Once upon a time, many moons ago, I had the fortune of being assigned permanent night shifts. These glorious shifts were just right for me because of their length, and even though we don't get extra pay for them it is just so for me as it bumps my weekly hours up quite nicely. I did these shifts for at least two years, RHU. I slaved through them simply because I loved them. All my favourite co-workers are on this shift, excusing one or two who get on my wick, and so everything was perfect.
So perfect, in fact, that when my boss [whom I shall call Rene Oberman in honour of my namesakes hated enemy for in this rant that is what she is] asked me if I wanted to give up these hours I said that I would rather keep them. I explained about my hours and that I simply could not afford it.
She accepted this, and I thought all was well. I am not one to brag, or to expect privileges, but you would think that my never turning up late, phoning in sick or asking for unreasonable time off would count for something. So would the fact that I can count on half a hand how many times I have refused to come in when needed.
Evidently not as, not a month later, she gives my hours away.
She tells me, tactfully, that she now has someone else doing my nights, and that my hours may drop a little because of this.
Her reason: "As a young woman, I think you should spend more time with your boyfriend. I'm sure you understand."
I am, quite frankly, surprised that I managed not to shoot her.
Four years. Four years of never calling in sick [barring two times due to food poisoning.] Of never saying no to a shift that needs covering. Of breaking off evenings in with Shepard, and other plans so I can help out. Of working myself to the bone on ten day stretches so they don't have to worry, and THIS is how she repays me!
Not a month ago I was called in on the way to the Normandy from the Citadel in a Skycar, hopefully towards a relaxing evening of doing the Shepard Dance, when one of the Uniforms hails me by Link, saying how desperate they are and that they need me. I could tell that he was annoyed, and so was I [It's a sexy dance, after all.]
But, seeing as I can very rarely refuse them [and knowing who would be on shift] I agreed. Did I get a thank you? Did they even acknowledge the fact that on my Requested Day off I still came in? Of course not!
I rarely see Shepard nowadays. I start at two or Five, he finishes at three or two. By the time ten o'clock at night rolls around, the time my evening shifts end, I am too shattered to do anything more than stroke Galahad and fecking sleep, let alone Dance with Shepard. When I told Rene this, she seemed surprised.
What does my personal life have to do with my job? It has never affected it before, so why does she think it effects it now? Shepard and I were fine with the old way, and are making do with the new way.
But even now, they are asking me to cover. The people they have who took my shifts are calling in sick and I have to juggle my social life, what little there is of it, to cover it for them. I am sick and tired of it.
They asked me again tonight, before asking everyone else, and surprise, surprise they can't get cover. Maybe now she will realise that she can't keep playing me around like this. Can't keep taking and taking when I barely have enough left to give. I made plans, I make plans whenever I see that I have a day off on my calendar. I can't keep cancelling them last minute, then collapsing the next day in exhaustion.
Anyway, I needed to get that off my chest. I'm sorry if it sounds bitchy but, well.
--Lt Eve Dallas
Pissing off New York in 2061