Putting My Foot Down
Not too long ago, I was a delivery boy for an Italian restaurant. My boss paid us under the table with table scraps; $6 an hour to be exact. We had to use our own cars, we weren’t given mileage, and he decided when he wanted to pay us. The people who worked there were all jerks and insulted me on a regular basis, yet they demanded I do favors for them while on deliveries. The boss had some of the most broken English ever and he got frustrated when you didn’t understand him. He would flip out when little things went wrong. He “bag-tagged” the staff on random occasions and spoke to us like children. He was a loose cannon with no remorse.
Finally, one day after taking up an offer on a new job where I currently work as a Tech Support Analyst, I was threatened because I wasn’t focusing on my work (I busted my rear for them, constantly, this being the one exception). That’s when I put my foot down. I looked at the cook and asked him if he knew how much I cared about this job.
I told him I was doing them a favor by staying there because I didn’t need the job, the harassment, or to put up with being berated by a bunch of ignorant losers who think they’re hot stuff even though they’ve worked in a pizza shop for the last 20 years of their lives. I’ve never seen anyone’s jaw drop so low. Oh, and the boss? He was in Italy on vacation, so he got to find out about losing his fastest/best driver when he got back.
Story credit: Reddit