Waging bull

I got fired yesterday by my fat, hideous ogre of a boss. He scheduled me to work on a night I was already working at my other job. I spent a week trying to find someone to cover me. I put the shift up on the scheduling app and no one took it. Texts were sent, phone calls were made. I went on a dizzying, modernist nightmare journey through a bureaucratic labyrinth of redirection and futility.

I even showed up to work the first half of my shift with the hope that I could find someone to cover the rest. What a mistake that was. The swollen toad who owns the bullshit business showed up just to fire me. He could have helped me out, but then again, in my brief stint working for this miserable swamp monster none of my needs were ever addressed or taken seriously. I don’t know why I expected anything else.

They hired me and gave me one or two shifts a week. They payed beneath minimum wage because the tips were supposed to be substantial. The tips turned out to be shit. Nonexistent. I asked for more shifts, even offered to work at their other shop and they gave me nothing. Then they told me I could be a manager and get a raise. That didn’t happen.

I lost everything I had saved up helping them open a new store. When the new shop opened I got a few more hours but they were mostly closing shifts. And nothing is more dull than closing a slow coffee shop a few nights a week. You’re a dishwasher and cleaner. You make nothing and interact with no one.

In addition, the shop has a soulless atmosphere. It’s a cold, contrived environment because it’s in a luxury apartment complex on the edge of a gentrifying neighborhood. And they won’t find enough trust fund recipients to pay 2000 dollars a month to drink single origin coffee among cracked out hobos.

I also watched as they failed to train new employees. They try to make specialty coffee seem like an artistic, passionate pursuit of excellence. A career for professional and serious minded people. In reality it’s below subsistence level low skilled labor. And everyone in the “industry” is expendable and replaceable. ¬†They don’t hire illegal aliens for barista jobs because the aliens don’t speak english. Otherwise I’d be competing with Manuel and his seven brothers for bargain basement under the table wages.

So I work in an industry with a veneer of artistry and respectability concealing an underworld of poverty and stultifying repetition. But that description could be applied to most jobs so I guess we’re all in the same shit sink gasping for breath. Someday soon all jobs will be automated and the human race will achieve peak uselessness. 99 percent of us will be ground up into corn meal and jet fuel.

From africa we emerged, and back to africa we will return as sex slaves and diamond miners. In the meantime I need to figure out my next step.

Author: The Empty Subject

Born curmudgeon

One thought on “Waging bull”

  1. You’re one step closer to leaving that God forsaken shithole. To me this is an illustration of how illusory the world of “artisinal” dining is. Labor is labor anywhere. I’ve worked in restaurant’s 21 years. Sometimes the nicest places have the most psychotic and degenerate owners.
    Consuming things with the veneer of consumer conciousness allows politically shallow status signalers to put more thought into the fate of someone 6,000 miles away as opposed to a person in front of them that they are actually in a better position to connect with / help/ commiserate or what have you.
    40 years ago, some one would’ve tried to get you into a corrupt, bloated and dysfunction union. Now, you will be scoffed at as a privileged man who deserves his fate. Or they just don’t care.
    Either way, your observations were spot on. I really think The automation stuff will play out badly for us. The “blue state” economic model is filled with shit jobs like this to keep consumption high and the ability to replicate above the poverty line pretty much impossible.

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