Starting the Countdown

after the long conversation we had with our program lead, the three of us were called in for one-on-one meetings with our least favorite manager. i had checked my email from home just before heading out and realized this in time to changed my outfit for the event.


"why are you dressed like this?" he asked uncomfortably.

"i don't want to be written up for dressing casual on a tuesday," i stated.

"and you felt it necessary to wear a tuxedo? you look like you're going to prom."

"i just wanted to make sure you knew i take this job seriously."

"look," he sighed, "you and i both know this is not appropriate for a business setting."

"based on what?" i asked, "i'm strictly abiding by the formal dress code: slacks, loafers, collared shirt, optional tie, and blazer."

"i'm not going to write you up for this," he said, "but you can't dress like this again."

it would've been my great pleasure to be written up for wearing a fred astaire tuxedo to work.

"you seem like you're in a bad mood," he continued, "you're hardly making eye contact with me."

"i am in a bad mood," i stated, "because it took you one month to respond to my email about a schedule change. you responded to only my third attempt and simply because my program lead got involved."

"you should've given it to me in person."

"i did. the night of july sixth, i handed you one."

"no you didn't. you never did that."

it's like playing checkers with an eight year-old. in the world of "cover your ass" corporate america, am i expected to take photographic evidence of everything i do as well?

"did you expect to just get your schedule changed immediately?"

"no," i said, "but i expected a reply that might prove you'd at least read my request. had i treated a client, or even you, the way you treated me i would've been in a great deal of trouble. i thought this company was all about timely responses and confirmations-- but you can't even respond to me till the third email? after a month? you have no trouble emailing us when you want something from us-- like a request that we come in on our days off."

"there just seems to be all this pent up anger and it's coming out of nowhere," he said confused.

"it's not coming out of nowhere," i said, "i tried to play by your rules-- which i did not initially understand-- and now that i'm emailing, following up and doing everything i was taught to do, i'm finding playing your game doesn't work."

"who taught you to email everything? you could've just come to me with your concerns."

"I DID!" i shouted, "and guess what? you don't remember it happening and i now have no proof i did. versus the email: i can prove i mailed you july 10th and it took you twenty days to respond."

there was a pause and i watched the cars speed by on the bay bridge. i remember being so excited about having a view of the bridge when i first got the job. now i just feel bad for all of those commuters headed to a depressing office where not even office plants have enough soul to survive.

my manager looked me up and down, focusing mostly on my white bow-tie.

"i just feel like i'm having trouble finding the person i used to know," he said sadly, "you're all upset and you don't seem interested in being here."

"look," i said calmly, "you never knew me. so i can't begin to understand what that statement means. but more than that, i am not happy to be here 2-11pm friday through tuesday. that's why i asked for a schedule change: so i could have a scrap of my own life rather than just coming to work, going home and sleeping and repeating five days out of the week and then spending my entire weekend doing the chores that cannot be done due to a 2-11pm shift. it would be one thing if i was coming here during those hours to actually work, or to actually be appreciated. but i'm utterly useless and ignored."

"why did you sign up for this shift then?"

oh i am in such a dark time of my life right now. considering it all, i think i'm doing alright. the way this job began, the circumstances of it, and being an extrovert who recharges by talking to people but is forced to stay in an environment where talking to people rarely happens. considering it all, i think i'm doing alright. but it's a dark time.

"i took the shift because i was dating a server and it would've worked well with her shift," i said, having a horrible silent flashback,"but again, i'm not as upset that it can't be changed as much as i am your complete disregard of my request and the fact it took this long to find out it can't be changed. that's just rude."

"you have to understand," he plead, "we on the manager team do a lot of other work and it's easy to forget those things."

he was wasting my time. not only was the experience with email incongruous to the supposed morals of this office, but his excuses were even worse. i couldn't handle it. this man spends the majority of his time in the office walking back and forth looking for someone to lecture. writing people for wearing shorts in an office that no clients visit. the shorts were what caused my tuxedo.

"i'm gonna be straight with you," i stopped him, "i do not have to understand any of that and here's why: it has nothing to do with me. it's your job. do you remember when i got hired and was going through a horrible break-up and kept fucking up at work? that nearly cost me my job. and why? because my issues, behind the scenes, had nothing to do with you. it didn't matter what load of work i had at home or in the office-- i was expected to make no mistakes regardless. so you being busy means nothing to me. you have responsibilities that you signed up for as my manager."

i'd like to believe everyone will find themselves dressed in a 1920's tailcoat and bow-tie while yelling at a superior once in their life. if not, this was a special moment which i will never forget.

"so," he said, "what do you want here?"

"i want you to know i'm upset," i said, "and i want you to know it's not just me. i happen to have a mouth and i don't sit quietly when i'm upset. all this company is doing is stacking bricks higher and higher as fast as it can, saying, 'let's go global! faster! faster!' and no one is stopping to think about the foundation. you think it can just keep growing regardless of how you treat the people on the bottom and i will say this: as a concierge i have a much closer relationship with the concierge team than you as manager, and i'm not the only one who is pissed right now. i'm also not the only one who failed to receive a response to an email regarding a schedule change, raise, or a day off."

"oh believe me," he said, "i know you know more about the other concierge than i will. that's just how it is. but how can we fix this?"

"how about paying us commission for what we do?" i started, "whenever i book a hotel, a car, a show, anything, they always ask for our IATA number and say, 'just want to make sure you get the commission you deserve.' and i clench my jaw because i know someone is getting that money, but it certainly isn't me. i don't even want all of it, but the concierge deserve a percentage and you know that."

"well, you have the superscores."

i'll hand him, he's pretty good at distracting you from what you were talking about by bringing up something else that's even worse but only hardly tangent.

"the superscores?" i laughed, "if i get 100% on my q/a scores, i'll get 2% of my quarterly pay. first off, no one can get a 100% because by saying 'um' once, we lose 4%. by not referring to the client by name three times in every call, we lose 4%. it's designed so no one gets 100%. then there's vendor screens: if i book enough hotels, cars, etc and make enough vendor screens i can get another 2%. the company gets something like $4,000 and i get $200. and that's before tax. bonus tax is 50%. so i get a $100 bonus. do you see what i mean?"

"you've broken down every part of this job," he said, "and don't like it. so why are you here?"

"you and i both know most of us cannot afford to leave. and again, this is not just me: your team is not happy-- i'm telling you this as someone not afraid to speak up so you'll do what you can to change it as a manager."

"i really feel like if this is not a fit for you, it may be best you called it quits."

"it sounds like you're asking me to quit. if that's your route, you're just going to have to fire me."

"what time is it?" he said suddenly, "this meeting has gone over time. you should go back to your desk. cool?"

"cool enough for me."

interesting. i don't believe he can fire me. in fact, i'm sure of it. he wanted to get rid of me so badly, but he couldn't. i haven't had any more escalations than anyone else and i haven't ever missed a day of work. i've never even been written up.

i left that meeting room as a small hero amongst other upset concierge. the very definition of "bad management" is when a manager admits his minion knows more about his other minions, yet tries to suggest they quit when the low morale of his team is mentioned. many of the concierge cannot afford to lose their job due to marriages, families, or simply having been a part of the company for so long they wouldn't have anywhere else to go.

but i don't have any attachment here.

this needs to be said for everyone else who can't do it themselves. and you would not believe how many salutes and pats on the backs i got after the one-on-one with our ignorant manager.

"it's been tried before," a veteran concierge said, "but it's refreshing to see a new face come in and try it again."

"am i far off base?" i asked the concierge. i respect him quite a bit and would hate to hear him call me a baby about the situation.

"no," he said, "you're dead on. and it's great to see someone try this again-- but it doesn't work-- it's been tried. every five years or so, there's a new concierge team and one of them stands up to the company and it's refreshing... but it never works. it's been done before."

"has it been done in a 1920's tailcoat and white bow-tie?"

"it hasn't," he said, "and it is really nice to see someone try this again. it's like a new hope."