The Dilemma (and the Drama)

I’m getting paid $13 NZ per hour to be a waitress at Vangioni’s. I believe the exchange rate for the US dollar is about 0.53 right now, so that makes my hourly rate $6.90 US. I know you’re not supposed to talk about money, but I am trying to set the stage for you. I’m not making any money. People paid me more to care for their children when I was just 14 years old.

NZ restaurants do not operate like US ones, where you pay the staff a crap wage but the customers are, at least, obliged to tip a certain percentage of the bill. No, no. Tips are not expected in this country. It’s something that people will do only if they really feel they’ve had AMAZING service. At Vangioni’s, we keep a tip jar at the bar, and any tips we receive go into that jar, to be split by the whole staff (wait staff, kitchen staff) at the end of the week. This amounts to about $50 per week. In addition, I do get a meal and a drink every shift I work.

My parents taught me to be a responsible employee – don’t take too many days off, arrive early, dress appropriately, etc. – but somewhere along the way, being responsible turned into being pathetic. I have felt lately like I have some kind of chip installed in my brain that makes me a total pushover to my employers. Work comes first! Make the boss happy! Even if he’s not paying you anything!

I felt this way, to some extent, at my old job in New York. I found it impossible to say no to my boss, even if it meant canceling trips home for work. If he said he needed me, I HAD to be there. No questions asked. Of course, that was a different situation than I’m in now. I was getting paid well over a living wage, and had a beautiful office to work in, and a large amount of responsibility to call my own.

When my family (finally) informed me about a month ago that they had bought their plane tickets to NZ for Christmas, I was thrilled. But that little pathetic employee inside me said, I’m going to have to work, so I won’t be able to travel with you all, but I’ll put together a lovely itinerary for you of places to visit.

And so I busied myself for the next couple of weeks with researching and booking. The final plan was this: My family was to arrive in Akaroa, spend three nights here, then go on to Queenstown for three nights. My brother would then leave to go back to the States, and my parents would have a few more days on the road, touring the West coast of the South Island, and then spend their last three nights in Christchurch, where I would come spend a day or two with them.

So…my parents were going to come for TWO weeks, and I was going to get to see them for four days? Hm. Something’s not right here.

The fact that it took me until about two weeks ago to realize that I was about to miss out on a once in a lifetime opportunity (because, really – when will the four of us Bucys be in NZ together again?) is absurd. And all for work! It didn’t even occur to me that I should just ditch the job (not making me any money anyhow) and go spend some QT with them family. That would just be asking too much of my boss, I thought to myself. I actually told myself this! I couldn’t do this to him, I said.

ELLEN! WAKE UP! My friends here started saying to me, as I described my family’s trip to them. If it was me, they said, I would take the whole two weeks, even if my boss fired me for it. There’s just no question about it. Family comes first.

So, I decided, I am going to just tell Steve. Just going to tell him that I at least need six days off – three for the time the family’s in Akaroa, and three for the days in Queenstown while my brother is still around. I at least need that. Well, by the time I’d resolved all of my doubts and found the courage to tell my boss that I would be taking a week starting the 23rd, I overheard my adorable French friends, Franky and Celine, telling Steve that they’re quitting. Their last day will be the 22nd.

ARGH!

So I put off MY conversation another week, mental deliberations starting all over again. How could I do this to Steve? He’s going to be screwed! Christmas week with no staff! Then again, he’s paying me $13. If he really wanted to keep his staff, perhaps he could, you know, give us an incentive to stay? I’m going to feel so sick to spend three days here with my family and then watch them all leave together for Queenstown.

I talked all of this over with Bjorn (who has been very upset with Steve’s employer skills all along), and he encouraged me to do whatever I felt was right. He said he was committed to work at the supply store at least til mid-January, but if the conversation with Steve didn’t go well, and I had to quit, he was totally behind me.

So last Thursday, I went to talk to Steve. I had in my head this whole scenario – how I was going to just lay it all on the line. I must travel with my parents, I’d say. I am taking six days off. I know I’m putting you in a hard spot, but this is just how it has to be.

I was not nearly that blunt about things, of course. So Steve, I said, I’ve been thinking, it’s going to really upset me to not spend more time with my parents while they’re here.

Well, I ought to be able to give you the 23rd and 24th, he said, and we’re closed Christmas Day.

Well, those days are really non-negotiable, I said. But I need a few more days, too. I know you can understand – you’re very close with your family. Wouldn’t you feel miserable if they came half-way across the world to see you, and you didn’t get to see them more than three days?

Sure, he said. I understand. And I wish I could just tell you to take two weeks off, but with Franky and Celine leaving, I have no staff. And I just noticed Jody put a for sale sign on her car – do you know anything about that? (I did know. Jody, one of the chefs, lives in our house, and she’s decided she wants to leave mid-January but has been too scared to tell Steve.)

Um, no, I lied. Didn’t she just buy that car?

Steve was growing more agitated by the minute. My approach in unpleasant situations is to try to just be as honest as possible. To admit wrongs, to explain myself as much as possible, to try to get the person to relate to me. So I said, It’s just hard, Steve. Because none of us have anything tying us to this place. (Which is true, you know. You employ travelers without making them sign a contract or offering them some kind of incentive to stay longer, and…what do you THINK is going to happen? They’re going to up and leave when their eyes are ready for new scenery.)

For whatever reason, that was just the wrong thing to say. Steve shot his eyes over at me, and I could sense a sort of rage building up inside his body.

Yeah, cool, he said. I get it. I’ll see you later. And he just walked out of the restaurant, forcing himself to shut, not slam, the door behind him.

I sat there at the bar of the restaurant, in the silence and dark, looking at the gorgeous day going on out the front windows, and wondering how I’d gotten myself into all of this drama?

Still unsure about what Steve and I had resolved, I left the restaurant and went back home. And I started to think about the situation and the way Steve had behaved (a grown man, my employer, walking out on our conversation!), and this light just flicked on in my head. This is ridiculous. I was going to stay here and work instead of spend time with my family for THIS man. No, thank you.

I waited two days for Steve to say something. Something like, sorry about walking out the other day. I was having a really bad day. If you have to take days off, I guess you will. Say SOMETHING! But he just sort of picked back up as usual, making pleasant conversation.

So I finally just wrote him a note, saying, Just so you have the dates in writing, I’m unavailable to work Dec. 23-29. Thanks.

And that is that, my friends. And I couldn’t be happier about it all!

I hate being involved (or even watching from the outside) these kinds of silly work dramas. And the restaurant has felt like that lately, because the whole staff has sort of collectively realized that they’re ready to move on…at the same time. And that is rough for Steve. But he needs to grow up and stop walking away from conversations. He’s the boss, so he needs to figure out how to make his staff stay if he doesn’t want this to keep happening. That’s his job!

Drama!

Okay. So, Brother John arrives on Sunday. Still not sure what his plan is but am hoping he’ll just pick up the rental car and come straight to Akaroa. Mums and Dads get in on Tuesday morning. We’ll have three days hanging out in Akaroa, and then we are off to Queenstown on Friday! Yipee! I am certain it will be worth any and all of the agony Steve endures next week. (But don’t tell him I said that.)

Day off today! Not sure what will happen, but it’s a rainy day so I imagine it will be a fairly lazy one. Love to you all.