Most of ya'll have heard how terrible my job is. I mean, for God's sake I didn't even get paid this week. I'm about ready to quit. She didn't pay me, and she cut my hours in half. I went from 30 hours a week to 12 hours a week. That is friggin ridiculous! Anyway, here's the dream. My day manager, Margie, thinks she is the Queen of waitressing. No one does it like Margie. She's God on Earth to herself. Ya'll know the type. Constantly thinking she's better than you and everyone else in the room. Anyway, Margie has this grin, this evil, makes me wanna smack the **** out of you if you do it one more time kinda grin. And, I don't want to sound mean, or like a ***** or anything, but she's not attractive....at all. She wears her super thin, super bleached hair worn back in a really tight bun with a burgandy (clashes with the hunter green uniform tops) head band wrapped around it. It's hideous. Anyway, she's the typical ***** boss. Come to think of it, I rip the damn thing off her head in the dream! Back to the dream. I forget what all had happened to lead up to this point, but Margie had pissed me off for the last time...wait, I need to back up. Ya'll need the FULL story before I go any further. Friday night I'm doing my normal job as a seating hostess. But because we have crap ass waitresses, I'm also busing tables, answering phones, taking To-Go orders and working the register, all at one time. I've been doing it the same way for a week, ok, ever since we've been open. Ok. And Margie comes up to me and says "Just what do you think your doing?" And I look her dead in the eye and I say "My job. What do you think your doing?" Cause you've got to be a smart ass with her. She says "Why in the hell are you seating people?" I look at her and I say "Jenifer told me to. I take my orders from her." She looks at me, rolls her beady eyes and says "My God you are doing it all wrong." I was not doing it all wrong. I knew who had what tables. I knew where people needed to go. She says to me "If you keep seating people like that one of these waitresses is gonna get swamped and they're going to come complining to me and I'm going to have to deal with it." Too bad, was all I could think. (Earlier in the day she had lied and said that the waitresses got cheated out of 20 dollars in tips because we weren't sure on how to work the credit card machine. In reality, it was more like $8, but only because they didn't come and say "Where's my tip?" You don't come and claim it by the end of the day, it's ours. That's the rule.) So she said "Damn it. I'm going to get you a seating chart." Away she goes to her car. I look at her going out to her car, and say, quite loudly "You don't want me to quit. Talk about hell raining down on you. You so do not want me to quit." So she brings it to me and tells me everything I already know. She was a total ***** to me for no reason except that she wanted to be. So in the dream, she's pissed me off again. We're not in uniform. She's wearing this ugly hot pink shirt and I'm dressed in my usual jeans and t-shirt. We're at the restaurant but only a few people are there, and it's right during the supper rush hours. Something is said and she slams some kind of book closed and calls me a trashy name and I take off after her trying to get her to finish her stupid sentance. All I really remember saying in the dream was "You hate me. You love to hate me! I come in here day after day and I do my job perfectly, to the t. I do what I'm supposed to do. What I'm told, WHEN I'm told. You know who's the 'manager' around here during the day Margie? Sure as hell ain't you! It's me! What happens when the waitresses have a problem? Do they go to you? No. They come to me. You'll chew them out for being total 'idiots' and they're scared of you. I'm not afraid to hurt your feelings. I'm not afraid to yell back at you. I'm not afraid to call you a 'dirty' name. I'm not scared of what you could do to me because frankly you can't do **** to me. My life is completely f**ked right now. I've got nothing to lose. Fire me. Go ahead. Cause I don't need this. I don't need any of this. I don't need this job. You. Or this piece of **** restaurant." Yeah, it's a long speech but that is exactly what I said. And I walked out. On the upside, I was driving the 2007 Pontiac Torrent instead of the 1996 Pontiac Grand Prix. It's the God's honest truth, that place is ridiculous and if I wanted to drive 25 miles to work everyday, that job at David's Bridal would be great. At least I could wear clothes that fit. I'm wearing an F***ing shirt that's an XXL and I need a medium. It swallows me whole and they all seem to think it's ok. It just makes us look cheap. The day we opened we got our uniform shirts and I went and put on a medium, I come out of the bathroom and Margie yells at me "Take off that shirt! You don't need it! This girl needs it! It'll fit her better. Take it off! RIGHT NOW!" And I'm thinking, damn it, take the shirt off of my back. Trust me, the damn shirt doesn't fit the other girl any better than it did me. As you can tell, I HATE MY JOB! I hate it with all my heart and soul. I'd rather be broke than have to work there. The pay is stupid anyway. If Margie gets on my nerves one more time...I promise you this...if she says one more thing about the way I do my job... get this, I'm STANDING FOR 10 HOURS WITHOUT A STOOL TO SIT ON DURING THE 45 MINUTE INTERVALS WHEN NOT A SOUL WALKS UP TO THE COUNTER. I'm underage. I'm supposed to get breaks. I don't get one single break. I'm on my feet 10 hours a day, without a break. THAT IS ILLEGAL! I had a life threatening infection in my leg than can decide to wake up any time it wants to and kill me! It's docs orders that I rest my leg and they ignore it! I'm a glorified cleaning lady. My boss thinks it's cool to ask ME EVERYDAY to scrub the toilets. I'm like "I scrubbed out the ****ter 4 times yesterday, get someone else to do it today." But on the upside, there's a cook I'm "getting along" with. Don't know how long that's gonna play out. It's just STUPID to get up at 4:30 in the morning and cry because you don't want to go to work. I went from working 5am to 2 pm on Wednesdays, 6am to 2pm on Fridays and 2pm to 10pm on Saturdays to working 10:30 to 1:30 on Wednesdays, 4pm to 10pm on Fridays and 10:30 to 1:30 on Saturdays. I might as well quit. This job is a joke.