1.01.2004

not about heat costs.

You know that mom in the sitcoms? I know you do, she's in the commercials, too. She's always running around, sometimes to the tune of some fast-paced classical piece, cutting off all the lights in the house, pausing only to lecture her family on the electricity bill. They watch her run around, usually sitting on the couch, moving only their eyes as they follow her frantic money-saving movement.

Yeah, that's me. Although I've been unable as of yet to find an appropriate soundtrack, "The Flight of the Bumblebee" perhaps, I'm the one that's always turning off extra lights and cutting down the heat.

I hate running the heat. It's expensive, but unfortunately, in our basement apartment in the mountains, it's pretty necessary. You cannot type in gloves, trust me. So we run the heat. But I insist that if we run the heat, we have to keep the doors closed. Each room has its own heater, so as long as you keep the door closed, the heat stays in and the heater runs less often.

This concept, it's a troublesome one. There are certain members of this household (NICK! NICK! NICK!), who seem unable to close a door. So I can be seen pulling the bathroom door closed with a loud and frustrated sigh several times a day.

It's a problem that gives me much thought. The bathroom is misery without the heat. Could I install a spring that automatically shuts the door? Perhaps some sort of apparatus that turns the heat off if the door is open. Maybe we just shouldn't let Nick use the facilities anymore.

And then the idea came to put up a sign. A sign telling any and all users of this restroom that they must close the door after using it, or else some sort of terrible punishment will be inflicted upon them. As soon as the idea of the sign came to me, I knew that I had been working at Vintner's too long.

Ah, and you thought this entry was about heat costs!

Joe and Lynn, owners and managers of Vintner's Restaurant and Wine Shoppe, the establishment at which I am employed, are big fans of signs. Signs that give us, the humble workers, guidance as to how to behave so as to avoid consequences, usually "termination". I really don't know much about termination, but I have seen those Terminator movies, and they don't look pleasant.

The signs tell us to ring up beverages (or we pay for them), to not stack dishes in the waitstation (suspension), that lemonade is not on the free beverage list (ominously lists no punishment), where the styrofoam cups can now be found (behind the bar, but we can't use them for personal use or we pay for them), and who is allowed to use the telephone.

The signs tell us very obvious things. Things that Lynn and Joe could simply verbalize to us, and we would nod, and it would be fine. There would not even need be threats of termination. We could all just act like adults and be treated like we are intelligent enough to know where the styrofoam cups are and that we can't use them.

The telephone signs were some of my favorites. They were little green ones, written by Lynn, saying that no one but she, Joe, and the night manager at the time were allowed to take reservations. The day manager at the time took offense, took down the signs, and threw them away. Lynn put them back. He took them down. This continued for several days until apparently there was a heated phone conversation between the two of them over the little green notes. I personally find that when adults act like children, it makes me feel better about myself.

The signs generally make some sort of stir for the first couple of weeks that they are up. The instructions are followed, because though no one knows what termination is, we surely don't want to find out. And then after a while, they start to get a little ragged and ripped and ridiculed. The ones that were typed on the computer generally have spelling or grammar errors, and after a couple of weeks the people like me have the courage to correct them when we think no one is looking. And then one day they come down and no one really notices.

There was one sign that was posted near the waitstation that said "Do not ask to be cut until 2:00 pm or 8:00 pm for night shift" followed by a completely unnecessary amount of exclamation points and some sort of vague threat. A few weeks later, some clever person made a spelling change, and the sign then admonished us not to ask to be cute until the right time. As if I could help being cute. When the jokes start rolling, it's a sign that we can probably do whatever the sign tells us not to do without worrying about termination or amputation or whatever it is being threatened. I myself asked if we could request which weeks we were to be suspended for leaving dishes in the waitstation, since I had a vacation coming up.

I hate the signs. Everyone hates them, hates the obvious things they tell us, hates being treated as very stupid, yet literate children. And yet I considered putting one up in my very own home.

I realize now that such a sign would never work here. No one would take it seriously, and I bet they'd leave the door open just to annoy me. But most importantly is the fact that I don't have anything I can threaten to do. I cannot terminate or suspend my roommates. I cannot make them pay for beverages, though I have tried. I will just have to stifle my sighs and shut the stupid door.

But I won't let them ask to be cute until after 2 pm.

No comments: