shit or get off the pot - a charming essay
You’ve seen someone let go of an untied, blown-up balloon and, as all the air escapes, the balloon flies wildly around the room? That is what I feel like. Some a-hole let loose of my life and, as all the joy escapes, I make unflattering noises and shoot uncontrollably around the confines of my existence.
Yes. I have a flair for the dramatic.
It is unusual for me to not find the humor in even my darkest moments. I wouldn’t say I am exactly humorless right now, but to be honest, this shit ain’t funny. In a rare moment of true openness, or self-pity, I am going to run down the not so funny, true story of my current situation.
I am consumed with the fact that I was fired from my job. My belief is that I was fired in retaliation for complaining about gender issues in my office. And I didn’t really even complain; I made suggestions for improvement. (That sounds a little Jerry Maguire-ish – it was only a mission statement.) Unfortunately for me, the people to whom I made the suggestions were threatened and have such large egos that they couldn’t take my constructive criticism.
To seek legal advice or to not seek legal advice, that is the question. I can’t stand feeling like the chauvinists who fired me won. I am not generally an activist, and I am only a feminist in that I think women should be treated with the same respect as men. There should not be one set of rules for men and another for women. I also know that all gender issues aren’t black and white, and I am not a litigious person.
The thing that sucks the most, besides some increasingly worrisome and inevitable cash flow issues, is that I have really good friends still in that office. Anything I do in regards to pursuing this situation will inevitably hurt them. It could also hurt me to pursue legal action. It is hard to let go of your anger if you are up to your eyeballs in it, and they could drag me through the mud. Not a pleasant thought.
But if I don’t do something these people go unchecked and will not change. Is it my responsibility to make them change? Not really. But if you see a wrong and don’t do something about it, you are a little wrong too. Also, I am a little competitive, and it kills me to think that they got the better of me.
I am getting reports that the office has entered the deeper recesses of the twilight zone. Recently a coworker was grilled for leaving an hour early when she had a headache, like she embezzled large amounts of money. “I heard you left early yesterday. What kind of headache did you have? What caused it? What did you take for it?” No shit. What is rich is that the supervisor who was grilling her had to “hear” that she left early because he wasn’t even there. Isn’t there a saying about the pot calling the kettle black? The Executive Director angrily made the paranoid comment that he ”knows what is being said around there” to another coworker. There is rampant speculation that the place is bugged and that employee's e-mails are being read. What a happy environment.
Yes. I have a flair for the dramatic.
It is unusual for me to not find the humor in even my darkest moments. I wouldn’t say I am exactly humorless right now, but to be honest, this shit ain’t funny. In a rare moment of true openness, or self-pity, I am going to run down the not so funny, true story of my current situation.
I am consumed with the fact that I was fired from my job. My belief is that I was fired in retaliation for complaining about gender issues in my office. And I didn’t really even complain; I made suggestions for improvement. (That sounds a little Jerry Maguire-ish – it was only a mission statement.) Unfortunately for me, the people to whom I made the suggestions were threatened and have such large egos that they couldn’t take my constructive criticism.
To seek legal advice or to not seek legal advice, that is the question. I can’t stand feeling like the chauvinists who fired me won. I am not generally an activist, and I am only a feminist in that I think women should be treated with the same respect as men. There should not be one set of rules for men and another for women. I also know that all gender issues aren’t black and white, and I am not a litigious person.
The thing that sucks the most, besides some increasingly worrisome and inevitable cash flow issues, is that I have really good friends still in that office. Anything I do in regards to pursuing this situation will inevitably hurt them. It could also hurt me to pursue legal action. It is hard to let go of your anger if you are up to your eyeballs in it, and they could drag me through the mud. Not a pleasant thought.
But if I don’t do something these people go unchecked and will not change. Is it my responsibility to make them change? Not really. But if you see a wrong and don’t do something about it, you are a little wrong too. Also, I am a little competitive, and it kills me to think that they got the better of me.
I am getting reports that the office has entered the deeper recesses of the twilight zone. Recently a coworker was grilled for leaving an hour early when she had a headache, like she embezzled large amounts of money. “I heard you left early yesterday. What kind of headache did you have? What caused it? What did you take for it?” No shit. What is rich is that the supervisor who was grilling her had to “hear” that she left early because he wasn’t even there. Isn’t there a saying about the pot calling the kettle black? The Executive Director angrily made the paranoid comment that he ”knows what is being said around there” to another coworker. There is rampant speculation that the place is bugged and that employee's e-mails are being read. What a happy environment.
Do I move on and forget about it, or do I tackle it head on? I have sat around pondering this for almost a month. It is time to shit or get off the -- well, you know the saying. (At least you do if you are from any where near the south.)
P.S. Gloria Allred - if you read this, give me a call.
posted by Anonymous at 1:58 PM
2 Comments:
I got fired once, and actually on false pretenses too, if you can believe that.
I was a dishwasher with my brother for a local restaurant. I don't think that I technically ever worked for them, as they always paid me in cash, no taxes. They also used to do such fun things as hire 13 year olds and have "sub-standard" cleaning procedures.
Anyway, I go and pick up my cash one day, and the boss tells me simply, "You aren't on the schedule any more."
I ask Fathead (really, his head was huge) why, and he tells me, " When we needed silverware the night after you got done, and a bunch was missing, so when I checked the trash, there was a bunch in there. You're costing me money."
Thing about it was, I wasn't near the trash the entire time. My job was to wash the shit, not put it away. My brother was the one throwin shit in the trash, and he was new so he did his job right.
Now let's say that I did throw a bunch of shit away. After I was done with my job, we take this liquid trash out to the compactor and throw it away. So this fat fucker who doesn't really do anything would have had to climb his fat ass in this compactor full of rotten shit to look for silverware. My ass.
Fuck that place. Fuck that place hard.
later on I found out that this dickhead bartender (who , by the way, lives with his parents at 45) didn't like my attitude, or was pissed that when he hit on me I didn't like it or something, so he told the boss this whole story about the silverware and stuff.
Now I could have anonymously tipped the BBB or whatever, and there is no way that place would pass an non-paid off inspection, but I didn't. I was 16 when this happened, and every time I think about it, it still makes me mad.
But I'm angry like that.
You could always talk to a lawyer and see your options.
I think it is healthy you are so in touch with your anger, Jameson. Just stay away from firearms, okay?
You encapsulated my feelings exactly with "fuck them hard." Thank you. I had been searching for the exact words to properly express my thoughts!
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