The Inevitable Key

After work yesterday (roughly around 11:30am), I came home to a blinking red light on my AT&T router box thingie meaning I had no access to the Internet. Normally this means the software decided to update without actually installing, but yesterday, Explorer told me there was a connection problem. I did what any guy would do and I picked up the phone to call AT&T because I was tired and I didn’t want to trial and error. I click on and hear nothing. No dial tone. Fuck. The phone is disconnected. Only it’s not. It’s still in service, it’s just not working.

Fuck. I check my grandmother’s house (next door) and dial tone. Why am I the only one singled out? So I walked to the back yard to check the box and see if anyone shithead teenager decided to pull a prank and that’s when I see the orange plastic barrier in the alley. So I walk toward the alley and see a fucking hole in the ground. Someone severed my phone line. By this time, I had already contacted AT&T via my cell phone. They told me that the line would be up by today.

This morning, I called the stadium manager to tell him I wasn’t going to be able to make it in, telling him (in short) my situation and how I was waiting for the technician so I can ask him who was responsible for my situation. When the manager called me back, he told me that it was all right (I did everything I needed to yesterday and today would’ve been just busy work). I had the day off until my supervisor called me to tell me I had to be in today because the team was having early practice and I needed to wash their clothes, which I quickly added that until he teaches me how to handle their uniforms, I didn’t want to wash anything because I was afraid I’d ruin them someway and didn’t want that riding on my head. He agreed and would teach me later, but if I can still go in and take inventory. I counted the most important things: towels and hangers. Because I was already there, I called him to tell him I’d be washing a few of the towels, but because I didn’t have the clubhouse keys, I had to borrow the stadium key, which belongs to the manager. If we were to stay, I had to acquire the clubhouse key from the team manager. When I told the stadium manager that my supervisor wanted the key, he called the team manager to bring him the keys.

The team manager did bring the key, but only left the one for the home team clubhouse, but we’re in the visitor clubhouse because the university is still in the home team clubhouse (this gets redundant). So in the end, I stayed with the stadium key, which I had to turn in by five because that’s when the manager leaves. I called my super and told him this. I also told him this meant I was going home before five because I had to return the key back. He responded okay.

When I got home, I called him to tell him that I’d left the number of towels and hangers on the clean towels, which I left on the dryer. Then I told him, again, why I had left. His response, “You gave the key back to him?”

“Yes. It was his key. [Team Manager] only left us the home team key which wasn’t any good to us because we’re not in there. He kept the visitor’s key.”

“What key did you use?”

“The stadium key.”

“And what did you do with the key [Team Manager] gave you?”

“I gave it back to [Stadium Manager].”

“You gave him the key?”

“Yes, but it wasn’t for the clubhouse we’re in. It’s for the home team clubhouse.”

“So what key did you use?”

“[Stadium Manager]’s key.”

“And you did what with the key?”

“I gave it back to him.”

“Why? We need that for the morning.”

“But [Team Manager] has the clubhouse key so he’s going to be the one to unlock the door.”

“Did you wash their clothes?”

“No, you said you were going to show me.”

“Why did you leave?”

“Because I had to return the key.”

“Why did you return the key?”

Well, you see where this is going. So after a little while longer, he finally got what I meant. Which is all right, but I’m afraid that our communication is going to be something like this and that makes me a little iffy of how we’re going to get along. I’m known for quitting a job because of the way someone treats me. And my track record follows me, because of the previous team that was housed there. So…I don’t know. This is gonna be one hell of a year.

And then there are those times you just want to punch someone in the fucking face. Enough said.

Ennui, the Red Shirt

I despise it when people mask apology as gratitude. Saying thank you every time you see someone working harder than everyone else isn't making them feel good about themselves - it's more likely annoying the shit out of them; well, if they're anything like me.

There was a mixer today, so a few of us were called in to work it - I was one of these people. I don't mind; I'm getting paid and the more special events I do, the better. Today, however, was just plain insane. I knew I was going to ice down the sodas - thankfully, Estela helped out with this, as did Melissa. The beer had been iced down earlier during the day as the bartender - Jose - set up his business. That was fine and dandy, I knew it was going to be like that. However, when the caterer came, we had to help her move the tables to a shaded area. Then she asked if we can help her unload. Melissa looked around for the guys who set up but the woman said they weren't with her - or weren't with her anymore at that moment. So we had to do it. Again, I expected to do things like this so I went along with it. 

There were four of us in the bar - that was more than we needed. One of us would be asked to do something else. Looking around - and coincidentally, I was wearing a red jersey - I knew I was going to be the guy they asked to do something else.

Later, Bossman told me to help the staff-less caterer and so I went, much to Melissa's taunting. While, annoyed at first - I don't like working with food - I started staring down at the trails, speaking with a few people and then to the caterer. She bought the company a couple of years ago. I told her my cousin, Damien, worked there once, but that was before her time. Staring at the spinach-artichoke dip that was set before me, I started to feel his absence again. In his honor, I tasted the dip I was against tasting when he was still with  us. 

The food was good and the night went on. When we started to pack up, I was in charge of taking things to the walk in freezer. I started with the sodas and waters. When I grabbed the second one, J asked me to help the caterer take things down. I told him I was busy, to which he said, "Well, after you're done." I have this rule - if you're not my supervisor or the person who signs my check, your needs go at the bottom of list. I still had to put away the unopened sodas, the beer, throw out the trash, and take the tables back to storage - the caterer had to wait. Luckily for the both of us, someone came to help her. I don't mind doing things for J, don't think I'm an asshole, but really the other two aforementioned are at the top of the list. Even if I'm doing something for J, if they ask me something, I'm going to drop it and do their errand - not because I don't like J, but because I want to stay on their good side. 

The night went smoothly; I sustained no injuries. Now I look forward to the even coming up next month. Let's hope it's a good one.

Return to work

Tired. Sore. Just barely alive. It's a wonder why I love doing this job so much. Only this year - considering my new status at the ballpark - I should be calling this blog "Confessions of an Assistant Clubbie." Moved on up. Sadly, not everyone came with me. Fred's still very much in the parking lot - he almost didn't get that.

Changes have been made, good changes and some bad. I'll get to the details as the season - which hasn't even started - pans out. 'Til next time.

Scooter Gang Returns

Well, we've been having problems with them since the beginning. It wasn't much a surprise that they'd eventually get caught. Bossman instructed Estella and I that the moment we see them, we escort them out. Estella found them first and of course they said they had tickets. She brought them to me, asked if I let them in already knowing what the answer was. When I said not, she called Bossman and he made sure to tell them not to return.

One of the little fuckers bravely threatened legal action by stating (as he was leaving), "I'm gonna call the cops." I laughed and repeated the threat to both my supers and they returned the laugh - "I hope he does. They're trespassing."

A while later, it was reported that the bastards started throwing rocks into the bull pin, hitting one of the players. Both Bossman and someone else chased after them and only caught one. The police were called and then the mother. Hopefully the little shits stay away from the ball park. But if they don't, we'll be waiting for them. First time's free, second time I'm sure legal action will be taken.

Wasteful

I've ignored this blog, not that anyone's reading. Is anyone's reading? I think half the time I'm keeping this record is because I want to write about work, but I also like to entertain people. Sadly, this isn't an entertainment blog - it's a blog about work. Go figure.

I think Bossman's thinking of cutting Brandon from the work list. Estella and he talked about it. Apparently, after him and Fred went to go pick up the barricades, Brandon said he was leaving. He signed out and left. Bossman said he didn't say for him to go and Estella sure as hell didn't either. This left Julie to do extra work at the gate. I couldn't relieve her as I've taken on clean up. The only thing keeping Bossman from axing Brandon is the fact we'll be short a guy.

I don't know how I feel about the guy. Half of me is annoyed by his constant bickering, the other half is apathetic.