Andare, Partire, Tornare


It's the first day and you're already disgruntled!

Yesterday was my first "official" day as a dog washer, and there is a small voice inside of me demanding that it be my last. Nothing went horribly wrong, but there are some demands being made of me (and my aching back!) that are making my pleasant weekend job not so very pleasant.

Firstly, there's a bit of a status thing going on with the groomers vs the bathers, with the bathers, of course, being the scut workers. I understand this - the level of training between dog washer and groomer is very different - but that doesn't excuse some of the bitchiness that was emitting from the first groomer I had to work with that morning.

Secondly, I am not down with the fact that larger dogs get washed on the floor, which means you have to sort of stoop over them. You can't kneel, because you'll be in the puddling water, and you can't stand up because then you can't actually wash them. So you bend or squat for ten minutes or so per big dog. More if they're squirming.

Thirdly, the place is all about volume, which means things are always done at a hurryhurryhurry sort of speed. I can work fast, and I can work well, but combining the two isn't my preference when it comes to things like trimming toenails.

And fourthly - well, I'll just sum it up as I did for my sister last night on IM. I was scheduled that day from seven am to four.

Three o'clock -

Other Bather: I'm heading out. You've got that dog and one other to do, and that's it. See you later!"

Me: No problem, see you!

Three thirty -

One of the groomers: I took in another dog for a bath. He's back there.

Me: Um, I still have to finish up this dog and I have one more, and I'm scheduled to leave at four. (thinking - "did you ask me if I could do another dog before you accepted him? NO!)

Groomer: Oh. *pause* Well, I guess I can do him, then.

Four o'clock - I have finished both dogs and am about to say I'm leaving when a small crisis springs up and I am asked to wash a dog quickly because the owner is angry that the dog isn't done yet.

Four twenty - I am asked to help avert *another* crisis by washing another dog that hasn't been gotten to yet.

Four fifty - I am asked to fluff up a dog that is about to be picked up.

Five twenty, as I am starting to dry what I am assuming can be my last dog. Keep in mind that I have mentioned, from time to time, that I was supposed to leave at four, with no discernable results.

Me: Ok, so this will be my last dog, then.

Assorted Groomers: *blank stare*

Me: I was supposed to leave at four.

Salon Manager: What, you have something else to do today?

Me: Uh...yes, actually. (thinking, "Is she serious?") I don't want to stay the whole day, you know!

Manager: (in tones that are only semi-joking) Why not! We are!

Me, mentally: No, actually the only people who got here at seven have already left, at least several hours ago. You lot toodled in at ten thirty at the earliest, and at noon at the latest.

Me, struggling desperately to be polite: Well, I do have to get going.

Manager: Well, what time would be good for you to leave on Saturdays.

Me: I was scheduled to four. I think four is a *good* time for me to leave.

Manager: *blank stare*

Me, more firmly: I'll be leaving now.

I think you get the point. I have no objection to staying late to help out in a crisis. I do, however, have an objection to it being assumed that I will stay without being asked. And I have the niggling feeling that this is more the norm than the exception.

But I could really use the money.

But I could also do without the money while applying to the National Gallery, and just wait out the long hiring process of the government.

So I'm a little undecided. Although as Chessica said on the phone last night, "Geez, it's only been one day and you're disgruntled! Not a good sign!"

11:00 a.m. - 2002-10-27


previous - next

latest entry

about me





random entry

other diaries: