It was the beginning of January and one of my New Years resolution was to get a job. So I went one day and applied to a few different places: Subway, McClains, and Kazoku sushi.
I went into Subway, walked up to the counter and asked for an application. Mike, the owner, handed one to me and asked me to fill it out there. When I was done, he asked me when I could start and I told him I would check because I played volleyball and some days may have conflicted with my work schedule.
"Do you have a work permit?" he asked.
I shook my head. I didn't have one. "Where can I get one?"
"The Covington Annex in downtown Covington. Can you bring it to me by tomorrow?" he asked.
"Yes. In fact, I'll go get it right now and bring it to you," I said swiftly.
"Great. The sooner the better," he said rushingly.
I walked out of subway and called my mom, excited to tell her that I got a job.
"Hello?" she picked up.
"Mom guess what?! I got a job at Subway right by the house!" I enthusiastically proclaimed.
She gasped. "That's awesome, boo! Congratulations! Did you apply anywhere else?"
I'd applied to the sushi place and the pizza place, but I could just sense that Subway was going to be the place I worked, considering the fact that he already offered the job to me. "Yeah, but he sounded pretty assuring about giving me the job, so I think I'm just gonna take what I already got."
After I told her I was going to get a work permit and I'd be back later, we got off the phone, and I was on my way to downtown Covington. When I got there, I signed some papers and handed them my birth certificate, drivers license, and other legal papers that I can't recall exactly. While I waited, I pulled up my schedule and studied my schedule for that week, so that when Mike asked me about possible work days, I would know right off the bat when I would and wouldn't be available. I was out of there in five minutes and heading back to Subway.
I walked in with the work permit in my hand, and immediately handed it to Mike.
"Thanks. So when can you start?" he asked.
I stuttered a little. "Uhhhhmmmm–"
"How about Saturday?" he interrupted.
Thanks for giving me time to think... I thought back to my schedule. "Yeah. I don't have anything on my schedule. What time should I be here?"
I don't remember what time specifically he told me, but it was early in the morning. He also mentioned that Saturdays were their busiest day and that would be the best day for me to start so that I can get used to the work pace and learn how to do things accurately through repetition.
Flash forward to Saturday. I walked in that morning and two young girls that looked my age were standing behind the counter.
"Hi," I said shyly. "I'm here for my shift. I'm new."
Cheyenne said "okay" and I looked at them with a confused look. What do I do now...?After a few moments of awkward silence, I realized she was messing with me when she finally chuckled and directed with her finger, saying, "Come around in through that door."
I went around and asked where to get my uniforms, because Mike said to get them on my first day, so I just came in black pants and a white shirt.
They lead me to the back of the store near the sinks and storage boxes, and handed me a subway shirt, hat, and apron.
I changed into them in the bathroom and was officially ready to work.
The morning was slow for the most part, so we pretty much used that time to get to know each other.
They asked where I went to school, what grade I was in, and other typical informative questions.
They were both seniors at Fontainebleau high school, and I learned a lot about who they were and such. They were the type of people who were very intelligent, and could be very successful in their lives, but they just chose not to. They told me some stories that really surprised me, and also ensured me of what kind of people they were.
Cheyenne lived with a friend, because she didn't get along with her parents. She was a very fast and consistent worker, and she knew how to do everything there. I kind of thought of her as "mike's best worker" because he would always call her for everything such as counting the money, working the cash register, running to the store if we ran out of something, and other things that involved a lot of trust. She had told me a few weeks after I first started about her drug problem. She used to be caught up in drugs and it got to the point where her life was falling apart, so she went to rehab, and she's better now. I was really surprised when she told me because she seemed so organized and responsible at work.
Christian, on the other hand, lived with her grandmother, because she didn't get along with her mom. She had never met her dad before and had no idea who he was. She said her mom didn't tell her. She reminded me of Cheyenne in the way that they're both consistent and fast-working. This also surprised me about her after she told me what she used her work money for...
Sooner or later, people started coming in, and before we knew it, the line was out the door. Mike had told me that Saturday was their busiest day of the week, and of course he scheduled my first day of work on this day...
They told me to start on the veggies, and that kept me busy for most of my shift.
By the end of the day, I was exhausted. I went home, and slept until the next morning.
He told me to call him about my work schedule and I did the next day. I remember being really nervous about telling him the days that I couldn't work (or should I say could work) because I already had a busy schedule to begin with. I was playing club volleyball and we had practice twice a week, not to mention tournaments almost every weekend. I dialed his number and waited for someone to pick up.
"Hello?" Mike answered.
I hesitated. "Hey Mike. It's Amelie from Subway. I was calling to give you the dates that I'm not going to be available to work."
"Okay. I'm listening," he responded.
I gave him some of the upcoming dates that would conflict with working, which included Wednesday nights and Sunday mornings for practice, and some weekend dates that I had tournaments on.
When I mentioned that I wouldn't be able to work the week of Spring Break, his tone of voice changed dramatically. "So you're telling me you want to take a week off of work in February when you've just started working here? No. I'm sorry you can't just take off whenever you want. This is a job that you signed up for and it requires some responsibilities, like being available to work consistently."
There was a moment of silence after that. What do I say now? Come on, Amelie. Think. I'm one of those people who can't think not only under pressure, but just on the spot in general. I was shaking and I could feel my voice start to tremble as I said, "Well I did include in my application that I am part time and I have other priorities like volleyball and school that would keep me from working some days. And I–"
"Yes. I understand that, Amelie, but you have to realize that you're a new employee and you have a new priority now. You can't just use that as an excuse to miss work. I'm the one supposed to be telling you when to work, not you telling me the days you're available. That's not how a job works. Now if this is how it's going to be, then I have no problem hiring someone else who would be more reassuring of their commitment to this job."
I started to tear up a little, only because he had raised his voice at me, and I was scared I was about to completely blow this opportunity of getting my first job. I tried to calm the mood by saying, "Yes, sir, I understand. I knew this would be a conflict, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to work around it, and keep this job."
"Let's just focus on one month at a time for now. So every Tuesday I make a new schedule, and whatever days you need off, write it down and post it on the back fridge near where the schedule's hanging up," he said.
I said a few kind words and thanked him for his reconsideration. My grandma had been with me the whole time I was on the phone with him, and after, she gave me some advice on how if he's upsetting me this much, then I just need to quit. I shook my head in agreement, but didn't consider what she was suggesting.
A few weeks passed by, and I'd probably worked about three shifts a week, which roughly averaged to seventeen hours. I'd heard many stories about Mike before and how ridiculous he is, and I finally realized what they meant by the time the fourth week came around. One week night, I was working with this guy, Josh, and the store phone rang.
I picked it up. "Northshore Subway?"
"Amelie—" it was Mike... "You can't just stand around doing nothing. You gotta make yourself useful. Organize the chips, fill the sauces, clean tables. Find something to do. Okay?"
"Yes sir," I said, as I rolled my eyes.
Seriously? What if we have homework or something to get done? Are we banned from doing anything besides following his demands? This is ridiculous. He is ridiculous.
As Josh was getting the bread out of the oven, he asked what Mike said, and I told him. "So do people complain that they can't catch a break from Mike's constant demanding? I mean I'm just mad that he won't let us do any homework or anything if we're sitting here with nothing to do even if everything's done."
Josh chuckled. "Yeah, Mike doesn't care. He never gave you the lecture on how school's stupid and a complete waste of time?"
I nodded my head. I'd only talked to Mike a few times and it was only very brief conversations because he was always so busy running back and forth making sure that his store was in "tip top shape" and that his customers were always satisfied.
"He pretty much doesn't care about anything besides keeping this place on track and in business. As long as he's making money, he's happy," said Josh.
"Hmph," I said with a disgusted look on my face.
I did all of the things Mike mentioned (and other little tasks I thought needed to be done), and by that time, it was only seven o'clock. Josh mentioned earlier how he would take the lobby and I'd do dishes. He'd already explained to me how to wash them, so I thought that it'd save a little time to get some of the dishes out of the way for later. I went in the back and put all of the dirty equipment on the left side of the sinks. There were three sinks: one for soaping, one for rinsing, and one for sanitizing. I turned the latch at the bottom of the soap sink, which kept the water from going down. Then, I turned on the soap water. I started putting dishes in as it filled up, and one by one, started rinsing them off in the next sink. Then, I neatly stacked each clean dish back on the shelf where it belonged.
*Ring!....Ring!* It was the store phone again.. What now Mike? I thought.
Josh shouted from the front of the store. "Hey, Mike said to pick up the phone in the back!"
I slowly lounged to the phone. Was I doing something wrong? I hesitantly grasped it and picked it up. "Hel—"
"Amelie," Mike said before I could answer. "Why are you washing dishes?"
Was this a joke? I was doing nothing but my job, and I don't understand why he was complaining. "I finished everything else, and I'm just trying to get some of them done. There's nothing left to do."
He sighed deeply. "Nah nah nah," he repeated rudely. "That's the very last thing you do right before you close. You don't start them till around nine-ish, thirty minutes before y'all close. Plus, you need to speed it up. You shouldn't be taking 5 minutes on one dish. It should take you five seconds, if anything. I can finish a set of dishes in about twenty minutes, and it shouldn't take you any longer." His tone was firm and he sounded angry.
As much as I wanted to talk back, I stopped myself and answered with a polite "Yes sir." I hung up and went to the front of the store. It was about eight-thirty by this time, and I tried to waste time by making meat and veggie backups.
Finally, nine-o-clock came around and I headed to the sinks in the back, once again. Hopefully I get it right this time... I thought. I continued where I left off, and refilled the soap sink with new soap water. The middle sink (for rinsing) had a high pressurized faucet that shot out water hard enough to rinse off the leftover food and bread from the dirty containers and liners, and it was so useful. It had a handle on it that you held down to make the water shoot out, and the farther you pushed it down, the higher the pressure of the water was. I pretty much held that thing down most of the time, because it did it's job and got all of the bits of old food from each container.
All of a sudden, the phone rings. Again! What now?! I frustratingly thought. At this point, I honestly had no idea what he was calling for. Josh shouted again from the front and told me to pick up in the back. I picked it up, and without even answering, Mike went off.
"Amelie, do you know how to wash dishes?" He waited, which was unexpected because I thought he was going to give me another lecture on what I'm doing wrong and how to correct it.
It took me a second to realize he was waiting for me to answer, but what was the point? Saying 'yes' or 'no' won't make a difference to whether he yells at me or not, I assumed, knowing that was what was going to happen. "Yes..." I said presumptuously, as if I was asking it like a question.
"So you're tellin' me that you soak the dishes in soap, rinse them out, and you're finished? Is that how you wash dishes?" he said back in the same smart alecky tone.
"Yes," I said clearly, with confidence. What else was I supposed to say? I was telling him the truth. That's how I washed dishes correctly.. Or at least thought it was correct way.
He sighed, once again. It felt like deja vu, and I was getting tired of hearing the same thing over and over again. He mumbled something that I couldn't exactly understand, but it didn't sound very pleasant. "....Do you want to get somebody sick?"
Without hesitation, I answered. "No! I would never inte—"
"Well considering how you're washing the dishes, there's a very high possibility," he interrupted. "You soak 'em in the soap, take a green rag and scrub them good, rinse them, then dip them in the sanitizer. It's that simple. What if a little innocent boy came in, ordered a sandwich, and ended up dying of food poisoning because you didn't wash the dishes correctly. I could get sewed, and lose my shop. You could go to jail." He just kept going on and on. "They could look back at my surveillance videos and figure out that it was you who wasn't doing their job and caused that little boy's death, just from one simple mistake. Do you want that to happen?"
ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I thought, with the biggest grimace on my face. He was taking it too far, and I was about to do the same, but I knew I needed to hold myself back. I slowly took a deep breath in through my mouth and out through my nose, which did the trick. "No sir. I understand and I'm sorry. It won't happen again," I said, ending the conversation.
That night, after we closed, I got home and talked to my parents. I told them the incident with Mike and how he was giving me a hard time pretty much all evening. I'd thought about it, and I was already miserable working there, so I decided to quit.
The next day I called, and told him that I already had too much on my plate between school and volleyball, and that I wouldn't be able to work anymore. Surprisingly, he sounded like it was no problem for him, and simply just took me off the schedule. I respect the fact that he understood, and let me go with no questions asked. Every so often I'll go back to order a sandwich, and end up seeing him there. He doesn't smile, or greet me, though. The most he's done is just make eye contact, but that's his fault for acting inconsiderate, and, at the same time, very immature. I'm so glad I finally got out of that place, because if not, by now, he probably would've worked me to death.