When I signed up for this full–time gig at work I was made to sign an ‘interim contract’, a little piece of paper that officially recognizes that my usual roster will be changing drastically for the two weeks noted… and those two weeks only. This neatly sidesteps their usual method of roster–changing which, in these circumstances, could drastically backfire should I refuse to switch back after this two–week stint is over.
My manager, wonderful as she is, filled out my interim contract at a higher rate of pay than I am normally given. Hell, she basically filled it out at casual rates. I was a little surprised and a little excited, but who looks a gift horse in the mouth anyways? I signed on the dotted line without question. Now, just a week later, my paycheck comes in $100 lighter than expected. I scratch my head for a moment and think “didn’t that contract say I’d get $530? Why in the hell am I getting $430?” (don’t laugh, shitty work pays shitty wages) and then it clicks: a contract is a contract… legally binding.
I shall be having words with the cash–office ladies some time tomorrow, and look forward to that extra $100 padding my next paycheck. Hey, a hundred bucks is a hundred bucks, and I don’t plan to take any moral high ground against a bastard corporation like Woolworths Limited. I might even splash out on something… like a reduced credit card debt! Hooray!