Sonderzahlungsanspruch im Gastgewerbe

[Belinda]

http://members.aon.at/buchhaltung[url][/url]

Achtung bei Jobs im Gastgewerbe!

Was vielleicht viele von euch nicht wissen, ist, dass ein Anspruch auf anteilsmäßige (aliquote) Sonderzahlung erst bei Erfüllung einer 2monatigen Wartefrist besteht. Statt einen Monat und drei Wochen zu arbeiten, ist es daher - nach Möglichkeit - empfehlenswert, wenige Tage bis zur Erreichung der geforderten zwei Monate anzuhängen, und somit den Sonderzahlungsanspruch zu wahren.

Weiters ist anzuraten, kurz nach Beginn der Arbeit zu überprüfen, ob eine ordnungsgemäße Anmeldung bei der Gebietskrankenkasse erfolgte (Anruf bei der GKK genügt! Telefon-Nr. in Klagenfurt: 0463-5855).

Folgende Unterlagen müssen nach Beendigung des Dienstverhältnisses ausgehändigt werden:

-Endabrechnung (= Lohnabrechnung)
-Jahreslohnzettel inkl. Beitragsgrundlagennachweis (unterzeichnet vom Dienstgeber)
-Arbeitsbescheinigung (zur Vorlage beim AMS)

Solltet ihr im Laufe eurer Schulkarriere öfters in den Genuss kommen, in den Ferien zu arbeiten, lohnt es sich, nach bestandener Matura, beim AMS um Arbeitslosenunterstützung anzufragen. In vielen Fällen erreicht man allein durch diverse Jobs die notwendigen Arbeitszeiten, um wenigstens für kurze Zeit Unterstützung durch das Arbeitsmarktservice zu erhalten. Somit ist oftmals eine finanzielle Überbrückung bis zur ersten Fixanstellung gewährleistet.

MfG Belinda RAINER (Absolvent Jahrgang 1998)

[peter.czell]

Vielen Dank für die Tipps, Belinda!
Bleib uns treu hier im Forum!

[littleDreamer]

find i a voll super!!!!!!

[Mark Lukas]

jo voll

[Puxe]

Super Sache sehr Hilreich!

[forx123]

It is cold, so bitter cold, on this dark, winter day in 1942. But it is no different from any other day in this Nazi concentration camp. I stand shivering in my thin rags, still in disbelief that this nightmare is happening. I am just a young boy. I should be playing with friends; I should be going to school; I should be looking forward to a future, to growing up and marrying, and having a family of my own. But those dreams are for the living, and I am no longer one of them. Instead, I am almost dead, surviving from day to day, from hour to hour, ever since I was taken from my home and brought here with tens of thousands other Jews. Will I still be alive tomorrow? Will I be taken to the gas chamber tonight?
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Back and forth I walk next to the barbed wire fence, trying to keep my emaciated body warm. I am hungry, but I have been hungry for longer than I want to remember. I am always hungry. Edible food seems like a dream. Each day as more of us disappear, the happy past seems like a mere dream, and I sink deeper and deeper into despair. Suddenly, I notice a young girl walking past on the other side of the barbed wire. She stops and looks at me with sad eyes, eyes that seem to say that she understands, that she, too, cannot fathom why I am here. I want to look away, oddly ashamed for this stranger to see me like this, but I cannot tear my eyes from hers.
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Then she reaches into her pocket, and pulls out a red apple. A beautiful, shiny red apple. Oh, how long has it been since I have seen one! She looks cautiously to the left and to the right, and then with a smile of triumph, quickly throws the apple over the fence. I run to pick it up, holding it in my trembling, frozen fingers. In my world of death, this apple is an expression of life, of love. I glance up in time to see the girl disappearing into the distance.

The next day, I cannot help myself-I am drawn at the same time to that spot near the fence. Am I crazy for hoping she will come again? Of course. But in here, I cling to any tiny scrap of hope. She has given me hope and I must hold tightly to it.

And again, she comes. And again, she brings me an apple, flinging it over the fence with that same sweet smile.

This time I catch it, and hold it up for her to see. Her eyes twinkle. Does she pity me? Perhaps. I do not care, though. I am just so happy to gaze at her. And for the first time in so long, I feel my heart move with emotion.

For seven months, we meet like this. Sometimes we exchange a few words. Sometimes, just an apple. But she is feeding more than my belly, this angel from heaven. She is feeding my soul. And somehow, I know I am feeding hers as well.
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One day, I hear frightening news: we are being shipped to another camp. This could mean the end for me. And it definitely means the end for me and my friend. The next day when I greet her, my heart is breaking, and I can barely speak as I say what must be said: "Do not bring me an apple tomorrow," I tell her. "I am being sent to another camp. We will never see each other again." Turning before I lose all control, I run away from the fence. I cannot bear to look back. If I did, I know she would see me standing there, with tears streaming down my face.

Months pass and the nightmare continues. But the memory of this girl sustains me through the terror, the pain, the hopelessness. Over and over in my mind, I see her face, her kind eyes, I hear her gentle words, I taste those apples.

And then one day, just like that, the nightmare is over. The war has ended. Those of us who are still alive are freed. I have lost everything that was precious to me, including my family. But I still have the memory of this girl, a memory I carry in my heart and gives me the will to go on as I move to America to start a new life. Years pass. It is 1957. I am living in New York City. A friend convinces me to go on a blind date with a lady friend of his. Reluctantly, I agree. But she is nice, this woman named Roma. And like me, she is an immigrant, so we have at least that in common.
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"Where were you during the war?" Roma asks me gently, in that delicate way immigrants ask one another questions about those years.

"I was in a concentration camp in Germany," I reply.

Roma gets a far away look in her eyes, as if she is remembering something painful yet sweet.

"What is it?" I ask.

"I am just thinking about something from my past, Herman," Roma explains in a voice suddenly very soft. "You see, when I was a young girl, I lived near a concentration camp. There was a boy there, a prisoner, and for a long while, I used to visit him every day. I remember I used to bring him apples. I would throw the apple over the fence, and he would be so happy."

Roma sighs heavily and continues. "It is hard to describe how we felt about each other-after all, we were young, and we only exchanged a few words when we could-but I can tell you, there was much love there. I assume he was killed like so many others. But I cannot bear to think that, and so I try to remember him as he was for those months we were given together."
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With my heart pounding so loudly I think it wil1 explode, I look directly at Roma and ask, "And did that boy say to you one day, 'Do not bring me an apple tomorrow. I am being sent to another camp'?"

"Why, yes," Roma responds, her voice trembling.

"But, Herman, how on earth could you possibly know that?"

I take her hands in mine and answer, "Because I was that young boy, Roma."

For many moments, there is only silence. We cannot take our eyes from each other, and as the veils of time lift, we recognize the soul behind the eyes, the dear friend we once loved so much, whom we have never stopped loving, whom we have never stopped remembering.

Finally, I speak: "Look, Roma, I was separated from you once, and I don't ever want to be separated from you again. Now, I am free, and I want to be together with you forever. Dear, will you marry me?"


I see that same twinkle in her eye that I used to see as Roma says, "Yes, I will marry you," and we embrace, the embrace we longed to share for so many months, but barbed wire came between us. Now, nothing ever will again.

Almost forty years have passed since that day when I found my Roma again. Destiny brought us together the first time during the war to show me a promise of hope and now it had reunited us to fulfill that promise.

Valentine's Day, 1996. I bring Roma to the Oprah Winfrey Show to honor her on national television. I want to tell her in front of millions of people what I feel in my heart every day:

"Darling, you fed me in the concentration camp when I was hungry. And I am still hungry, for something I will never get enough of: I am only hungry for your love."

[daifan1r]

The Selfish Giant

Every afternoon, as the children were coming back from school, they used to go and play in the giant's garden.

It was a beautiful large garden. Beautiful flowers grew in the grass. There were twelve fruit trees. In the spring the fruit trees were covered with red and white flowers, and later in the year they bore rich fruit. The birds sang in the trees so sweetly that sometimes the children stopped their games and listened to them. "How happy we are here!" they cried to each other.
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One day the giant came back. He had been away for seven years. When he arrived, he saw the children playing in his garden. "What are you doing here?" he cried in a very loud voice. The children ran away.

"My own garden is my own garden," said the giant. "I will allow no one to play in it but myself. "So he built a high wall round it and put up a notice: Keep out. He was a very selfish giant.
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So the children had nowhere to play. They tried to play on the road, but the road was dusty and full of hard stone, and they did not like it. They wandered round the high walls when their lessons were finished and talked about the beautiful garden inside. "How happy we were there!" they said to each other.

The spring came, and there were flowers and little birds all over the country. But in the garden of the Selfish Giant it was till winter the birds did not like to sing in it because there were no children, and the trees forgot to bear flowers. Snow covered up the grass, and ice covered all the trees with silver. The north wind came, and driving rain.
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"I can't understand why the spring is so late in coming," said the Selfish Giant as he sat at the window of his house and looked out at his cold white garden. "I hope that there will be a change in the weather."

But the spring never came, nor the summer. When there was golden fruit in every other garden, there was no fruit in the the giant's garden. It was always winter there with the north wind, and snow, and ice, and driving rain.

The giant was lying in bed one morning when he heard some beautiful music. It was a little bird singing outside his window. It was so long since he had heard the song of a bird that it seemed to him the most beautiful music in the world. Then the north wind and the rain stopped.
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"I believe that spring has come at last!" said the giant. He jumped out of bed and looked out.

What did he see?

He saw a most wonderful sight. The children had come in though a hole in the wall and were sitting in the branches of the trees. There was a little child in every tree that he could see. The trees were so glad to have the children back that they had covered themselves with flowers: the birds were flying about and singing with joy, and flowers were looking up through the green grass.

A little boy was standing in the farthest corner of the garden. He was so small that he could not reach up to the branches of the tree, but was wandering round it and weeping. That tree was still covered with ice and snow.replica watches,

"How selfish I have been!" said the giant. "Now I know why the spring would not come here. I'll put the little boy on the top of the tree. Then I'll pull down the wall and my garden shall be a children's playground for ever." He was really sorry for what he had done.

So he went down: he opened the door very quietly, and went out into the garden. But, when the children saw him, they were afraid and ran away. Only the little boy did not run: his eyes were so full of tears that he did not see the giant coming. The giant came quietly behind him. He took the little boy gently in his hand and put him up into the tree. Then the tree was suddenly covered with flowers, and the birds came
The Selfish Giant
and sang in it, and the little boy put his arms round the giant's neck and kissed him.

"You must tell him to come tomorrow, he must come tomorrow." "We don't know where he lives. We had never seen him before." The giant felt very sad.
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Every afternoon when school ended, the children came and played with the giant. But the little boy whom the giant loved was never seen again. The giant was very kind to all the children, but he did want to see his first little friend. "How much I would like to see him!" he said.

The Selfish Giant