.what? job? HAH!

yes, hah!, we say.

I could dive into a long and tragic story about my 2 weeks spent at Wesley Acres so far. Suffice it to say that I feel abused by both management and the administration of the camp. The whole kitchenstaff does. I am debating whether I should stay in the camp before things get ugly and we all get fired. Since I don't feel like ranting and it wouldn't get the feeling across anyway, I'll paint a snapshot of what I have seen since I have been here.

The day before payday, and I have clocked a 90 hour workweek. The rest of the staff, 15 year olds included amongst them, have clocked 80 hour workweeks. My manager calmly goes to each of the staff in succession. First is Lance. She has his timesheet. She takes him by the shoulder and whispers in his ear.
"How many hours did you clock this week, Lance?"
"81."
"No you didn't. See here? It says that you worked til 8:30 pm on Tuesday. No one worked that late except Shannon."
"But I did, I had to clean out the dishwasher." he looks confused.
"That was unauthorized overtime, and you didn't stay that late. I need to justify my labour costs, and I'm sorry, but these hours can't stay on this sheet. And here, on Wednesday, you took a break. It isn't written."
"No, we worked straight through til-"
"No, you took a break, I remember. These discrepancies are bad, Lance, but I'll correct them before Elaine sees them."
Some broke into tears. Losing one's hardworked hours by being called a liar can't be easy.

I am currently deciding whether to stay or go...or lose my reputation at this camp completely by looking into what the labour relations act says about what has been going on. I won't lie, I am miserable. I love this camp, but we are not being listened to.

On a happier note, it's kids camp week and I'm making a myriad of new lil buddies who like my cooking and want two tongue piercings just like me. I am in Peterborough for my first day off in 2 weeks, and it will be a wonderful combination of destressing and rants on labour rights from my dad. I am his daughter, his little shit disturber...I think he is more proud about that trait than he would like to admit. All you locals, call me, and come to the james kent show.