Tag Archives: boss

Boss, I’d like a raise

A few weeks ago I was getting so fed up at work, I was like, man, I can’t do this anymore, I’ve got to get out. But how do you just leave a job? How do you get out when you don’t have anywhere else to go? So I sat on it for a while, my frustration, my bitterness, everything growing steadily until I couldn’t, like I really couldn’t do it anymore.

So I figured, well, maybe I’ll act like I’m going somewhere else. Maybe if I started going through the motions, then everything would just fall in line, all universal, like the universe, like all of those new age self-help books that I see people reading, about unlocking the secrets of the universe, you’ve got to, like, you’ve got to act on it, and then you’ll get it, right?

So I was like, boss, I need a raise. And he was like, no way, waiters don’t get raises, company policy. And so I was like, fine, well, maybe I’ll find a different company. And he didn’t even look up from his papers, and the tone of his voice didn’t change at all, but I could tell he was annoyed, he was like, fine, go ahead man, good luck out there.

And then I left his office and I was like, shit, that’s not what I was going for, a raise? No, I want out. But then I got in there and, you know how it is when you have to talk to your boss. It doesn’t matter what you had planned out, you get in there, he’s not looking up from his papers, you have to knock on his door even though he’s just sitting there, you see him through the glass just sitting there, like I don’t get what a knock’s going to do differently than if I just open it up.

But still, it’s like, hey Rob, you mind knocking next time? And so I knocked. But was that too gently? Did he hear me? Maybe I should knock again. And I did, and he was like, all right, I’m coming, I can hear you, hold your horses there partner, and he was clearly annoyed.

And then I was like, hey boss, can I ask you something? And he didn’t say anything, so what do I do? I asked about a raise. That wasn’t what I wanted to say, but he was already nodding in disapproval, and I was just thinking, get out now, but I didn’t, I said the whole maybe I’ll find somewhere else to work bit.

So then after work that day I asked my buddy Pete to call up the boss, pretend you’re somebody else Pete, somebody from a different job. Call him to ask about me as a potential employee. And so my boss answered, I was sitting right there, right next to Pete, and he was like, hello? Yes, this is Pete, I mean … Peter. It was already off to a weird start. And he was like, yes, I’m calling about Rob … Robert. For a job. Yes. OK. Nope. Got it. Terrific.

And I said, Pete, what happened? And he was like, nothing. He didn’t say anything. He was just like, yeah, Rob had been mentioning he’d been looking for work. Do you like him? Do you have any questions? And that was it.

Fuck, Pete. Come on, you’re supposed to play some hardball. You’re supposed to be making it, like for my boss, so he’s like, shit, I didn’t think Rob was really going to go, maybe I should give him a raise, screw company policy. Maybe he is serious about leaving. Now I was like, shit, what am I going to do? Do I say anything to my boss?

But my boss didn’t say anything to me. Not for a week. Not for another week. So finally I knocked on his door again. I waited after I knocked, like a minute. Two minutes. I raise my hand to knock again and he was like, all right, come in. I said, hey boss, thanks for putting in the good word for me. And he just kind of nodded.

But you see boss, I think I’m going to stay. I’m a part of the team, right boss? So, yeah, I think I should stay right here. Nothing. So boss, maybe like a little raise? And he was like, I told you already Rob, that’s just not going to happen. And I was like, well, could I maybe have like something? Like a free lunch? A free Coke? And he just nodded, nope, and then held up his hands, like, sorry buddy. But I don’t think he was sorry.

And it’s crazy because I didn’t even want a raise. I didn’t want anything. I just want out. I don’t know why I thought I’d talk to my boss. I should be talking to other bosses, other potential bosses. Not my idiot friend Pete. But come on, not even a free Coke? One free glass bottle of Mexican Coke? That’s total bullshit, because I see the boss giving a free Coke to the grill guy like every other day, definitely every Friday, and he doesn’t even say anything to him, he just kind of tosses it to him, and while it’s still in the air, while it’s perfectly in between both of them, almost suspended at the top of the arc of the throw, they look at each other, they have a little nod and a wink, a really subtle keep up the good work man, we’re all really proud of what you’re doing. Enjoy this ice-cold Coke man, on us, on me, we’re fucking tight you and me, drink up.

About that raise

Boss, I’m going to be direct. I’m here to ask for a raise. That’s right. I feel that I’ve earned it, that I work really hard, much harder than the majority of my coworkers, definitely harder than Phil, than Maggie in accounting. And that guy who works on the third floor, always wearing the big hats … you know, it’s not important. I’m not trying to put anyone else down. Except Phil and Maggie. I definitely work much harder than those two. Like, if you could somehow combine them into one person, or just add up their hours, or, not their hours, but their productivity. I guarantee you that it doesn’t add up to my productivity, or even my hours.

Before you say no boss, I want to stop you right there. Maggie, or, let’s just say one of my coworkers, someone in accounting, they put up this Facebook post about a big raise. Yes, I know corporate policy regarding social media. I’m not friends with this person on Facebook. But my sister is. Apparently last week everyone went out for karaoke and my sister happened to be there and so, you know how it is, how some people are, they meet ten new people and start sending out ten new Facebook friend requests. And all of the sudden my sister’s like, “Oh Rob, tell Maggie congratulations about her new raise!”

Look, I’m not saying it was Maggie. I don’t remember who it was. All I’m saying is, I deserve this. What’s the corporate policy on raises? We have to wait for a performance review, right? Well, it’s just that, it’s funny, because I feel like during my last performance review I was trying too hard, too hard to be humble, something I’m not. I mean, I am humble, in a good way, you know, it’s just that performance reviews, it’s like …

Why didn’t I get a raise last performance review? I feel like, nobody even heard about that time that I fixed the copy machine, the huge one right outside of Conference Room B. Yeah, you remember, right? A while back? Like right before the performance reviews. It wasn’t loading anything from the main tray, it was like, if you wanted anything copied, you had to load from paper tray 3, and so you’d have to feed it manually every time you wanted a copy, but nobody knew about it, like whenever somebody’s secretary was out, they’d walk from the copy machine to me and just kind of be like, “Hey! You! Make ten copies and put them on my desk!” like walking away before they even finished the sentence.

So that day … please, this is huge … one day I’m like, OK, nobody’s making a real effort to fix the machine, let me see what I can do. So I stayed late, I called the manufacturer, I looked up videos on Youtube, and it was easy. I mean, it wasn’t that easy, I was here for like two hours, three extra hours, but … and you know what the funny thing was? It was a staple, just one staple, jammed right in the main feeder. But, no, that’s not the funny part, the funny part is, I never knew we had a staple function on that machine, so do you know how much time I saved everybody, the rest of the staff, putting up fliers, letting them know that, one, the copy machine was fixed, and two, that the machine could staple stuff for you?

And I didn’t get any credit. Like, I wrote about it on Facebook but, but you know corporate Facebook policy. But that was me. What? No, it definitely wasn’t Maggie, they never even use that machine, they have their own machine over by accounting. Which is another thing, why do they get their own machine? Look, that’s not important.

What’s important is this, growth, raise. I’d like a raise. And I’m prepared to not be willing to take no for an answer. Seriously? The answer’s no? Well, that’s … that’s unacceptable. I can’t accept that. Well, maybe I will. Yeah. Sure. OK, fine, I will leave your office. Well maybe this company would get along fine without you too.

No, I’ll … I’ll let you know, I mean, no … no I don’t want to leave just yet. Just, OK, yeah, I’ll look for something else. OK … seriously? OK … OK.

Working hard or hardly working? Both.

I always hear variations of the same quote, something about if you love your job, you’ll never feel like you’ve worked a day in your life. So that’s my first clue as to how I know I don’t love my job, because I totally feel like I’m going to work every single time that I’m going to work. I guess I could go through my whole work history, but as of right now I’m working as a waiter, serving food and drinks and smiling and saying things like, “Coming right out, sir,” and “Hope you had a great time, folks.”

I’m not complaining, really. I’ve had enough terrible jobs where I’m at a point that I don’t hate what I’m doing, and so that’s definitely a good thing. And regardless of what the job is, I think work isn’t a question of labor; it’s really all about time. Considering the fact that most of us have to do something considered work, I’ve found that my personal satisfaction on a day-to-day basis stems from how much time I have that I can consider my own vs. how much of my time that I have to be someplace outside of my house doing things that I really, really don’t feel like doing, which is exactly what going to work is.

Because like I said it’s a matter of time. With my current job, I have some set hours, but it’s really such a loose structure. At my restaurant we have twelve waiters working per shift. With two shifts a day, that’s twenty-four spots. On a weekly basis, I’m only scheduled to work five of those spots. Mostly every other employee at this job is some sort of an entertainer, performer, or actor, so these people are constantly looking to swap shifts and make trades.

As a wannabe writer, this always works out in my favor. Seeing as how I do my writing on my time, I really don’t have to set aside any specific hours. So every week I can basically shape and mold my schedule as I see fit. It’s great because, and I’ve been doing this a lot lately, I can work three double shifts in a row and then have off for four days. It’s like taking those thirty-five hours that I once upon a time spent sitting in an office from nine to five, Monday through Friday, and just compressing them into a pill that I can choke down in one oversized swallow.

It’s no picnic, by the end of that last shift I feel like I’ve lost just enough of my humanity, like I’m almost capable of walking outside and mugging a complete stranger, but it’s totally, totally worth it to have four days off.

And this is what I’ve been trying to get at from the beginning of this essay. That whole quote about loving your job so much that it doesn’t feel like work. I feel like it’s a great idea, and if you’re able to make that a reality for your life, then that’s amazing. Consider yourself very fortunate, because that’s the dream, right? Personal and professional fulfillment. But it’s not practical on a large scale. If everybody had that, then there wouldn’t be any garbage men or bank tellers or people who go down in the sewers to do repairs or guys who have to scoop up elephant dung at the circus or waiters and waitresses to get you another Diet Coke.

I think that, for maximized happiness, on a global scale, it would be within everybody’s best interests to find some way where your work time is never greater than your free time. I think, as a society, as a species, that’s what we should be striving for. There are enough people on this planet to make it a reality. There’s no reason that companies should set thirty-five, forty hours a week as this arbitrary holy standard of productivity. Based on my own experiences in the office world, an absurd majority of this time is spent mindlessly cruising the Internet, clicking on some bullshit spreadsheet whenever a boss walks by, but the boss probably doesn’t even care, because she’s got a Scrabble game going on in her office, and she resents the fact her bosses make her get up every now and then to walk around and make sure everyone’s being productive.

And if you think my idea is stupid, just look to the New York City Department of Sanitation. Workers have a very important, very messy job to do, but they get it done, they hustle their asses off, and they pick up all of the trash on their routes. And if they finish before it’s quitting time, then, whatever, they’ve done their jobs, there isn’t any more trash to be picked up, so they get to go home and still clock in for a full day’s work. Oh yeah, plus they get some of the best benefits in the city. Oh yeah, plus they get full retirement after twenty years. And, oh yeah, there’s something like a four-year waiting list just to get one of those jobs.

I’m not saying we should all aspire to work less. We should all be working smarter, not harder. Nothing’s worse than doing your job fast and efficient, only to have some boss turn around and go, “Oh, don’t have anything to do? I’ll give you something to do,” and then giving you some sort of a busy-work, some meaningless drudgery that’ll make you think twice about doing your original work faster ever again. It hinders productivity. Employers should be hiring people for jobs, not time. Let me do my job as fast and efficiently as possible so I can get out and go home.