The Importance of “FU” Money

There is some swearing in this. Just thought I would warn whoever reads this since I’m still figuring out Medium.

I got a job working at a castle that was white (think square shaped burgers). This does not end well. But not for the reasons you think.

Of course I had to go through the initial round of questions you get when you are new:

How old are you? 36.

Where did you work before here? At a salon.

Damn. How the fuck did you end up here? Uh. Craigslist? And the fact that I would like to pay my bills.

So here I was 36 years old, happily flipping burgers after midnight on the Strip in Las Vegas.

Well sort of happily. The thing about graveyard shift is you can pretty much count on a certain period of the night/morning being dead. And in that dead time we did a lot of cleaning! Taking shit apart, scrubbing, and mopping. That kind of cleaning.

But that was more an annoyance than anything. Because as soon as it got slow managers would come around yelling “Who’s going home early?” Sometimes they would walk into work saying that. Plenty of people got sent home after working 2 or 4 hours when they were supposed to be working an 8 hour shift.

Unless you worked the cash register. You were sure to work a full shift if you worked the register. I hated working the register…

Sometimes people would want to tip us. Most didn’t make a big deal when we said we don’t get tips. For the last few days I worked there people were serious about leaving a tip. Like setting money down and refusing to pick it back up serious.

But I never left with any of that money.

When I asked a coworker about it she said they (managers) take them and buy gift cards or something. Then she said “ I an’t never got one. And I had like $300 in tips.”

Wait, what?

So on my last day there I asked one of my managers “So when are we going to address this tipping situation?”

Dun. Dun. DUNNNNNN.

Could I have been less confrontational? Sure.

We go back and forth for a bit. We even get interrupted by the lone customer who strolled in at that time of morning.

“Hi welcome to (the castle that’s white)”

Then we laughed it off and got to making the order.

A little while later the head manager walks in and almost immediately calls me into the “back office.”

“Phil tells me you have questions about our tipping policy.”

Then me and him go back and forth. I’m sure he didn’t like my tone and the one he was giving me was equally shitty.

While we are talking I’m getting that angel/devil thing going on in my mind.

(Angel) Fuck this! Quit now!

(Devil) NO. Be cool. Don’t snap at whatever rude thing this guy says. Chill. Grow as a person. This is part of being an adult.

The funny thing is most of the time I can specifically remember what triggered me or pissed me off. But not this time. I think because I was working so hard not to snap. I think a lot of it had to do with how he was trying to intimidate me. You know, since he was the HEAD manager.

Here are some definite highlights:

Me: I didn’t read/sign anything that said I wouldn’t receive tips.

Him: You didn’t have to. You were hired at $9.00 an hour. You are in a non-tipped position. It’s illegal for you to accept tips… Blah, blah, blah… We have a “Tip Committee.”

Me: I wasn’t aware of any tip committee. I don’t know anything about that.

Him: No one had to tell you how to climb a ladder when you were hired. (wtf) Some things are handled as they come up.

Me: If we had a ladder climbing committe, I think I should be made aware. Vegas is a tipping town. If someone works the register they should be told how to handle the situation.

Me: staring at a spot on the wall, trying to force myself to think happy thoughts…

Him: (omg I wish I could remember what he said that was the final straw but whatever.)

Me: thinking back to a podcast I listened to “You always need to have ‘Fuck You’ money…”

Me: still thinking…hmmm…I HAVE fuck you money…

Me: I’m done.

Him: You’re done?

Me: walks out

Him: Oh you’re DONE done? We’ll clock you out.

Me: You can mail my last check to my bougie (fancy) apartment in the suburbs.

I threw that last part in there because the coworkers used to joke about me being bougie. And from the suburbs. Even though I’m unemployed and have no car.

But I do have fuck you money.

Note: That was my favorite job that I’ve ever had. Even though most of my coworkers hated it. Even though I had to leave two hours early and take two buses to get there. However… if someone will steal $1 they will steal $100 if you let them. So I wouldn’t let them.

Also it’s not about the amount of “fuck you” money. I had coworkers with way more resources and cash than me.