What's he on about now?

In case the articles, essays and opinions throughtout this site just weren't enough for you, here's my online diary (a.k.a. 'blog'). It's as close as you'll come to the inside of my head, so don't say I didn't warn you
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   Tuesday, August 05, 2003

OVERHEATED

I try not to bitch about my job(s). In Toronto, the sound of people complaining about their low-wage, high-aggravation, soul-numbing careers is the sound of breathing -- so constant as to be almost undetectable. Today, however, I must bitch. Feel free to tune out now, cause here I go!

The middle-aged Jewish brothers who own and run our little record store chain are so goddamned cheap. Yes, that's probably an anti-semitic slur but it's also the truth. What's worse is that their business is being run into the ground -- by both that very cheapness and by the one guy's son, a sterling example of why nepotism is usually a bad idea. As the chain's DVD buyer, he refuses to stock "expensive" items that sell while filling our stores with low-cost dreck that doesn't. Meanwhile, his inept attempts to haggle with the movie studios have left us with an embargo on Disney discs and a cash-on-delivery policy with Universal. This is no way to run a business, but I suppose I should applaud his father for being such a loving parent that he turns a blind eye to his son's costly stupidity.

This is all preamble, though -- the big issue is the heat. Despite being told over a year ago that the motor for the air conditioner in the Yonge Street store is too small, the brothers grim continue to pay repairmen to come in and patch it together with band-aids every few weeks. The working conditions over the last three days in that store have been unbearable and, unsurprisingly, the inspiration for this bitter rant. And I'm the one who loves the hot weather! Gabe, the assistant manager, is pregnant and actually vomited from the heat this afternoon. On the civic holiday yesterday, we worked all day in near 40-degree temperatures, making no money -- since no customers would stay no longer than two minutes -- and getting paid our regular, paltry amount. When we begged them to send the repairman, we were told that they couldn't because they'd have to pay him double for the holiday. Oh, the irony.

Call me a whiner if you must, but I loathe these guys with a hatred I haven't felt for a very long time, that sort of impotent rage the average helpless working stiff feels when his bosses lack all honour. When "Junior" the boy wonder called for Stan this afternoon, Gabe answered the phone. "How's it going, Gabe?" he asked. "It's hot," she snarled. "Whatever," he said, "Where's Stan?" Every day at this store is a lesson in how greedy, stupid, venal and cheap retail owners can be and that bottom of the barrel just keeps getting lower and lower.

Labels: Trawna