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Jun. 30th, 2003 11:58 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
violachicI am so angry I'm shaking. I'm trying to compose my letter of resignation to Kagan and Gaines, and all the parents of students I have there. I can not work for them anymore. The greatest breach of privacy EVER has been made.
Okay. My car broke down on Thursday, so I couldn't make it into work. Which they knew, because I called to tell them so. Friday I don't teach. Saturday, I only have three students, because I moved the bulk of them to Wednesdays so I could have some flexibility for the summer. This Saturday, one of them was out of town and the other two cancelled on me. Not a big deal, as it was the spirit of the agreement we all made for having Saturday lessons. That means I wasn't in. Sunday, self-explanitory. Oh, and perhaps it is important to note that our answering machine doesn't work (some of you may have noticed) because it was attached to a fuse that burnt out and it was fried. So about twenty minutes ago, I'm sitting around the house doing stuff, writing, and thinking about cleaning, and the doorbell rings. I'm not particularly dressed, and I know my dad is out, so I opt to ignore the doorbell. It rings again. Then they walk around back and bang on the back door. By this time I"ve managed to throw on shorts and a T-shirt, and go answer the door. So, who is it?
THE WHEATON FUCKING POLICE!!!!!!!!!!!!
The kind officer said that my work had called because they were concerned because I haven't been in since Thursday, and I have apparently turned off my answering machine.
WHAT THE FUCK???????
They called the POLICE?
What kind of stick-my-nose-in-your-business Nazi's am I working with, anyway?
It is time to do this. I've been bitching about working there for a long time, and if I don't take this opportunity to leave them NOW it will just be my problem more and more. I know who it was that called the goddamned police, and I don't care to ever face her or talk to her again the rest of my life.
I don't get angry, truly angry, easily. This is the most pissed off I've been since I can remember. This is an absolutely amazing turn of events. Now I have to come up with a lightening-quick plan of events to become gainfully employed and get money FAST to pay off the car repairs. If anyone has any ideas, please let me know.
In the meantime, I've got a terse letter of resignation to write.
Sorry, Johnny. This looks like I may never find out who it was that played guitar for Muddy Waters.
**Edit (and a note of clarification): I am NOT an employee of said music store. I am a free agent that rents space from them. I get neither paycheck nor W-2 from said music store. The only responsibility I have to them is to pay my studio rent, and to keep the students happy so they keep coming back. There appears to be no problem on either issue. On top of that, I was gone all weekend, from Saturday afternoon to Sunday night. If someone had actually tried to call over the last three days, wouldn't a number appear on caller ID? It did not.**
Okay. My car broke down on Thursday, so I couldn't make it into work. Which they knew, because I called to tell them so. Friday I don't teach. Saturday, I only have three students, because I moved the bulk of them to Wednesdays so I could have some flexibility for the summer. This Saturday, one of them was out of town and the other two cancelled on me. Not a big deal, as it was the spirit of the agreement we all made for having Saturday lessons. That means I wasn't in. Sunday, self-explanitory. Oh, and perhaps it is important to note that our answering machine doesn't work (some of you may have noticed) because it was attached to a fuse that burnt out and it was fried. So about twenty minutes ago, I'm sitting around the house doing stuff, writing, and thinking about cleaning, and the doorbell rings. I'm not particularly dressed, and I know my dad is out, so I opt to ignore the doorbell. It rings again. Then they walk around back and bang on the back door. By this time I"ve managed to throw on shorts and a T-shirt, and go answer the door. So, who is it?
THE WHEATON FUCKING POLICE!!!!!!!!!!!!
The kind officer said that my work had called because they were concerned because I haven't been in since Thursday, and I have apparently turned off my answering machine.
WHAT THE FUCK???????
They called the POLICE?
What kind of stick-my-nose-in-your-business Nazi's am I working with, anyway?
It is time to do this. I've been bitching about working there for a long time, and if I don't take this opportunity to leave them NOW it will just be my problem more and more. I know who it was that called the goddamned police, and I don't care to ever face her or talk to her again the rest of my life.
I don't get angry, truly angry, easily. This is the most pissed off I've been since I can remember. This is an absolutely amazing turn of events. Now I have to come up with a lightening-quick plan of events to become gainfully employed and get money FAST to pay off the car repairs. If anyone has any ideas, please let me know.
In the meantime, I've got a terse letter of resignation to write.
Sorry, Johnny. This looks like I may never find out who it was that played guitar for Muddy Waters.
**Edit (and a note of clarification): I am NOT an employee of said music store. I am a free agent that rents space from them. I get neither paycheck nor W-2 from said music store. The only responsibility I have to them is to pay my studio rent, and to keep the students happy so they keep coming back. There appears to be no problem on either issue. On top of that, I was gone all weekend, from Saturday afternoon to Sunday night. If someone had actually tried to call over the last three days, wouldn't a number appear on caller ID? It did not.**
