![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Shortly after the day shift got rolling this morning the Health Inspector showed up for our semi-annual inspection. I've been expecting him since February, so this wasn't exactly a surprise. After he introduced himself to me he noticed that the kitchen was very busy and asked it would be better if he came at another time. I told him that on Fridays there were no good times and he might as well get it done now. We haven't had any significant problems in the past, I wasn't aware of any that we had now, and it's best to appear unafraid of official scrutiny. Thus, I spent the morning putting together granola bars and scones and keeping half an eye on our local guardian of public health.
When it was over we got a fairly good report. We had four "critical" violations, but critical is something of a misnomer here: the violations in question covered such earth-shaking issues as not having the pack-date on the labels of our ready-to-go deli sandwiches. On the really important stuff we did very well: our food temperatures were text-book perfect, our sanitizer system works, and all of our employees are clean, healthy and properly hair-restrained. (Now, if only I could get them to stop wearing patchouli my life would be complete.)
Meanwhile, our new disher seems determined to get on my bad side. He talks and talks and talks and talks and talks and talks and talks and talks and talks and talks and...ok, you get the picture. I could deal with that were it not for the fact that he is slow in the first place and when he really gets going he stops working entirely. The Bakery gets billed for part of the dishing hours so I tend to resent this kind of behavior. At one point I looked over and not only had he stopped working, he'd walked away from his work and was conversing with one of the other deli employees. Did I mention that I resent this kind of behavior? "Wash dishes," I said from across the room, in my best Girl-Scout-Leader voice. He complied.
I worried slightly that I was being too harsh on him, but when I turned back to my work I saw that my assistant manager (who, unlike myself, is not old and cynical) was biting back a laugh. She confirmed my general observations, so I made mental notes to find something good to say to him later (I try to keep moderately good relations with everyone on the kitchen staff--it makes it easier to get them to do what I want) and to mention the talkivity issue to the Deli Manager.
Which was all well and good until later in the afternoon, when I came back from lunch. I was washing my hands in the deli hand-sink when the new disher brightly asked me how my day was going. Since my entire year to date has been unpleasantly stressful I said something about it being mixed. He then asked for details. I told him I wasn't interested in telling him the history of my life. I said this for a couple of reasons. I came down to the kitchen to work, not talk to him. And I certainly didn't want to encourage his talking! And finally, I was not particularly enthused about discussing my private life with a complete stranger.
(That last point probably sounds odd coming from a woman who keeps a public LJ, but really, it's my LJ, and I can post whatever I want, at whatever level of privacy I desire. Also, my LJ is pretty obscure--who would read it aside from my friends and a handful of curious L5R players?)
So, anyway, the new guy does not take the hint and instead suggests that I break matters down to either physical or emotional. I am starting to get seriously annoyed at this point, and reply something in the negative. He still doesn't take the hint! Instead he walks over to me, stands very close, takes a pose with his arms crossed over his chest and announces with a wide grin that he's interested in hearing about me.
I was not, as they say, amused. This guy is young enough to be my offspring, has been working here for 3 days and has yet to display any particular competency for his job--and his job is washing dishes--and is now insisting that I talk to him about my personal life after me telling him twice that I was not interested in such. This is war, and this guy probably doesn't even know how to spell Sun Tzu.
Fortunately for us all, at this point my internal censor leaped into action and shut down the connection between my brain and my mouth. This handy little feature of my mental architecture has, down through the years, saved me no small amount of trouble. When you think as fast as I do, sometimes thinking twice is the better option. By the time I could talk again my initial burst of rage had gone by and I decided not to say a great many things. Instead, I said, "I want you to get back to work", and, having dried my hands, walked away. That took care of the problem, for now.
Later that afternoon I had a few words with the Lee, the deli manager. For historical reasons I'm too lazy to explain here dishwasher hours are funded jointly by the Deli and Bakery, but the deli manager hires and is official supervisor of dishwashers. As bakery manager I have the authority to give orders to them ("Wash dishes!") but in general I like to respect the chain of command and supervise by letting Lee know what I think and allowing him to deal with his people. I think that Lee found the whole thing slightly funny, and I suppose if you are a spectator the thought of a monkey trying to make friends with a red dragon by repeatedly poking it with a stick is kind of amusing. He is going to monitor the new guy's work closely, which is the real issue here--I'm perfectly capable of putting up with annoying people who are good at their job. My life was so much simpler when I was a bread baker, and never had co-workers to deal with!
When it was over we got a fairly good report. We had four "critical" violations, but critical is something of a misnomer here: the violations in question covered such earth-shaking issues as not having the pack-date on the labels of our ready-to-go deli sandwiches. On the really important stuff we did very well: our food temperatures were text-book perfect, our sanitizer system works, and all of our employees are clean, healthy and properly hair-restrained. (Now, if only I could get them to stop wearing patchouli my life would be complete.)
Meanwhile, our new disher seems determined to get on my bad side. He talks and talks and talks and talks and talks and talks and talks and talks and talks and talks and...ok, you get the picture. I could deal with that were it not for the fact that he is slow in the first place and when he really gets going he stops working entirely. The Bakery gets billed for part of the dishing hours so I tend to resent this kind of behavior. At one point I looked over and not only had he stopped working, he'd walked away from his work and was conversing with one of the other deli employees. Did I mention that I resent this kind of behavior? "Wash dishes," I said from across the room, in my best Girl-Scout-Leader voice. He complied.
I worried slightly that I was being too harsh on him, but when I turned back to my work I saw that my assistant manager (who, unlike myself, is not old and cynical) was biting back a laugh. She confirmed my general observations, so I made mental notes to find something good to say to him later (I try to keep moderately good relations with everyone on the kitchen staff--it makes it easier to get them to do what I want) and to mention the talkivity issue to the Deli Manager.
Which was all well and good until later in the afternoon, when I came back from lunch. I was washing my hands in the deli hand-sink when the new disher brightly asked me how my day was going. Since my entire year to date has been unpleasantly stressful I said something about it being mixed. He then asked for details. I told him I wasn't interested in telling him the history of my life. I said this for a couple of reasons. I came down to the kitchen to work, not talk to him. And I certainly didn't want to encourage his talking! And finally, I was not particularly enthused about discussing my private life with a complete stranger.
(That last point probably sounds odd coming from a woman who keeps a public LJ, but really, it's my LJ, and I can post whatever I want, at whatever level of privacy I desire. Also, my LJ is pretty obscure--who would read it aside from my friends and a handful of curious L5R players?)
So, anyway, the new guy does not take the hint and instead suggests that I break matters down to either physical or emotional. I am starting to get seriously annoyed at this point, and reply something in the negative. He still doesn't take the hint! Instead he walks over to me, stands very close, takes a pose with his arms crossed over his chest and announces with a wide grin that he's interested in hearing about me.
I was not, as they say, amused. This guy is young enough to be my offspring, has been working here for 3 days and has yet to display any particular competency for his job--and his job is washing dishes--and is now insisting that I talk to him about my personal life after me telling him twice that I was not interested in such. This is war, and this guy probably doesn't even know how to spell Sun Tzu.
Fortunately for us all, at this point my internal censor leaped into action and shut down the connection between my brain and my mouth. This handy little feature of my mental architecture has, down through the years, saved me no small amount of trouble. When you think as fast as I do, sometimes thinking twice is the better option. By the time I could talk again my initial burst of rage had gone by and I decided not to say a great many things. Instead, I said, "I want you to get back to work", and, having dried my hands, walked away. That took care of the problem, for now.
Later that afternoon I had a few words with the Lee, the deli manager. For historical reasons I'm too lazy to explain here dishwasher hours are funded jointly by the Deli and Bakery, but the deli manager hires and is official supervisor of dishwashers. As bakery manager I have the authority to give orders to them ("Wash dishes!") but in general I like to respect the chain of command and supervise by letting Lee know what I think and allowing him to deal with his people. I think that Lee found the whole thing slightly funny, and I suppose if you are a spectator the thought of a monkey trying to make friends with a red dragon by repeatedly poking it with a stick is kind of amusing. He is going to monitor the new guy's work closely, which is the real issue here--I'm perfectly capable of putting up with annoying people who are good at their job. My life was so much simpler when I was a bread baker, and never had co-workers to deal with!
