No one is appreciative anymore. I'm fully aware that with every sport pass time, hecklers will come out of the woodwork and place in their two cents. Like Super told me in the truck when we were picking up the barricades, "Opinions are like assholes: Everyone's got one and they stink." Hecklers, by the way, are the in-the-stadium Parking Lecturers (which I should've named them Parking Philosophers, but that's giving them way too much credit).
After I finished my shift at the parking, Super told me to stay behind so I can do gate work - this is when the parking lot Nazi becomes the Beer Bouncer (it's more like a reverse bouncer: Rather than keeping people out, I cannot let those with beer in the hand out of the stadium). Of course, they can't keep me on the clock and not do anything, so before the game is even close to ending, they have me on guard. I've already been Beer Bouncer once this week, but Super figure I could do it again, just for kicks. I later found out from Bossman that I'm being paid a flat rate - which means, all that over time I just put in doesn't mean jack shit because I'm going to get paid the same. However, that means if I clock in and then clock out an hour later, I'll be paid the same rate. It's a win/lose situation, if you think about it, but at least I still get paid even on days when I work two hours.
During my time on guard - I learned after work that I was supposed to make sure that kids don't get on top of the box(?) where the baseball players are - a foul ball soared over the fence and right over the light post (while it was soaring, I swore it was going to be one of those Hollywood moments when the ball smashes into the lights, sending a flurry of sparks down below). Either way, I moved out of the way only to notice a little tyke running passed me. Luckily for him (and for me, if you think about it), the ball smashed into the bar that was directly behind us.
During this period of time, I also noticed the highly annoying and very drunk hecklers who were shouting out into the field, demanding the players to do this and that: "Hit the ball!" "What's wrong with you? The ball hit him!" "Get him off the field." And this was coming from the same table. What really upset me was when the batter (of the offending team) smashed the ball right into the stomach (it was more like the kidneys) of the pitcher. Even from where I stood, I could tell that hurt. The drunk hecklers, on the other hand, started to call him a cry baby because, you know, they obviously could take a baseball to the gut.
So like I said, no one is appreciative. People love the fact that the baseball team is back and throw their money down to see them, but they're still in some sense demanding more. Baseball, unlike a movie, isn't something that is planned - it's all by chance, a 50/50 deal. And not only are they unappreciative toward the players, but those who actually put the game together - the staff who are only getting paid a flat rate.
You're welcome, you jerks.
After I finished my shift at the parking, Super told me to stay behind so I can do gate work - this is when the parking lot Nazi becomes the Beer Bouncer (it's more like a reverse bouncer: Rather than keeping people out, I cannot let those with beer in the hand out of the stadium). Of course, they can't keep me on the clock and not do anything, so before the game is even close to ending, they have me on guard. I've already been Beer Bouncer once this week, but Super figure I could do it again, just for kicks. I later found out from Bossman that I'm being paid a flat rate - which means, all that over time I just put in doesn't mean jack shit because I'm going to get paid the same. However, that means if I clock in and then clock out an hour later, I'll be paid the same rate. It's a win/lose situation, if you think about it, but at least I still get paid even on days when I work two hours.
During my time on guard - I learned after work that I was supposed to make sure that kids don't get on top of the box(?) where the baseball players are - a foul ball soared over the fence and right over the light post (while it was soaring, I swore it was going to be one of those Hollywood moments when the ball smashes into the lights, sending a flurry of sparks down below). Either way, I moved out of the way only to notice a little tyke running passed me. Luckily for him (and for me, if you think about it), the ball smashed into the bar that was directly behind us.
During this period of time, I also noticed the highly annoying and very drunk hecklers who were shouting out into the field, demanding the players to do this and that: "Hit the ball!" "What's wrong with you? The ball hit him!" "Get him off the field." And this was coming from the same table. What really upset me was when the batter (of the offending team) smashed the ball right into the stomach (it was more like the kidneys) of the pitcher. Even from where I stood, I could tell that hurt. The drunk hecklers, on the other hand, started to call him a cry baby because, you know, they obviously could take a baseball to the gut.
So like I said, no one is appreciative. People love the fact that the baseball team is back and throw their money down to see them, but they're still in some sense demanding more. Baseball, unlike a movie, isn't something that is planned - it's all by chance, a 50/50 deal. And not only are they unappreciative toward the players, but those who actually put the game together - the staff who are only getting paid a flat rate.
You're welcome, you jerks.
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