Chats in the Offing

As I'm leaving work today, after putting in another 11-hour day (total this week: 57+ hours), Bossman's wife says to me, "You have to convince Bossman to hire Brad to come in on Sundays." Bossman had mentioned to me, months ago, that Brad wanted to work Sundays at the bakery. No one--including Bossman--wants Brad around. We don't like him. The Wife, however, "misses Brad," she says, and "Bossman just can't work seven days a week." I kind of hedged and said, well, you'll have to convince a whole lot of people. To which she responds that "Bossman and I write the checks, babe."

I just left and left it at that, especially since I was on my way out the door after the aforementioned 57-hour week--you know, the one I work so that her kids can go to college, and so that she can flit in and out and do whatever bullshit she does and still collect a salary?--but I really would not have wanted to say any more, because who knows what would have come out of my mouth. (Bossman witnessed this whole interchange, and I'm sure he had some idea what I was thinking, even though it was all done in this supposedly joking fashion.) Because you know what? She has no fucking clue. And you know what else? If Brad comes back, I'm out of there. She thinks Bossman works a lot now? Wait until he has to produce 5,000 croissants a week for the store, markets, and orders--without me.

I'm friendly to her--because why not, and because I see how difficult she is and I don't see any reason to rock the boat unnecessarily--but lordy lou is she clueless. She talks about the business in "we" terms, but I'm here to tell you that she really doesn't have any idea what's involved in the business, and she sure as fuck doesn't do any serious work in the business. For one thing, if she really wanted Bossman to spend less than 14 hours/day there, she would do something more productive than nag him. And I'll bet you a dollar that she nags him constantly about am I doing the orders, because they're paying me a whole $10/hour and all.

I think Bossman and I are going to have to have a little chat on Tuesday. I certainly won't say "It's Brad or me," or anything like that; I am not a believer in ultimatums. But if Brad does come back, I will be disrupting my own personal plan in order to get out of there. It's also true that we need more help at the bakery, but we need a fuck of a lot more than Brad coming in on Sunday, which I'm sure Bossman already understands, but Wife does not. Part of the problem is that we have two people coming in on Saturdays--one from my program and one from another program in the city--who are great but who, because they're still in their programs, can only come in one day a week. Yes, fine, they'll join us full-time--in July. Bossman and I are trying to figure out how to get through June, not to mention May.

Okay, I must sleep. One of my best friends came through town last night--he's driving a car from New Jersey to California--and we were up until after 2 and then up at 6:30 this morning. It was quite wonderful to see him; I miss our long email exchanges from what seems like a million years ago. But I must now sleep, because tomorrow I must edit my butt off, then get a massage, and on Monday I must once again edit my butt off and then see a friend from the substance abuse treatment place days--and she has a car, and is willing to take me grocery shopping! Meanwhile, though, sleep.