July 16th, 2005


i see dead spics...

one would think, having survived the death squads of el salvador and rural colombia, grown men with their own children who have been in the USA for 25-30 years would be able to simply take a different fucking train/bus to work.

but no , this is some delusional fantasy of mine. my expectations are outrageous. hiding from drug dealers and rebels with machine guns in the fields of your poverty/violence stricken village everyday for 30 years: do-able. traveling to the other end of the earth, to a new country, illegally, where you know no one, without your family ,and having to work 3 manual labor ,underpaying jobs 7 days a week in order to send most of the money home: no problemo. get on the goddamn T, get out at the last stop and board one bus that takes you right to your new workplace: no can do. absolutely impossible.

i have done everything possible in 2 languages ,no less ,to explain exactly how to get to the new commissary. i've provided maps, schedules, the exact fares. i've written out precise directions, including how to ask the bus driver for the right stop. it's one fucking bus, no transfers, to the front fucking door. the guys are what can only be described as hysterical and as a result have completely screwed up the production plans that were also exactingly written out in english and spanish, explained in their own dialect by someone from their village, several times ,and posted all over a month ago. they checked off everything, assuring us it all had been done. half of it is missing and i have no ovens, no mixers and no refrigeration to correct their male menopause, complete and utter denial moment. i worked over 20 hours yesterday because some people refuse to deal with reality- a reality which ,on their part ,only required following directions. i have just had one of the worst weeks, professionally and personally, in recent memory. theyre being a bunch of old ladies but i'm a fucking machine- get in my way now, don't listen to me now, and i will pave you right the fuck over.

i don't want to move and entire manufacturing facility either. i don't want to drive to work to fucking outer honkey town. we all get stuck in our little ways and theyre comforting. however ,it's happening and either move with us or get out. don't loiter around like stunned bunnies, lying for fuck's sake that you've finished what you were asked to do and messing up my careful planning to get out of this moving mess with some sanity intact. we're getting a beautiful all new, all air conditioned bakery instead of toiling in the sweltering hole we now occupy, infested with rats ,SQUIRRELS, and the ghosts of dead colonists. we'll have parking- a whole parking lot all to ourselves -and a real loading dock. in other words ,we're a professional bakery and we will finally have a real professional environment to work in instead of a cobbled together baking hovel that floods every week and is caving in over our heads.

and do you know why those few of you who don't have licenses to drive dont have them? let me remind you-some,who are legal ,have refused, after nearly 30 years here, to learn english and refuse to apply for a driver's license, preferring to let your adult (and often not even adult), american born children communicate on your behalf and chauffeur you around. you have effectively become the child. i do understand the cultural significance of this and , having come from an immigrant, non-english speaking family ,it's not that i do not have a degree of empathy.however, the reality is no manufacturer can afford to pay boston rents anymore and the business has to change to afford to even exist.you have working eyes, all your limbs and enough money to buy a car, indeed ,you probably already bought the fancy suv your kids drive you around in.it's questionable whether some of you would still be alive if you stayed in colombia(one of our employees was murdered on a trip home several years ago) and you certainly wouldnt have money for a car. the DMV gives the test in spanish. your 17 year old daughter will go with you. get fucking busy.

the next set are those of you who refused to partake in the last amnesty offered by president bush at the beginning of his first term. remember? the company offered to sponsor anyone who wanted to get legal. we found the lawyers, we filled out your paper work, we gave out loans to those who didn't have enough money. all you had to do was sign the papers and someone went to the lawyer and immigration with you. but it cost money and after lying on your w2s about having 15 dependants when you actually had none and thus hardly paying any taxes on your iffy SSN, you didn't want to pay a few thousand dollars to insure you'd no longer have to worry about your status. and so 9/11 happened and now you cant get a license. told you so- but you refused to listen. i don't understand- you're never going back to colombia. now you're screwed. i don't feel sorry for you. at all.

i always hated working for the sort of usual restaurant jobs- the hotels with those bastard usually french or german chefs who are complete abusive assholes- no days off/no excuses, no sick days, no flexiblity, carved in stone schedules, if you don't do it or you don't show you're fired. i have, however, recently rethought the wisdom of treating people kindly and with understanding- it just doesn't work. and i personally can no longer pick up their slack and fill in to counter their inability to function under even the slightest change or the least pressure. i've never asked anyone to do something i have not or would not do. i've put up with no shows who were taken back, personally filled in for employees who continually had appointments- some of whom i knew were lying as when someone was taking classes but kept insisting their kid was going to the doctor 3 days a week for months. i have made, for free, their wedding cakes, hired their children, given them days off they were not entitled to that completely disrupted the bakery. i have taken them to the doctor because they're english was so bad and they had no one to go with them. i have taken most of the brunt of difficult situations such as holidays and this massive move-trying to keep their jobs as uniform and stress free as possible. i have put off my vacations to accomadate other subordonate employees who demand to take off at their will with no notice.

mr.mittens is done. the result of all this accomodation is that i am being abused. i do like the guys- for the most part they're good guys -certainly better than the pasty faced puffed up whities that want to be princess pastry chef and can't even bake a muffin-but theyre over indulged and mollycoddled and i am sick of paying the price for it because im the only one who takes responsibility seriously and doesnt have kids so am expected to just stay late all the time, come in at anytime ,no matter what. this business cant be run how a group of insular ,largely related employees run their own lives-emotionally, blindly and in dysfunctional panic, by default to someone else. see how they freak out and are rendered useless because they don't get their own way i.e. the commissary moves. sorry, that's not the way it's going to work. there's a new sherriff in town - the Mittenator -and the fur is going to fly. or else.

no, it's not a good time to annoy senor mittens, senor . please go work at a hotel for a week and what always happens will happen-they won't feed you, they'll charge you for your uniform, they won't let you use the phone or your own cell phone, you'll take your break when you're told and be fired if you show up late. you will work the schedule you're told to. your family can't come visit you, you won't get free anything and if you steal it anyway theyll fire you and maybe bring charges. if your dad in colombia dies they wont give you off to fly home. then you'll come running back to old mittens ,the way they always do.."ohh, i want my job back"....( trust me-this is no exaggeration. it's happened more times than i can say.)...

yeah, right.

hasta la vista, puta.
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