This is a copy of a letter that I gave to the owner of Kyteler's Inn, a restaurant in Kilkenny Ireland.
I also told "Mrs. Flynn" (a conspicuous moniker, in Ireland, where almost everybody speaks on a first-name basis) that I'd posted this letter on my website. I was persona non grata for several years.
Nikki and her minions disliked me for good reason. My writings about the restaurant and its history ranked higher on Google, for several years, than did their own pages until they figured out the value of the internet and made something worth looking at.
R_ mentioned, casually, that the woman I had been hired to replace would be returning the next weekI myself would be getting "some hours." What did he mean by "some hours?" Well, he wasn't sure until he was able to do the [work schedule.]
I worked today. At about four o'clock, my colleague N_ brought the [work schedule] to the kitchen. I found that I was scheduled for no hours in the coming week.
I was hired two weeks ago. Now, the person I was hired to replace is back, and I'm not scheduled.
I have done good work. I have cooperated with all members of your staff. I have given my time to your business. True, that only entitles me a weekly pay packet. But you could have been fair. I have, let [it] not pass unmentioned, been working for a rate that is fully 20% below the national minimum wage. And you make a truckload of money.
I went to talk to R_. R_ simply kept repeating that he doesn't have any hours for me. He's not running a charity.
You hired me knowing that you would only need me for a very short time. You did not tell me that. Of course, as R_ pointed out, maybe there will be hours in the next week. But that's not right. I'm not a boy who needs money for CD's and cinema. I need money to live.
I'd never ask you to give me hours if you don't need me, but let's be fair. You used me.
Just so you know how I feel. I didn't want to let this pass without comment. Maybe you will even accept this opinion, and treat somebody else better.
Monday, 28 October 2002