Yesterday, I got fired for the first time in my life.

Over email, without explanation, immediately after sticking up for myself for being mistreated by my manager who thinks she is totally amazing and important and awesome (but probably has the worst managing skills I’ve ever encountered).

I am imagining the things I could do to get back at her, like putting Vaseline on her door handles or breaking into her house and putting a piece of chewed gum on her pillow.  I will try to control myself to protect my integrity.  But don’t get me wrong–I am tempted!  My hope is that writing on my blog will keep my hands from wandering into the Vaseline jar.

The job was one of the easiest jobs I’ve ever had, except for having to put up with her every day.  But I couldn’t complain; passing out snack bars for a ridiculously excellent wage is a job anyone would appreciate, right?  I’ve spent every Friday and Saturday evening of the summer doing this job, with a smile on my face, in sweltering heat and sun, answering all-important questions such as, “How many calories does it have?” and “Is this the full-size bar?” and most importantly, “Is this Swedish?”  All of these challenges and more–under the manager’s watchful eye, waiting for me to give her a reason to exercise her very powerful power to fire me.

Thank goodness she was watching me so closely, because we all know that passing out snack bars is a very serious business and that I couldn’t possibly accomplish the task properly without the close monitoring that she provided.  If only I’d known–I should have signed up for more courses on the proper passing-out of snack bars in college.

The funny thing is that in the field of “marketing and promotions”, which is what that field is called, most jobs are short term and you can work many different jobs all the time.  Each time, you are hired by a different company.  Each time, you have a different manager–and sometimes you are the manager.  (I have never managed and I probably never will). The power trip of being the manager doesn’t last long, and the people you mistreat when you are on a power trip may very well be your manager on the next job.

I do these jobs from time to time, thanks to my truly lovely sister who hooks me up with them.  She has worked in the field for 11 years, and she is good at it.  She is a wonderful manager and I love to work with her.  She trusts that the people she works with are competent and well-intentioned and doesn’t correct or fire them unless a blatant and serious problem arises.  She is smart and friendly and has a good energy, and people like to get snack bars from her.

So for the record, here is what happened, without mentioning names or specifics that could further wound the already damaged reputation of “the manager”.

I had been feeling very sick for the last 24 hours–not a virus, but a bad headache cramps and things like that.  Hours before my shift would start, I began to worry that I may have to call in sick.  I sent a quick email to Manager and Sister (whom I was working this job with) to let them know that I had not been well and was unsure whether I’d be better in time for the shift.  I told them I’d keep them posted on the situation.

Manager called immediately but I missed the call.  I called back after a while, and at this point I had started to feel dramatically better.  I told her I would be fine after all and would be at work in a few hours.

What do you think she said to that?

“Glad you’re feeling better!” or “Good to hear!” ?  NO.  Wrong!

Instead (in a cold and condescending and partially psychotic tone), the response went something like this:

“Oh my God, are you serious? Because you cannot ruin this promotion for me.  If you come to work pasty white and looking all sick, [Big name company on 169 and General Mills Blvd.] might see you and I could lose this job.  This account with [Big name company that has 28,000 employees] is so important to me! I can’t have anyone ruin this! I can’t have anyone flaking out and making me look bad!”

(for the record, Manager came to work a couple of times very sick with a lung infection, pasty white and sweating profusely.)

At this point I was rather humored by her outrageous and psychotic response to my announcement that I was feeling better and would make it to work.

After we hung up, I got mad.  Since this was the 14,000th offense from her in the last two months, (and I’d tried so hard to bite my tongue the other 13,999 times), I was fed up.  Out of haste and anger and not caring about the consequences, I wrote her an email and said that I was insulted by her remarks; I said I thought she’d be concerned for my well-being more than how I might make her look in some contorted, Big Brother scenario where all 56,000 eyes from [Big name company] are watching her at all times.

She replied with “Calling in sick over email is inappropriate”.

Then I got really mad, and I knew that I was throwing the job out the window with this response, but I didn’t care at that point.  So I said something like “I WAS NOT CALLING IN SICK, [name of manager that you should never name your daughters]! I was trying to be COURTEOUS! I was communicating with you like a human being!”

So she fired me.

And without further ado,  I called and emailed her boss, who works permanently for [Big and very important company] and told him what happened–since I am sure whatever she will tell him will be an interesting and contorted version of the truth.  I also told him about Manager’s psychotic episode earlier in the season that made all of us, and especially [big name company] look embarrassingly stupid, how she can’t make a good decision to save her life, and how she is a terrible manager who makes irrational decisions out of anger and haste in order to hurt others and get higher on her high horse.  Not in those words, of course.

But the best part of all of this is this: for the rest of the summer, I am free on Friday and Saturday nights.

What’s not to love about that?

Advertisement