At my last job it was like pulling teeth. We didn’t even get to use our holiday time. Usually we got paid off for it—we weren’t allowed to use it.
We were always understaffed and there always had to be someone there on the scheduled shifts, so when someone called in, someone else had to cover for them. So the supervisors were always desperate for more people to put in the hours so they gave us the bare minimum of days off.
Once a year they’d pass around the vacation calendar and we all picked out our vacation days, up to a year in advance. You had to know what days you wanted off for the next 12 months. If you got your desired days off, the policy was that you were guaranteed those days off—they couldn’t take them away from you at the last moment. That was the nice part, (also that we got 3 weeks vacation a year—very nice), but that didn’t allow for last minute days off, or plans that hadn’t been quite cemented yet. Getting days off for those kinds of situations was almost impossible. Not quite impossible, but close.
We also were in a situation where if someone didn’t come into relieve you on your shift, you HAD to stay over until someone (usually a boss) could come in to take over. (This was a healthcare-related job and we couldn’t leave the patients alone.) The bosses hated to come in and cover someone else’s shift, so they’d try to wheedle and guilt you into working 16 hours so they wouldn’t have to come in. (And of course, you were expected to be back at work the next day, Johnny on the Spot, the next morning, with much less than 8 hours of sleep under your belt.) Yeah. That was great. (I didn’t do a lot of overtime myself, because I hated not getting enough sleep.)
There was also one time where one guy was off work because of one of his vacation days, but the supervisor in charge forgot about it so she forgot to schedule anyone to cover his shift. When he didn’t show up for work, she called him at home, all in a self-righteous snit, demanding to know why he was late. When he told her that he was on vacation, she still was pissed, and said, “Well, you never told me.” (Like yeah, forget the fact that it’s her JOB to know when his vacation days are.) She had such a fit that she guilted the guy into coming into work during his vacation. I really wish he hadn’t done it. I know if it had been me, I wouldn’t have—I probably would have been on a plane somewhere anyway.
Yeah, yeah. I ramble. Just one of the many reasons I quit that job.