accomplish for the night. How many desserts could I sell? How many side items? How many this? How many that? I thought it was kind of silly, so I chose high. I added about 15 to what I really thought I could get. She was a little annoyed with me, and told me to be more reasonable. I then replied with a “why not shoot high. What’s the worst that could happen.” When it was all said and done I met every goal by several items except for one. And in that case I was short one dessert. She was more than impressed with my abilities.
At the end of the night, I had to meet with Samantha. She sat down with me, and proceeded to tell me what a wonderful job I was doing. So much so that she’s changed her mind and I WON’T have to do the fulling training schedule. I guess that makes me three for three. Yippee!
So I’ll be done on Monday, and if I pass the test I can start working on Tuesday. Which will be great since I’ve had no income since July. I’m starting to get a little poor.
An an entirely different note. Years ago I worked out at a World’s Gym just north of SOHO in the Village. It was a small gym, but great equipment. The nice thing about it was that it wasn’t crowded and it had the best scale for weighing yourself I’ve ever seen. The scale is about 6 feet tall, with a huge dial that turns when you step on it. There’s no way to adjust it so it always reads the correct weight. Long story, short.
(I know it’s too late for that.)
I decided to work out at that gym today. That location was bought by New York Sports Club several years ago, so my new gym membership works there. The reason I went was because I wanted to weigh myself. My home scale is about as reliable as the weather. I can weigh myself five times and get five different readings with almost a ten pound variance. It’s a little frustrating when every ounce is important to you. So I got to the gym and weighed myself. My weight was exactly what I thought it would be, which made me happy. More importantly though, the gym was empty. There were only two people lifting weights and about 3 or 4 doing cardio. This excites me, because I get nervous thinking about lifting in a crowded gym with a bunch of ripped muscles boys. This way I can lift, and not be embarrassed because it’s only 5 pounds and can really start to get back into the swing of things. This gym is a little out of my way, but in the big scheme of things if I’m more comfortable working out there it seems to me that it’s the right choice. So that’s what I’ll be doing from now on.
A Maddog In The City 