From haden112: My manager put up a supply ordering sheet in the break room, needless to say we are all taking it very seriously.
From haden112: My manager put up a supply ordering sheet in the break room, needless to say we are all taking it very seriously.
From The Daily Mail:
Teacher's pets and star employees may be held up as role models to aspire to, but they could actually be bad for the performance of everyone else.
While we are taught to believe that matching high-performing peers is a positive thing - and may give us the kick we need to succeed - a new study suggests it could have the opposite effect.
US researchers explain that exposure to exceptional performance can breed 'exemplary discouragement', pushing us away from wanting to be successful.
Todd Rogers, associate professor of public policy at Harvard Kennedy School, and Avi Feller, assistant professor at the Goldman School of Public Policy at the University of California, Berkeley, published their findings in Psychological Science.
'Exemplar discouragement is powerful: Real students who assessed exemplary peers' essays are substantially less likely to earn course credit than those who assessed average peers' essays,' the pair explained.
According to the paper, if we are exposed to something within our reach, such as an excellent paper written by someone, we are likely to try and copy their behaviours.
But, if all members of the group are seen high-performers, this can have a damaging effect and put us off.
As part of their studies, students have their work peer-graded by others on the course.
When they each submit an essay, they have to mark a random sample of other students' work.
However, when the researchers skewed the samples, so all of the randomly chosen essays were outstanding examples, they found that the student was far more likely to quit the course compared to those who had marked more typical essays, at a standard level for the class.
When they simulated the MOOC set up in a follow-up experiment, students said that they saw the high quality work as the norm and so lost interest, saying it was no longer important to them.
The findings could prove to be important in real-life classrooms, as peer marking becomes a larger part of education systems.
It could even be useful for managers to better motivate their employees, impacting on how we judge and compare those around us.
The authors continued: 'Being exposed to peers' excellent performance makes people feel less capable of performing at the level of those peers. This changed belief appears to decrease student performance.'
'Discouragement by peer excellence has theoretical implications for work on social judgement, social comparison, and reference bias and has practical implications for interventions that induce social comparisons.'
Despite the links between positive thinking and performance, such as aspiring to be the teachers pet or employee of the month, a study last year found that people perform, on average, equally well in a task regardless of how positive or negative they feel about it.
During one experiment, participants were given false feedback before a task, suggesting they would do well or perform poorly - making them optimistic or pessimistic - based on how well they had fared during training exercises.
The results showed that there was little that separated the performance of the optimistic and pessimistic groups.
After completing a second task they were asked how optimistic they felt about it. The researchers concluded that people naturally placed an importance on optimism that the test results didn't warrant. This, they said, suggests that people prescribe optimism when they believe it has the opportunity to improve the chance of success.
This is the most exciting story I've got. This was back in... I want to say 2005? Before the proliferation of smartphones, etc. It's about the time I worked at a gas station/convenience store for one whole day and ended up as a Manager and a District Manager's worst nighThe Managerare.
I'd taken the job not two days before and was told to show up at seven Assistant Manager on a Monday for training. No big deal, right? The Manager certainly seemed stable enough at the time, but I suppose that's what they say about all the crazies.
So. I show up at 7am, bright eyed and bushy tailed and ready to get to work. I'm immediately introduced to the Young Lady who's been tasked with training me by The Manager. The Manager spends the first twenty minutes of my shift not training me, but ranting and rambling about how she just worked a double graveyard and how she's bushed, and how this place just sucks her dry... you get the idea. Then she reiterates that Young Lady's going to be with me all day, training me step by step, and is then gone in a puff of smoke. Gone home to get some much-deserved sleep. Leaves her home number on a scrap of paper behind the counter "In Case Of Emergencies Only." Sensible enough.
So we get down to business. Young Lady's shocked that I'm already somewhat register- and computer-literate, and so takes the opportunity to abandon me in the backroom doing a few hours of computer training that I gather is supposed to encompass the entirety of my day. When I finish my computer training, I step out into the main store area to be relieved of duty. Young Lady instead informs me that we're now going to do some hands-on training.
...Weird... but fine... I guess... I mean, I'm not going to scoff at a few extra hours on my paycheck, so whatever. Let's do some hands on work.
The hands-on work goes on for about an hour and a half (bringing my day to about four and a half hours at this point?), until Young Lady pulls me aside and announces, with a beaming shit-eating grin on her face,
Young Lady: You know what? I think, yeah. I think fuck this place.
CIB: Fuck this place?
Young Lady: Yeah, man, fuck it. It's bullshit anyway. Fuck everything. I quit.
CIB: Like in two weeks?
Young Lady: Like, I mean, like now.
With that, she tears off her smock, lights a cigarette, and walks out of the joint, leaving me to mind the store alone. I don't know how to do cash drops, I don't know how to do most of this shit. I've been here for four hours tops.
Young Lady locks the door to the back room, shoves the key underneath the door, and is gone forever.
So, like the nice young man I am, I call The Manager's emergency number. The phone rings and rings and rings for maybe two minutes straight before she finally answers, mid-snore, with a befuddled
The Manager: ...whuzzah?
I promptly explain the situation to her and tell her that I need help. She tells me to hold tight, and that she's going to call her Assistant Manager (Assistant Manager) to come and help.
You know where this is going.
Assistant Manager never comes. I'm waiting for another two hours, and Assistant Manager never shows up. I call The Manager back. Same deal. Two minutes of continuous ringing. She promises something else. Hangs up on me.
We go through this process four more times over the course of two more hours, when the next person on-shift is due to show up anyway. He never shows. Naturally. So I call The Manager until she finally just takes her phone off the hook so I can't call her anymore.
This is the part of the story where I start to freak out.
I have no other numbers. I know no one else who works here.
I am alone. No way to clock out, no way to hide, no way to lock the doors, nothing. Just work. Only work. Forever and ever and ever and ever. I can see that this is how I die, I'm sure of it. I'm in a really shitty, boring version of Final Destination.
At this point, I feel the need to call out the dudes who ran the tattoo shop across the street. They'd been coming in for cokes and energy drinks and such throughout the day, and had taken a keen interest in my well-being. They were pretty "up" on the situation, and kept me reasonably calm throughout the day. They noticed that I was starting to freak out. Asked me what the situation was. I explained.
Just like that, these badasses jump into action: they bring me their phonebook with all the numbers of the other stores in the area circled, and they go to the local taco cart and get me a plate of tacos and a coke "to keep my strength up."
I'm not into dudes, but I considered asking these guys to marry me then and there.
Fueled by tacos and sheer, unadulterated panic, I start making calls. Other stores are shocked by what's happened, but don't have anyone to spare. They've got no one.
One of them gives me the District Manager's home number. Bingo. I explained the situation to him, and listened as he went from perfectly congenial to absolutely terrified. He tells me:
District Manager: I'm coming down there to personally relieve you from your shift...
District Manager: ...but I'm going to need about an hour and a half. Is that okay?
Welcome to my breaking point. I begin to shout and shout and shout.
CIB: No, that is not alright. Tell you what, District Manager - either you get down here in half an hour, or I am going to open the cash registers, the safe, turn the gas pumps on unlimited run and go home. Is that what you want?? FREE GAS AND FREE MONEY FOR EVERYONE WHO COMES INTO THE STORE UNTIL THERE'S NO MORE MONEY! IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT?!
District Manager: ...I'll be there in twenty minutes.
I now see what has happened: I have officially been taken hostage by this store, and have taken it hostage in return. I am now the crazy person in the situation. I'm the movie bad guy. I'm the one making demands.
But you know what? He got there in fifteen minutes flat.
And you know what? He was very nice, all said and told. He apologized profusely, even helped me actually kick in the locked backroom door so I could clock out all proper-like. It's 10:30pm. Finally.
But then The Manager, in her pajamas, eyes bloodshot and wild, murderous and back from the dead like the last bad guy in Die Hard, comes storming into the store, screaming at District Manager, who had apparently gotten her to answer her phone during his trip over:
The Manager: District Manager, how fucking dare you tell me how to run my store, I swear to fuck you've been telling me what to do fortoo long now and I am telling you for the last time--
District Manager turns to me as The Manager is shrieking, and he says something that makes me start laughing like a psychotic.
District Manager: Go home, CIB. I've got this.
Shit, you don't have to tell me twice, amigo. I'm gone. When I get to the door, finally, he calls after me and says:
District Manager: I really hope this doesn't affect your future with the company.
I never went back.
I have been employed by current Fancy Store for almost three years as a seamstress/alterations customer service rep. As we are a small/low-volume store, we don't get enough hours to have a designated receptionist (answers phones, retrieves customers from front), or designated fitters (people who ONLY do fittings), or steamers (people who ONLY come in certain times a week and steam completed dresses). Instead, we have the FT manager and 3-4 PT jacks-of-all-trades.
My problem began when "Meryl Streep" (think Devil Wears Prada) returned from an extended vacation. She's a retiree, as is her husband, and they're 'snowbirds.' Meaning that every other year, we only have to deal with her for about three months. Nope. F***king A, of course she's back to stay. And I'm sick of her shit.
Ladies and gents, this is going to be a full-fledged rant from front to back. Most of it I can't prove, I'll let you know that right from the start, but I'm still pretty sure it's going down just from the responses that I'm getting from the people I've interacted with (that means customers AND management). My manager knows that she's giving me shit, but her hands are tied. The only thing she can do is make sure I don't have to work the same shift as MS.
Here we go!
CUSTOMER SERVICE OUT FRONT. (Aka customer is purchasing and wants an opinion from a seamstress)
My manager was commiserating with me one day and shared this gem: She (being fairly new at the whole seamstress thing: Corporate wants someone who can Drive Profit! Increase Tickets! Be FT Without Sewing!) took MS with her to the floor.
Pregnant bride: no probs, we deal with them all the time. Bride wants to wear a pale pink long formal gown, okay, we've seen other girls in this situation who wore the exact same thing.
Salesgirl has bride in a dress 2 sizes up from normal to accommodate Belly.
MGR says, "Hey, you might want to go up a size, ya know? Just to make sure?"
She doesn't know everything, but she DOES understand it's easier and less risky to take in than it would be to let out the side seams.
MS says, "But, but, MGR, look at this! Look at this seam! We only have this much to let out!"
MGR is fuming while MS talks down to her for about ten minutes, bride and sales are just standing there, openmouthed. Finally bride says, exasperated, "Forget it. I don't want this dress anymore." She gets changed and ... I don't know. MGR ended the story on a bitter huff. At least I'm not alone in my hatred of MS.
Yes. I'm leaving. I'm done. The job hunt is on; I've heard back from one work-at-home place but trying to get in-person help just in case it falls through.
Meryl Streep has been ranting to management that none of us know what the hell we're doing and shouldn't be allowed to sit at a machine without her supervision. I mentioned earlier that the manager is FT and the rest of us are PT; however, due to scheduling and payroll and sales volume, we only usually get about 70 hours a week. For a store that's open a grand total of 65 hours a week, well, we're pretty screwed hours-wise. Manager is taking cuts right now (35 hours a week) and guess who's getting 20-25 hours consistently while the rest of us suffer?
Store management has taken over payroll and staffing and scheduling because she informed them that "the manager doesn't know what she's doing." Meryl darlin' is now the resident authority on who should be trusted with what tasks. I'm finally getting to be there on a sewing day next week... they've had me stuck on pickup evenings continuously for the last four weeks. (And averaging 5 hours a week. My husband is working two jobs with a torn ACL, torn rotator cuff, and chronic bronchitis... due to her. Thanks, bitch.)
What pisses me off is when she screws up the sewing on purpose, 'cause guess who pinned that in the first place, and guess who gets to deal with the pissed off customer: it sure isn't her! Have dealt with three (count them: three) customers in the last two months where this situation occurred. I pinned their dress. M sewed it. I fit it. That isn't how I pinned it... Started making a list now.
Enter the manager. I finally clued her in on what has been going on for about a month now, which is when I found out what's going on behind the scenes.
See, Meryl has a friend (who we'll call Simon Cowell for REASONS.)... Simon worked for the company a couple of years ago, and won our department a lot of revenue-based rewards (best in district in terms of profit, met goals, etc.) but the DM can't stand her. At all. Some kind of abrasive personality, I think? Simon and Meryl have decided on a plan of attack that involves getting S rehired as a seamstress and making MGR's life hell. M is making my life hell so I will leave--keep in mind, I've been employed the longest--and MGR will panic, have to hire another seamstress, and fall right into the P/M trap.
I know it. MGR knows it. Store manager knows it. About half of the employees know it. Meryl Streep is driving away business with her rude, condescending behavior, turning coworkers into management for fictional issues, hiding schedules (whole nuther rant right there), sabotaging the dresses she didn't pin so we can look bad and she can save the day (???), and just being a general bitch.
What can we do about it? Not a damn thing. She's sneaky and leaves no proof. And we have no cameras in the store because there MIGHT be an issue with recording half-dressed females. (On a side note, you wouldn't believe how many women choose not to wear underwear under formal gowns..............)
(The customer's initial "official" interaction with us: we talk out what she wants, how much it's going to cost, she pays, we set up a pickup date, and that's the end of it.)
Meryl Streep is a rude, condescending old bitch. She picks the wrong 'task' on our paper tickets--so judge me, but we don't have POS set up in the back, and we're extremely forgetful--and undercharges. Consistently. Guess who doesn't get written up for it. Guess who DOES. (Not for her errors, but for "costing the company $250" by charging correctly.)
We're supposed to pin and note the ticket assuming that we probably won't sew it and someone else needs to pick up the dress completely understanding what happened and what still needs to happen. Nope. MS has to sew at least half of her fitted dresses because nobody f**king understands what she's done with the pins, and she doesn't write down ANYTHING.
Hello. Being a bitchy 70-year-old does not mean you are allowed to lord it over the rest of us, NOR does it mean you can set us all up for failure.
DEALING WITH COWORKERS (aka why the rest of us hate her).
As detailed in my last age-related post, I'm only (whoopee! 21! IRL cakeday!). Have been sewing since age 4. I know what I'm doing.
Fellow employees are twenty- and thirtysomethings. When our shifts overlap and we're both sewing, (oh God) Streep gets interested. "What are you working on, mejoyh2006?"
Me: "Oh, nothing, just <customer>'s bustle..."
Streep: "Oh, well," ~snort~ "Isn't that just a <details>?"
Streep: "Well, I'M doing <details> and it's just SUCH A PAIN because I have to <boring but necessary part>."
Stop griping about this job. You don't even need it, according to what you've said.
Stop telling me how to do my job. I was hired because I knew my shit and could sew a straight line.
You know, the managers are all pretty cool outside of work... just something about money flips the "bitch-switch". They're all younger women, too, which could explain something to do with turnover and changes to customer service?
I've noticed that the larger the store volume is, the ruder the clientele AND the workers get. Moral of the story is go to the teeny-tiny ones! There are 3-4 large stores within 2 hours of us, but guess what store has the better reputation and customer service scores :D I see brides that drove three hours so they wouldn't have to go to Large Store. That's a special feeling right there...
Got to deal with a DM once. Oh, God, higher corporate is nothing but old bitter women, I swear. >.<
She threw out my sewing manager's car title because SHE HAD DARED TO STORE IT ON HER CLIPBOARD. Two days of hell, is what that was, and she wanted to fire me for doing what the sewing manager had been taught to do/was doing wrong and expecting the rest of us to do. (Thank goodness, I was studying for finals at the time and my manager declined to call me in for a "meeting.")
A few years ago I had gotten a nice little job working at a family owned deli. It was a quaint little store that sold organic meats and dairy, cheese, coffee and sandwiches. We only had about 6 members of staff and we all got along fairly well which made working enjoyable. The only downside was the boss/owner. He always had to be everyone's friend, was irresponsible (always sent out the schedule the night before a new week, was late giving out paychecks, etc) and had a bad temper.
Anyways, myself and a coworker (one of the chefs) are opening up the store on a Saturday morning. Everything is going fine, morning duties are getting done, the only thing that's missing is the boss. He was supposed to meet us first thing this morning.
Coworker: "He probably just had a late night, he'll call soon."
Me: "Okay, no biggie."
So I continue with my duties when I realize I forgot to clean the bathroom the night before. So I grab the broom and swing the door open when- THUD! I look down. I've just whacked my boss in the head with the bathroom door.
I wasn't expecting anyone else to be there, let alone someone lying on the bathroom floor, so I gasp "Oh my god!" and run out of the bathroom.
Coworker: "What's wrong?!"
Me: "I don't know, but [boss] is on the bathroom floor. We should check to see if he's okay?"
Coworker: (laughing) "Nah, he's fine. He does this all the time. I'll just make him a coffee."
At this point I'm just like "wtf" but I tell my coworker how I hit his head with the door and I'm kind of freaking out because I don't want to get fired. My coworker just laughs again and tell me to follow him into the kitchen. He opens the ice maker and shows me (not kidding) 2 half empty vodka bottles, an almost-empty bottle of whiskey and about 4 unopened beers. Then he opens the trash can and there's an empty bottle of wine, another vodka bottle and too-many-to-count beer cans.
Coworker: "Don't worry, he's probably still drunk and can't feel a thing."
Sure enough, after downing the espresso, my boss managed to stumble out of the bathroom and grumbled at me to call him a cab. He never brought the subject up again and thankfully, I wasn't there too much longer to experience it a second time.