I have a Problem With Authority. I get that, and I’ve taken measures. I’m dealing with it. Allowing for my handicap.
But! I don’t think my expectation that as an adult I am not to be yelled at, is an unreasonable stretch. I am a grownup. One of the perks of my current station in life is that I don’t get yelled at. I mean, certainly I get yelled at. Just not usually more than once by the same person. I remove yellers from my vicinity once they declare themselves. As an adult, and a human, I have that right. I realize writing this that I make it sound as if kids don’t have this right, and I guess it sounds that way because it’s true. Unfortunately, TeenHer must suffer yellers everywhere she turns: teachers, parents, other kids. She can’t just walk out of class when she’s talked down to, or screamed at. She doesn’t have the right to say “You are not allowed to treat me this way. I am leaving.” even though when she raises her voice to us we force her to go take a time out until she can use a respectful tone.
And writing this makes me want to let her know that in this house she does should have that right. But that’s another essay, about hypocrites.
Today I just want to remember: I am an intelligent human being, and I am generally good at my job. When I make mistakes, they are not malicious. My questions are valid and deserve to be addressed with respect. I do not deserve to be yelled at or talked down to. I don’t deserve to be reprimanded in public, and my boss is not a better person or a smarter person than me. The fact that she gives me the building in which to make my money and the food to sell to guests doesn’t give her the right to treat me like an unruly 5 year old every time she’s having a bad day or I make a mistake or ask a question she deems stupid. And the fact that I continue to walk into her restaurant and serve her guests, at this point, is an act of charity on my part. And I don’t have to continue this act of charity past the point that it stops enriching my life in one way or another.
Oh, man. I so saw myself in your post. Not wearing your shoes, but the shoes of your boss and they, um… Pinch.
I guess I let myself get a little worked up over crap that goes on in every restaurant and
forget that I am, for the most part, dealing with adults.
Thank you for the lesson in humility.
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