End of Kipple #3

November 14, 2010
Today is the day I'm giving my notice at work. I hope. The Boss should be there. And he won't be happy. He's never happy. I know what that's like. But too bad. My visa finally came through and my notebooks are lined up on a shelf in Netanya waiting for me. Scared as I am, there is no turning back.

As usual, the state of affairs is not well. Like every morning, the first thing I do is read the news. The world doesn't understand Israel's "Temporary" "Loyalty Oath" and I have to admit that I don't quite understand it either. As a Palestinian quoted in Svetlova's article "Law and Disorder" from the Jerusalem Post on November 14, 2010, states: "...as far as I know, Jews, Muslims and Christians live in this state, and I don't see how it can become a 'Jewish state.' And what does that mean exactly?" Israel has always been something else. But it has always been a state run by Jews and created as a haven for Jews. The question is what is Jewish? The other question is what is democracy? And the biggest question is can a 'Jewish' state - whatever that means- in fact, be democratic?

A very good friend of mine from the Tel Aviv area says with more conviction than I've ever heard from anyone else that as citizens of a democracy it is not only our right but our daily obligation to question, protest, and fight our governments. Israelis, judging by the level of activism, which translates into actively screaming street mobs in the tens of thousands every other week or more, obviously share the same opinion.

Americans like to complain but we haven't really moved as a body since the 1960s and early '70s during the protests of the Vietnam War. An old high school friend of mine says that this is precisely because all the protesters are now in power, so they know how to quash the incentive and the riot. Everything has fizzled from inspiration-to-action into insubstantial jargon. And so by our inaction, we pour the acid that dissolves the ground from beneath our feet.

November 16, 2010
We can easily see the disintegration of America in everyday life. Let's return to my retail job.

Like I said, I was giving my notice to the Boss two days ago. Just for the record, the previous cafe manager apparently quit over the phone and never showed up again. Boss was already informed about a month ago that I would be leaving around December.

He says, 'I thought you would be here until December."
"Yes," I replied. "Through November 30. Until December."
"I'm going to need that in writing," he says. "For your file."
For my file? What am I resigned from? The FBI?! Friggin' RETAIL. What's he going to do if I don't do it? Fire me? Because I sure as hell know it's not going to include giving me an extra paycheck.

I've decided that I will put it in writing to his boss:

Dear Madame,

I am writing to inform you of my resignation from my position as a whore-to-retail-barista as of November 30, 2010. Your gluttonously bitter underling has made it so very pleasant to work for your company.

Contrary to popular belief, your employees are highly educated, literate, and well-rounded. Surprisingly, we are aware that English is, in fact, written from left to right. In addition, we are capable not only of critical thinking but of the practical application of our skills in a high-stress, abusive atmosphere where we are perpetually treated like yesterday's decaying refuse. Unfortunately, we are very much alive and will not be of use to any rogue students of the mycological or scatological disciplines, although I am sure many of our customers would.

We maintain our artificial smiles and cheer in spite of these conditions, along with the knowledge that all we get in return is a complaint and a minimum wage paycheck eaten to nothing by taxes for which we receive nothing in return but the promise of an empty social security account.

I would also like to inform you that despite my lowly position on your corporate food-chain, I am always aware of when I have customers. Your general manager, however, seems not to be aware of the fact that a human being devoid of super powers is quite incapable of taking an order, making an order, grinding coffee, brewing coffee, doing dishes, restocking the RTD case and condiment station, asking 25 irrelevant questions  about our Plus program (that the customers don't give a crap about), and selling bags of beans simultaneously- all within the course of one minute and forty-five seconds. We are particularly incapable when we are scheduled alone on a Sunday during the Holiday season.

Also, "every customer, every time" often results in "no customers, anytime" because they've already made their choice, are sick of being pestered, and just want to pay for their goddamned drink and get on with it.

I could go on but I'll offer a suggestion: begin an anonymous employee evaluation of their general managers every 4-8 weeks. There's more than one reason our stores are failing and it's not solely due to the lack of micromanagement. Rather, it has much more to do with the lack of employee morale incited by abusive, thankless management.

With that, I bid you adieu. Have a wonderful Holiday Season and generate much profit.

All the best,
Me

Later...
On Sunday, after I gave the notice, I got another deluge of brilliant customers. First of all, I was on the floor (alone again) and had to call over help from the book side - which actually showed up this time.

We get a woman who asks me what drinks we have that "aren't sweet". I tell her any of our teas, brewed coffees, or cold-brew coffees without added flavor. She says "No, I want something cold, with flavor."

"Ok. We have sugar-free options: vanillia, hazelnut, raspberry, and orange-vanilla," I tell her.

"I don't want sugar. How about this strawberry drink?" Does it have sugar?" she asks, indicating a blended strawberry shake.

(Are you getting lost, because I am...)

"Yes. Strawberry is fruit and full of glucose...sugar," I say.

"What do you have sweet without sugar?"

(FML): "Vanilla, hazelnut, raspberry, and orange-vanilla," once again, now.

"I'll take the strawberry drink."

"Even though it has sugar?"

"Yes."

"Ok."

I start to make the strawberry shake. She sees me fill the cup with ice, says "No. I don't want ice."

"It's a blended drink. You won't see the ice, but it's sweet and cold like you want..."

"I don't want. Give me a regular coffee."

WTF.

And then someone confuses the stinking banana bread with the cinnamon pecan again and really means orange cranberry coffee cake--but gets angry with me for telling her that the banana bread is sold out. While she clearly points at orange cranberry, insisting that it's banana bread, and changing her mind to "cinnamon pecan," and yelling at me about how the banana bread, which is no longer available, is actually still there.

Then, the stupid espresso machine explodes milk everywhere.

The line is out to the front door and the Boss shows up and stands between the register and the coffee brewers, taking up 2.5 of the 3ft space, and watches me run back-and-forth frantically while he does absolutely nothing.

We're out of coffee, we're out of milk, and we're almost out of whipped cream. We're out of napkins. Customers are complaining about all of this and I can't make half the drink because of the lack of whipped cream and coffee.

I run to the back to get supplies as customers scream at me from every direction because I need to restock and the Boss says (as he stands there, in the way, doing nothing): "You have customers."

Mmm. I didn't notice. Thought we were absolutely empty just now.

What kind of idiot is he? A very rare breed mixed with extra-special schmuck. Two more weeks. And I'm done.