Day 8 (music: Harry Nilssen - The Point!)

Day 8: Someone who has made your life hell, or treated you like shit.

As a general rule, anyone who makes my life hell gets cut out of it pretty quick. However, in the interests of truth and in the spirit of this challenge, time to rip open another old scar. Here goes....


This guy I worked with at City Park. Let's call him E. Douchebag.

He seemed pretty cool when I hired in. Complimented me on my clear handwriting and accuracy on labeling everything. Also made a point out of hitting on me and using some of the cheesiest pick up lines known to mankind. Example:
me: (working on some sort of prep. Well-known at that point that there is no man in my life at that moment in time. Also well known to anyone with half a brain that I've got a massive crush on Jeremy)
E: So, uh, let me know if you ever feel the fire...
me: huh wha??
E: Cuz I always wanted to be a fireman...
me: (eyebrow raised in slight confusion)
E: And put the fire out, heh heh.
me: (shudder)

Was he joking? Maybe. I don't know. It didn't seem like it. And in any case, he obviously isn't, wasn't, and would never be my type. I'm not a big fan of super scrawny dudes that tend to look like praying mantises when they're working, just not my thing. I'm also not a fan of afros on white guys. But that's just me. And a major turn off for me is condescension. Even when he was trying to be nice, he was still condescending.

I got sick of the condescension and the godawful attempts at flirting, the sob stories about how he was "deprived," and called his bluff. Not the most political move, but a classic one for me: I offered to talk to his wife and see what the trouble was, why he felt the need to hit on girls at work. Then I left for the day. I'd been home for about five minutes when the sous chef called and started bitching me out for "picking on E." What. the. hell. Really?

Things went downhill after that. They got even worse when I started dating Jeremy. Then I got pregnant with Matthew and he turned into mega-dick. Bullying, yelling, telling me I "smelled pregnant" - dude, I smell like mint-basil shampoo and deodorant, and quit sniffing me, you creeper. Telling me I needed to not run around the kitchen because I would "give that baby brain damage." Making me haul fifty pound bags of water-softener salt down the basement stairs. Telling me to do something one way, then when I did it, change his mind on how he wanted it done and ask me if I was "fucking stupid or something." Screw you, I did it your way in the first place.

It got worse while I was pregnant with Jonah. He'd come in in a foul mood and throw the whole kitchen off, especially after he made kitchen manager. I was eight or nine months along when he ordered me to clean up the raspberry coulis that had spilled in the dessert reach-in. I was pulling the racks out so I could give it a good scrub when he looked in, looked me dead in the eyes, and said "Yeah, it looks like an abortion in there."

After I came back from recovering from my c-section and tubal ligation, I'd put in repeatedly for a transfer back from prep and occasional line to full-time line. Especially for the lunch line position that opened every summer. I never got it. Come to find out he blocked me repeatedly. Chef felt bad for me, so he made sure that I only had to do prep and occasional line and not help the dishwashers unless I wanted to.

E was pissy one night, shortly after he MADE ME WORK ON JONAH'S FIRST BIRTHDAY RAGE RAGE RAGE, and decided to pull the dishwasher out of the tank and pull me off prep and punish me by making me do dishes. Why? There were supposed to be two guys in the tank that night because we were going to be busy, and one of them didn't show. My buddy Steve was working salads that night. We broke $8000 in sales. I was swamped. I was so pissed though that I kept up. Steve still kept trying to come over and help me when he had time, but every time, E would yell at him to get back on the line. I was livid by the end of the night. Never mind the fact that he'd gone against what Chef wanted. Never mind the condescension, the verbal abuse, the fact that he made me haul salt while I was pregnant - I had to get a note from my obstetrician to make him stop with that, after I started bleeding from the heavy lifting, and he made a point of calling the doctor's office in front of me to make sure it was a real note - he screwed up big this time. I was over it. I was already working at Ill-Lusion. I didn't need Shitty Park.

I went in the next morning and told Chef I quit. When he asked why, I didn't pull any punches. "Because E's a dick and I can't handle the way he treats me."

I had multiple sitdowns with managers while I was employed there. Jeremy tried setting the douchenozzle straight. Nothing worked. I had to walk. He had me so stressed I was grinding my teeth in my sleep. And how dare he say shit about my kids being born brain-damaged? It was a well-known fact that he never wanted kids, and he'd loudly talk about how people who chose to have children were stupid around me and the other pregnant employees.

Fuck him.