you get what you pay for
Those allergies turned out to be a coldóthe first real illness I've had this year. Yesterday was the only day I was incapacitated, although today I was pretty demanding. And rude. My throat is sore, so I communicate in monosyllables as much as possible. Drinking more fluids would probably help that. I can remember when colds lasted weeks! The advances in prescription drugs these days, wow.
I'm not bringing home too much cash lately. With the holidays solidly past, there aren't enough dogs in the kennel for me to have lots of work. That, and not as many people are adopting, so we don't have many spays and neuters. I've been taking two days off per week, instead of the usual one, and I leave early on Thursdays, while I used to stay until 5:30. Today (Thursday) I left before 10 am. I've been working fewer than 20 hours a weekólast week I worked exactly 10 hoursóand that's making the money situation a little tight.
At the beginning of the year, I had an idea that this might happen, so I nudged John into a more aggressive savings plan than we've done before. Our dollar-a-day jar is kicking some assówe have over $200 in a difficult-to-withdraw-from savings account. That's for the new computer, which we'll get sometime in 2001. I've been depositing most of my teeny paychecks into our joint savings account, and I pester John to put more of his checks in there. John's finally thrown off the horrid Atkin's diet, that should save us hundreds of dollars' worth of food. Meat costs a lot more than pasta and rice.
I never did get that raise from the vet. The ninety-days raise. I can't remember a job I've ever had where I got the ninety-days raise on time. At the grocery store last year, they gave me backpay to the correct date, but I still had to go and ask for the evaluation and raise when my three-month anniversary had come and gone.
Why? Why don't employers treat their employees like humans? It's so important that they get away with everything, and they make as much money as possible. Why not give something to the people who work for them? I'm the first to admit that I'm a crappy employee. I do what's asked of me, but not a damn thing more. I don't answer my phone on my days off because I don't want to talk to anyone at work. I don't go out of my way for anything. I get paid shit. And the person who pays me, well, they get what they pay for.
I'll add another variable to the equation: when I don't get a pay increase when I'm supposed to, the quality of my work decreases. Like I said last week: my towels don't get sorted like they used to. The sheets are barely folded, and the big blankies for dogs with arthritis just get hurled up on top of the cages where nobody can see them. (I'll bet nobody can get them down, either, and that will save me having to wash them again.) I save a lot of cleaning for "tomorrow" now. Sometimes I don't wear scrubs to work. I don't empty the trash cans in the front, just the ones in the back. I was only doing the front ones to help out Sherrie, so Sherrie can do them herself now. I overheard her telling Aida about an old boss of hers (Sherrie's) who wants her to come back and work, and Sherrie said, "No way, I'm getting paid too much now!" Well, okay, so Sherrie must be making enough to support her and her eight-year-old. I'm not. I want a raise.
But I haven't pushed the issue, because I'm always this close to quitting. When I get back from Michigan, I'm doing an intensive job search, and then I'm outta there. No more dog poop for me.
I'm crabby. My throat is sore. Fleck just tipped over a can of Diet Sprite because he wanted to play with the coaster. I smacked him on the ass and went to get a towel. I think it's past my bedtime.
All this shit is copyrighted (2000) by me. Don't take it, yo.