When Will Death Come?

[ryanreacts]

Today is (barely) July 24th, which means that for more than a month life has really been sucking out loud.

On June 19th, after a few weeks of planning it, Frankie & I unfortunately left Crazy Mountain Ranch. Here is the email I sent to explain our departure:

Dear CMR HR,

My sister and I have truly enjoyed & appreciated our time living on the ranch, and for the most part we love our jobs. If we could, we would stay here for at least two years, possibly even longer.

Unfortunately, as of this writing, we are both resigning - effective immediately.

Why are we doing this?

Because Tory McFail* is completely toxic. 

He's a narcissist. One of the worst I have ever met in my life.

He's arrogant, condescending, and just a jerk who is generally unpleasant to be around for more than ten seconds at a time. He might tell you to do something one way one day, then snap at you for not doing it a different way next week. He plays favorites, and for some reason his favorite dishwasher is the one who works the least & whines the loudest - whose idea of refilling the salad bar is to put new food on top of old food instead of just getting a new pan. He is prone to the sort of mood swings you would expect when dealing with a toddler. Or a drug addict. He doesn't listen, just talks in circles. He doesn't care that his kitchen is way more chaotic than it needs to be, or that whenever he's around everyone wishes he would just go home. Or take a vacation.

He is racist, sexist, and fatphobic.

If I was here by myself, I could tolerate all of this: Just keep my head down, focus on the money, and stay out of his way as much as possible.

But I am here with Frankie, and for some reason he simply refuses to be nice to her. He cannot go more than a few days without saying something horrible to her. He has thirty-five years of experience, but expects her to master everything he says as soon as he says it even though she's been a professional cook for six weeks. He warns her that she better not use her mental health struggles as an excuse to move her body slow, even though science tells us that trauma lives in the body, so Frankie and I are both ALWAYS in pain, and sometimes it does take us a bit longer to get moving. He harasses her about needing a meal break, and tells her that if it's longer than fifteen minutes she needs to clock out. 

He has told her on multiple occasions that, by continuing to employ her, the company is "bleeding money."

He confronts her at work about the recycling bins in our dorm. No one announced that Housekeeping was no longer going to collect recycling, so everyone who lives in our dorm INCLUDING TORY HIMSELF left a bit too much stuff in both bins because we didn't know they weren't going to be emptied on Monday, but somehow, in his mind, it makes perfect sense to reprimand Frankie for this as if it is her fault and her fault alone (while looking at her like he wants to murder her, by the way), then write a note which he leaves on our table for approximately twenty-four hours and then discards without confirming that everyone actually read it (I did not). I guess it didn't occur to him that he could have outlined the recycling guidelines in an email and sent it to every single person who lives in Staff Housing.

We wanted to file a complaint a long time ago, but we were told that at least one higher-up, one of the owners or something, really likes him (in spite of the Dave's Sushi thing), so complaining about him would most likely result in us getting fired. So we kept quiet and planned our escape in secret. We honestly did not want to leave with no warning, but we were afraid that if we did give notice he would either fire us & evict us OR spend every second of our last two weeks being an even bigger jerk to Frankie than usual.

We will truly miss working with almost everyone in the kitchen and FOH - especially Jenn, Chunk, Daniel, Blair, Omar, Al, Payten, Peyton, Alley, Lily, Caroline, Tyler, and any other servers whose names I can't remember. We are sorry to leave you working with him without us, but he really did push us past our breaking point. Frankie has been so stressed out that she's physically sick, and keeping her safe is my top priority, so we are doing what we have to do to take care of each other.

Thank you for a wonderful six months.

Goodbye,

Ryan & Frankie Bish

 

When we left, the first thing we did was take a vacation. Or try to, anyway. We couldn't really fully relax, since our new ranch had not officially offered us jobs yet. If it was up to me we would have stayed put until they did, but Frankie was truly miserable, so I went along with her slightly crazy plan to get the fuck out of there as soon as possible.

Eventually, we did in fact get official offers from Missouri River Ranch. We arrived here Sunday. Unfortunately, they were either unwilling or unable to give us any kind of tour before we moved in, so I had no idea that MY BEDROOM ONLY HAS TWO COMPLETE WALLS until it was too late. Oh yes, the other two walls are like forty percent walls and sixty percent barn doors. If I had seen this room before we moved in, I would have said no thank you. Light & sound can both get through the barn doors, so even though the room includes two noise machines I can't listen to music or watch tv without earbuds because it could bother my neighbors. Also, pretty much any time I move, I worry that it will bother my neighbors. Right now I'm worried that someone will complain about my bedside lamp being on at 12:15 AM even though today is our Sunday and at least one of my neighbors is off property all weekend.

Anyway. Frankie did find a cabin for rent on Craigslist, which we checked out in person a few days ago. The older couple who own it have done quite a lot of seasonal work themselves, so they understand why we're just slightly tired of it. Frankie has already been offered at least one job in Helena, which is a short drive from the cabin. I've been applying anywhere that sounds like I could make it work.

Unfortunately, Frankie and I are both getting on each other's nerves right now. You might think it would just be me feeling annoyed with her for making us move to this stupid place without seeing the housing, but no, just about every little thing I do or say or think or feel annoys her, too.

I'm not explaining this very well, but the point is I am really struggling to hold on to any kind of hope. My will to live has never been this low before. I wish I could just sleep forever, even if I have to slit my wrists to do it. No matter how good things might get for a little while, eventually I always end up back in some stupid pathetic desperate situation with not enough money to get myself out of it.

Oh! And even if my bedroom wasn't a sensory nightmare that makes me want to kill myself, this ranch makes employees work ELEVEN DAYS IN A ROW. Which Frankie convinced herself would be okay since we get free food every day we work, but they do not make enough food to feed everybody. Plus there's a lot of walking, which hurts the foot she fractured in November. Plus it's hot. Plus, I don't even know, she just complains a lot. A lot.

So I am grateful that we're planning to move somewhere much better in like a week, and trying to stay hopeful that I will get a job in Helena (I'd really love to be a budtender again), but mostly I just feel absolutely hopeless all the time. It's like I'm always stuck in survival mode, and staying alive is such a struggle, and FOR WHAT? Keep struggling to keep living so I can struggle some more?







*Yes, his last name actually is McPhail. I just tweaked the spelling a little bit to be mean.