A little pin of happiness

I thought a little change up in my ranting routine would be welcome. Instead of complaining about some crappy aspect of my job, this week I am going to tell you about a good one. Pins. Pins are a reward system that takes place at foodies. When we are good and do something extraordinary, we get a pin. We are like dogs, begging for treats. Some of us have hats filled with pins, and others have merely a few. I, in my two years here, have obtained a single pin: my one year pin.

When I completed a full year of employment I received my one year pin, thanking me for my hard work and dedication. I was stoked. It was a little achievement, but I got a freaking pin!! I could wear it on my hat with pride, and now I looked cooler than all the newbies that had lame pin-free hats. I wore this pin with pride, rubbed it in some faces, showed it off, because I had a pin and that made me cool. I was a four year old with a shiny new toy, captivated, spoiled. Soon, my single pin was not good enough. I wanted more, but they never came.

It’s not that I’m a bad worker, because the truth is I work harder than half of the people there, but my pins just never came. Pins were hard to obtain. There were no pins for day-to-day hard work, just extraordinary tasks. I watched new-hires got pins for going over the top to better themselves, watched others just bought their success off of Ebay, and I watched people suck up to improve their hats. I set out on a mission, a mission to pretty my oh-so ordinary uniform.

This made my sucktastic job a little more tolerable. I now went to work with a goal. I didn’t sweat the small stuff because I was working for the big picture, but the pins just never came. I desperately tried to be above and beyond with customer interaction, tried to get the orders out the fastest in the drive-through, and slaved over dishes and all of the tedious, overlooked things, but nothing. After a year of this, I was done. I would slope back into that world of pure meritocracy.

A few months ago I was offered the chance at being a five-star cashier, which I have mentioned previously. This meant going to a few classes held by my boss, passing a test at the end, and a big evaluation. These classes were held at a different Foodies location and would be with a bunch of other workers that I had never met. I had no idea what to expect at these classes or how to conduct myself. I became a shy girl who only participated in conversation through head nods and half smiles, but when the class began I was determined to stand out. Every question that my boss would ask, I would answer. I wanted this “semi-promotion” and I needed him to know that.

I had forgotten about this class, about my complete knowledge of my job and my amazing question-answering skills, until this week. My general manager (one step below the boss I mentioned) came up to me with a smile. She told me that she had just gotten off the phone with my boss and that he had nothing but good things to say about me. He told her that I represented the store very well, and that I was a delightful worker that he was glad to have on his team. With this she handed me a pin that had our logo and the word WOW written across.

Again, I lit up like a child receiving a new toy. I was beyond excited. I now had two pins, and they would be friends as they sat on my head and made my extra-ordinary uniform a little more extraordinary.