I feel a lot more awake than I have for about a week. How about some coffee?

I deserved that much sleep, though, because I'd spent the previous 12 hours working.

Last Thursday, I was scheduled to attend a Fazolian management training seminar. The "Success University" modules are taught by Area 15's 2nd in command, whom shall henceforth be known as Smithers, just because. There are six different modules, and Smithers had sent out an e-mail three weeks ago, saying he was going to run "Continuous Coaching." I hadn't done that one yet, so Head Boss Lady signed me up, and worked her weekly schedule around the fact that I would be getting six hours of pay on that day, but I wasn't available to work for her.

(This is kind of a boring story, with needless attention to trivial details. Sorry about that.)

So. My hours for the week in question were at 38.5, counting this module. Then, Smithers sent a conformation list of everyone who had signed up for "Conflict Resolution." I had already done that one, so I called Smithers and asked him what was up. He said no no no, it's going to be "Conflict Resolution" it was always going to have been "Conflict Resolution," and though I wasn't the only one who seemed to have been misinformed, he wasn't going to change it now.

I told HBL that I had an extra day off that I didn't particularly want, so if she needed me for a few hours, I was available. She said she was in the midst of Training Madness (FIVE people are going away to college at the end of the month, and an additional SIX people stopped coming in over the course of one week. We are hiring and training roughly 4000 new people right now.) and her allocated hours were already stretched beyond capacity.

OK, then. I have 33.5 hours this week. I usually show up 20 minutes early for my opening shifts because I know I think slowly that early in the morning and I need a little extra time to get everything done. In a normal week, I'll punch in at my scheduled time, because it upsets HBL to realize on the last day of the week that I need to leave two hours early or she'll have to pay me the overtime. My one closing shift, I was blessed with a trainee who took until 1 am to get all the stuff done that a more experienced closer would have had done by midnight. I stayed an extra 1/2 hour one day to do the September budgets. I tweaked that time clock in every ethical way I could think of, but I got sent home early a few times, and I was only at 27 hours at the start of yesterday.

I punched in at 7:40 am. It was a fairly standard day, but we found out we were dangerously low on Italian Sausage. A new item started this week that uses it, so we'd gone through about twice as much as we had in any previous week. HBL is usually pretty good about predicting how well new menu items will succeed and making the weekly truck order accordingly, but she underestimated the hypnotic allure of the Italian Meat Combo for only $3.99.

The other manager was complaining about trying to find someone who could make the two-hour drive to the two closest other restaurants to borrow some.

"I'll do it!" said the girl looking for hours, with a winning grin. Added bonus, one of the restaurants on my tour was only staffed by a mere Associate Manager when I called. He didn't feel qualified to authorize the transfer without the approval of his boss, who wouldn't be in till 5pm.

I cleverly offered to punch out at my scheduled time of 4 and go home for an hour, then come back to do the drive. (Management tip #4068: Always look like you're trying to bend over backwards to help. I could so be an evil genius ruling ze world, if I didn't have this pesky conscience.) The manager working felt sorry me, and said she knew I was short on hours this week, and I should just stay punched in till I got back.

The highlight of the trip was visiting Smithers' restaurant, and meeting his own personal Smithers. Smithers Jr. came running up with all the appropriate paperwork for me to sign, said he was delighted to finally meet me in person, and if there was ever anything at all that his restaurant could do for us, we should call him personally. Smithers Jr. is an associate manager, just like me, and I saw the salaried manager on duty rolling her eyes as he delivered this speech. I'm so glad the Madison restaurant doesn't have a Smithers.

Both of the restaurants on my tour gave spectacularly unhelpful directions on how to find them, so I didn't get back to Madison till 7:50 pm. I didn't really mind, of course, because hours are good.

I came home and stared drooling into space for a while, then decided a 20 minute nap would be an excellent idea before hitting "record" on the VCR and going to bed.

And that brings us completely up-to-the minute up to date. Maybe my next entry will be more interesting.

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