Dishes
hair ties American
Merkers in jail
lane change, exp dl, $50

This is what I scribbled down this morning. I had been having a few weird dreams. Until I suddenly woke up and thought I was late for my doctor's appointment at 10 so I stumbled out the door and Karen and Aidan were up, and I said "what time is it" and they said "6:30" so I turned right around and went to bed. But then I forced myself to grab a piece of scratch paper and scribble down what some of the weird dreams were. Want to hear about them? I bet you don't care. oh well!

First, the Merkers went to jail. Actually it was more like some place where you do hard labor all day long. It was in the news and everything and it was a pretty sad thing. I think I visited once. I don't know. I remember being in a place where there were a lot of people walking and I was up high on a thing like a bed that reminded me of my dorm bed when it's pushed in because there was only like two feet of "place to sit on" otherwise I'd fall off, but I thought it was a bed so I was laying there and almost falling off because it was two feet wide and thinking "well this should be no problem if I spent a whole school year sleeping on a bed this size!" I'm not sure if this happened during or after Merkers went to jail though, and I'm not sure what it really had to do with them going to jail.

Next thing I knew I was doing some news report about becca. I was showing them the full, clean dishwasher and explaining that the particular way she arranged her dishes reminded me of her. There were also specific dishes in there that gave me memories to tell of. It was weird! Just feeling so sad and stuff. I was telling all these stories about us together, but the stories I were telling didn't happen in real life and I can't remember what they were anyway.

My hair was in those braids some black people get. Except, each strand of my hair really was that thick. What's more, each strand was colored differently. I was trying to find strands colored the same and braid them together. Some of the hairs were colored like an American flag. I braided them together. Then my mom came and she was like "oh cool! I'll help you! Oh...wait, there are four green ones. These aren't really meant to be braided, dear." And I felt foolish and was not happy with her.

Then (this was the most recent because I remember it the best) becca was driving me down Maple Valley Highway. Just where we usually turn left to go to church, I said something and she turned right. On a yellow light. But the light turned red while she was in the intersection and a police car saw her and pulled up behind her with flashing lights. So she pulled over. And somehow I thought the whole thing was my fault so I would be the one to have to exhibit my driver's license. I didn't have it with me, though, and I told becca that and she gave me a weird look. Then the police officer came and becca gave the lady her driver's license. But it had expired in January! But they said it was okay, as long as she went to get her license renewed, and said "here is five dollars to reimburse you for this." But they handed her a 50 dollar bill. And I said, "That's not five dollars, that's fifty dollars!" And becca gave me a "shut up, you're ruining my life" look, and the police officer said "Oh my goodness-...

TO BE CONTINUED

actually,

NOT REALLY TO BE CONTINUED

You see, that is the point at which I woke up.

Now it is 7 22. I am rather tired. I just drank hot cider but I feel the need of at least one more cup of hot.

Ugh. I hate my schedule. Can it legally even be called a schedule? A new schedule, I may have mentioned before, is made every week, the day before it actually begins. This means that if I am working on the last day of an old schedule, I have no idea what times I am working the next day.

So, here is what my employer has done with my hours. Earlier this week, I had an odd series of days where I was off work for one day, worked three hours the next, was off the next, was on call the next, and was on call the next. Then I worked two normal days, and yesterday I got a schedule for this next week.

Of course, I don't have any days off. I work from 3-5 hours every day (this is after I told him several times I need FORTY hours and he said OKAY and this was TWO WEEKS AGO). Actually, now that I think about it, my schedule probably DOES add up to forty hours. Because, you know what he did?! He gives me 3 hours every day of the week except for Saturday where I work for 10 hours, and Sunday where I work 9.5. Oh yes, on Sunday. From 11 am to 8:30.

Now, when I was hired, and he asked me when I could work, I said this: "I can work anytime, morning, afternoon, evening, overtime, whatever - any day of the week. Except for Sunday. On Sunday I don't really want to work, but if I have to, it must be after 1 pm, because I have church. And sometimes I play piano at church, so I do have a responsibility to be there." And it was clearly understood. The Sunday after I started working there, he scheduled me for 11. I said, "I can't come in until 1." He said, "that's fine, come in when you can." I got a call in the middle of service, at 11:15. He hadn't changed the schedule. He'd left someone there alone to handle the lunch rush and told me to "come in when I could!"

After that, I heard a rumor that he was going to have me open the store on Sundays. It was just a rumor, but I didn't think it was beyond him to actually do it, so I checked just to make sure. Well, he was mad (this was a week ago). He told me not to believe rumors. He said, "Did you tell me you can't work till 1 on Sundays? Well then, I tell you, you won't work till 1 on Sundays. I am your employer, not (insert name of rumor spreading employee here). I make the rules. Don't worry! I know you can't work till 1 on Sundays!"

For the record, he also chewed out the other guy for spreading rumors. Then the other guy chewed out me for believing rumors.

So, everything is fine and dandy until the schedule this week which has me scheduled Sunday at 11. I call him up and I say, "G, this is Amber, I was just looking at the schedule, and it looks like you scheduled me on Sunday for 11 o clock in the morning." Long pause. Then, "Oh... I did it again?"

"Yes."

"Okay, and what time you come in on Sunday?"

"No earlier than 1 pm."

"Okay that's fine, come when you can."

"G, last time you said that I got called in the middle of the service. I had to have a friend drive me home, and I was not able to play piano on the last song because I was at work."

Long pause. Then, in a grumbly voice, "Okay, I guess I"ll change the schedule."

Here's what would be nice. A normal 8 hours a day, five days a week, forty hours a week schedule, with two days off IN A ROW so I could visit my family every once in a while. And I'd like my hours to be somewhat stationary. For instance, instead of working a morning one day, then a late night evening the next, then an afternoon, I want to have a steady shift. What's more, I don't want to have to stay late just because someone unthinkingly failed to schedule anyone to come after me, and then in the process of doing the jobs of the next person in the shift I have to also deal with the hassle of making necessary phone calls. And look, when I haven't planned to stay late and I do, it gets too dark to be out by myself and I sure am lucky to have good friends nearby who will drop everything and come pick me up. But it makes me so mad!

ARGH!

And this is only half of my troubles! Can I sue him? Do any lawyers read this? I want to quit so badly. But it's only for a summer. Adults would laugh, tousle my hair and say it was character building. Look, shut up about the character. I have enough of it by now, I've been working at this awful place for three weeks and it's almost more than I can bear. They didn't train me. Do you read this? I did not receive any amount of formal training at all. A week later when I hardly knew how to do anything, I was blamed. I said I didn't get trained. "oh...". So.

I feel like I should have some kind of rights.

I researched some. I found that I am actually supposed to get breaks. Imagine that! And I mean breaks longer than the time it takes to scarf down my sandwich (and better do it fast!)

I've also noticed lots of health hazards around the workplace, and most of them aren't just things that only a public health worker would notice.

I'm almost at the end of my rope, already. Blah.

And there is a lot of stuff I haven't even told you. Really. This is just not cutting it for me. I would like to sit him down and show him a list of every single thing I can't handle, and tell him that I'll have to quit unless he changes them. And if he doesn't, then I will quit.

I am unbearably frustrated.

And here I stop typing.