So, yesterday I had to lower everybody’s pay rates. Mine, the Almighty D’s, Gwen’s, Stefania *and* her Toady’s. Everyone. Managers I like, managers I hate. It hurt so bad to do that. I thought I might take a little glee when I lowered our Bonus Controller’s, but no. I folded the report so I could only see rates and employee id numbers, but still. Eccch.
What’s crazy is that there is this incredibly complex formula for determining what we can do to get our bucks back. It has to do with the locations increasing sales (wacky concept, I know). We’d had a meeting earlier in the week with the Head Cheese and during the Q&A portion, I found myself asking if there was anything the office people (like me) could do to make this happen – I mean, like, if I don’t screw up, do I get my 15% back?
(Nope. It’s all in the hands of the locations).
So I pipe up and ask this and apparently somewhere in the middle of the question I passed out or something because when I came to and my brain realized the stupid question my mouth was asking, my brain was screaming “SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP NOW!”
(On the bright side, both The Almighty D and Gwen told me that my question was OK and that I was the only one with the nads to ask it).
(But still. Stupid, stupid.)
It sucks losing money – it doesn’t feel American to make less money than before. We get some weird extra time off but when am I going to use that? Gwen would shoot me if I wanted to be gone for the payroll processing days and D is super crazy insane busy so I try very hard to ask her when I am desperate. (Or in Malaysia).
(ha ha)