the firing line
Jul. 1st, 2003 03:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thejunipertreeOkay, I've been questioned by a number of you as to why I was recently given the old heave ho from that seventh level of Hell I referred to as my job. I've answered everybody who's asked, but I'm growing a bit weary of typing out the same response over and over again. Therefore, I've decided to write out the whole thing here. And if anyone asks me in the future, they will be given a link to this entry.
Yes, I'm incredibly lazy. ;)
I'll start at the basic beginning of this
A couple of weeks ago, I'm not exactly sure when, I had gone into work as normal. In the morning, I received email from Miss Beth, my mother, and Thee Pumpkin Girl. Miss Beth wanted to know how I was doing and the followup email to her was very short. My mother's office line isn't reliable, so she emails me whenever something comes up that she needs to bring to my attention (my supervisor was aware of this and alledgely didn't have a problem with it). TPG wanted to know about our upcoming trip to NYC and the emails to her were also very short and did not continue for a long period of time. Normal day, normal amount of work. I breeze through work like you wouldn't believe. The workload is so empty headed that I could do it whilst sleeping.
My break comes and I email back and forth with Miss Carrie. Lunch breaks are free time and therefore, we are allowed to do as we please with our computer stations. My break ends after an hour and a couple of straggling emails are sent afterwards, but only a bare handful. I tell Carrie that work is starting to get hectic, we agree to talk later.
Now, throughout the day I have also been taking notes in Microsoft Word about a new project I have been given. Rather, an entirely new position. I had two files saved in my computer regarding this and I've been typing in the second one for the greater part of the day, notes as I come across whatever situation I feel the need to take note of.
Around 2:30 pm, I receive an email from my supervisor (who sits five feet away from me) saying "if you're emailing as much as I think you are, then you obviously don't have enough work to do." *snort* Yeah, okay.
I emailed her back, telling her that I wasn't emailing as much as she thought. That yes, I HAD sent a few personal emails but I have been largely typing up notes on the collateral project. She doesn't respond.
An hour later, I am working on something that doesn't involve my computer station. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch movement on the screen. Looking up, I see the cursor moving around by itself. Minimising the loan tracking system we use, opening my email program, going into deleted items, then recovering deleted items (which is an admin function only). This can only mean one thing.
My supervisor thought I was lying and went to the IT department so they could access my computer. Well, fine and screw you. Access it all you want. I didn't lie. I said exactly what I had been doing. And if you don't like it, you are cordially invited to smoke my pole. I hate this fucking job, anyway. On my smoke break, I discuss this with the only co-worker in my department I can relate to, we'll call her D, who also thinks that the company can smoke my pole.
Nothing is said to me that day, or the day after. Or even after that.
I take my two vacation days and head to NYC, coming back to work on the Friday which just passed. Nothing is amiss. We're scheduled for a meeting early that morning, with all of us crowding into a little unused office for an hour and a half.
During the meeting, we are told numerous things that we already know. When the smoke breaks are, where we are to take them (yes, there had been a problem with other departments fucking this up, but we weren't a part of that), what is going to be happening over the next couple of weeks, internet useage, and email useage. We are told that the company realises there will be personal use of the internet/email, but it is not to be excessive. And if we have any questions as to what excessive means, then we are to ask after the meeting.
Excessive? I know what excessive means. I've been pulled into the Tara-You're-A-Bad-Employee meeting before and explained what excessive means. It means using email/internet to the point where your work isn't getting done. It means sitting around all day doing nothing but yacking with your friends online. My work is always done, sometimes with time to spare when there's a lighter workload or I've been exceptionally manic. And as my friends also have lives and jobs, I don't talk smack with them all the live long day. In conclusion, whatever. I go back to my desk, the day goes as normal.
Around 3:30-3:45 pm, things are getting a little hectic. Fridays are our short day, we leave at 4 pm. And D has already said she couldn't stay late because of some personal issues involving her daughter's father (who is a nutcase). Because we had the long ass meeting and because I took a half hour lunch (instead of working through it), we're zooming in on the zero hour and I'm busting my ass to make sure D can leave at 4pm. If need be, I decide I'll stay a little later to finish anything up. As it stands we're not doing /terribly/ bad, so it would probably only be 15 extra minutes or so. (**editor's note: in our department, we have to finish ALL of our work in a single work day because of the nature of it. It all needs to be completed and sent to our investors. eh.**)
The new HR lady comes up to my desk and asks if she can see me. I ask her if I can have a minute because I'm trying to get something done. She tells me that's fine and walks away.
I finish the little bit of folder stuffing I was working on (though now I'm inwardly pissing and moaning because I'll have to stay even later to finish everything because they're calling me into a meeting. I assume it's about something which I'll explain after all of this.)
I go into her office to find my supervisor sitting there, not looking at me. HR lady come in and sits down, hands me a piece of paper. It says that because of excessive absences (noting specifically the days I was out with bronchitis in the beginning of June, something which I had a doctor's note for) and because of excessive email use (noting that I had been spoken to about this before and they felt it had grown progressively worse, whereas I believe it had gotten much better since there were many days when I didn't even OPEN my email program), my employment with their company was being terminated.
Eh.
To tell you the truth, I can't even bring myself to care at this point. I'd been so pissed off about stupid shit going on in the office that they could have beat the crap out of me and I wouldn't have cared, just as long as it meant I didn't have to work there anymore.
I'm asked if I have any questions.
No. Can I go now?
Are you sure you don't have any questions?
Yes. Are you finished? Can I go now?
Well, if you have any questions, here's my business
card and you can--
I know your extention. And I won't be calling. Because
I don't have any questions.
Do you have anything you wish to say or to add?
Which I do (as always, can't resist a chance to shoot off my mouth, now can I?).
I start telling them that the reason why I've been sick is because of an undiagnosed Staph infection which I've had for a year and which was only diagnosed this month.
Something, I said, that my supervisor was made well aware of. I also wanted to know how many days out I had, total.
She tells me 25. TWENTY-FIVE?!
Mighty fuck? What are you on about, woman?!
HR lady launches into a big speech about the company is aware of my situation with my mother and that they don't hold it against me the times I've had to leave early because of her. So, where does the 25 days come into it?
They added everything together. (1.)
Anything else to say?
Why yes!
I make mention of the fact that every single person in our department, including our supervisor, uses the email/internet for personal use. There's only four of us, mind you. ALL four of us do it. Some of us (like the person I'm going to rant about in a minute) are just sneakier then others and purposely types quietly so no one can hear what they're doing.
This is when my supervisor starts to get huffy with me. "If you think I don't know what's going on in my own department..."
That's exactly what I think. Can I go now?
This is when I'm told that I can go to my desk and get my things, but I had better not MAKE A SCENE or I'll be escorted from the building by the police. This gets a smirk from me.
Now, I've never really been out and out fired from a job before. Is that standard procedure? Or were they really just afraid I was going to turn all Norma Rae on them and start shouting to my oppressed co-worker brethern?
heh. Can't say that the idea didn't cross my mind of doing an Irish Jig out the door while singing "When the saints go marching in", though.
So, I'm packing up my desk (God, I have a lot of shit) with the HR lady standing over me. Everyone who walks past gawks at what's going on, but I ignore them. My friend, D, comes back to her desk and pretends nothing is going on around her. After I lay my hands on my Rolodex, the HR lady pipes up, "Is that YOURS?"
Yes. Yes, it is. And in the box it goes. No further questions will be brooked on this matter. It's my fucking Rolodex. I compiled all the phone numbers in it and you'll pry it out of my cold, dead fingers.
After everything is packed up, I scribble my home email address and phone number on a Post-It note for D. When I try to hand this to her, the HR lady is all up in my shit. I roll my eyes and show her what it says and am allowed to hand it to D.
Christ! What did they think I was writing? D, now is the time for our plan! Go get the smoke bomb from the toliet tank in the ladies room! Viva la revolution! Bah! Idiots.
HR lady helps me carry my two boxes out to the car and I leave.
Voila! I have no job! Yay!
(wow, this is getting really long.)
Okay, now's the part of the show where I explain what happened the other week with my other co-worker. Briefly, now that I think about it. I'm tired of typing. ^_^
One of my co-workers, as some of you know, is a fundie Christian. She's the kind of lady who travels all the way to North Jersey for church, because that's where she used to live. She's around 40 years old, never been married, and lives with her mother. She's the epitome of the stereotype that you see in movies of the little black lady in church with a fan who jumps up and praises Jeebus. Can I get a witness?! WITNESS!
That kind of person. We'll call her W.
We've never really had an out and out problem before (though you may remember the problem I had with our other Christian lady who worked there, but only lasted three weeks). Sometimes, she got moody and wouldn't talk to anybody. And sometimes, she'd throw a snarky comment at me. But, I brushed it off and chalked it all up to the fact that we're all basically sitting on top of each other and it was nothing personal.
On this morning, she and D got into a little skirmish when I was away from my desk involving the receptionist (who is an older version of this lady, we'll call her R). R is kind of flakey and no one knows how she still holds a job in this place. She's constantly screwing up. Personally, I think she saved the owner's puppy from a burning building. But, that's just me.
R signs in the mail that the entire building gets. Part of her job is to sort it out to whoever it properly goes to. She's not very good at this and our department seems to be the one where she dumps everything. We've told her numerous times that if someone's name is on the package and they are not in our department, we don't get it. It just doesn't sink in.
And on this morning, she sent four or five closing packages to us with a closer's name very predominently on the package. I take them down to the closer while D calls R and tells her she did it again. While I'm away, D hangs up the phone and just says "argh! when will she get the hang of this?" W turns and says "R's a good Christian woman and so am I. So I ain't got nothing to say about her."
Long story short, W and D squabble about this for a couple of seconds. But, it blows over. I come back to my desk none the wiser. A few hours later, D sends me a goofy email forward about why women cry (and it is fucking goofy. What it amounts to is that God gave the women tears to express their hard work and sorrow at being wives and mothers). I laugh and say "This is stupid!" D insists it's cute and we both laugh because of our differing opinions. Just as I'm about to explain that I think it's stupid because not all women are wives and mothers, W jumps in with "It's not stupid if you BELIEVE."
huh? What's that got to do with anything?
She gets mad when I ask her this and asks if she was talking to me.
Well. Actually, you were. I said something. You replied in direct connection and referencing something I said. Then I replied to you.
She gets even more mad when I get fed up and ask what her problem with me today is (there had been lots of little pointed comments directed at me all day and I was tired of it).
Our argument is going nowhere fast, so I said, "You know what? I am fucking SICK of getting attitude thrown at me when I haven't done a GODDAMN thing."
D walks away from her desk to do something, I turn back to what I'm doing at my desk. Then I hear W pick up her phone and ask for HR's extention. Then I hear her call HR and ask to speak to them about something personal.
Oh please.
In response, I email our supervisor and ask to see her privately.
Yes, I'm a bitch. ^_^
After meeting with my supervisor (who was not around when this happened, she's never there when W gets twitchy), it's decided that a meeting with W and her needs to happen. Okay. I'll be spoken to again later about it. However while I was gone, another skirmish happened between D and W. So now D wants a supervisor meeting, too.
The supervisor meets with W. When W leaves, D goes in. I'm sitting at the typewriter next to W's desk, typing out an allonge. W turns to me and says, "If I said anything to you, I apologise. But, there are some things I just don't go for."
huh?
She repeats herself, word for word.
No, W. What do you MEAN?
Again, repeats herself word for word.
No. I'm asking you for clarification. What don't you "just go for"?
Well if it ever comes up again, I'll tell you.
*head explodey*
I'm never brought back into the office for a followup meeting, though from conversation with D I learn that W feels we don't like her and OBVIOUSLY talk smack on her because we talk smack on another girl who doesn't work there anymore. She feels it's because of her religion.
Sweet suffering fuck. I've never heard anything so ridiculous in my entire life. But, I let it blow over in the interest of a quiet work environment.
Retarded.
Now you can read my foot note from earlier and I'm going to go and make some more tea.
(1.) Now for those of you playing along at home, who may be of the ahhh...slower intelligence, let me point something out: We're only given six sick days a year. My employment started in 2002, that's six right there. Which I probably took as I was paid for every day I wasn't there. In 2003, I was paid for all of them but had been expecting that last bit with the bronchitis to not be fully paid for. At the most, that's 12 sick days taken total. Now add the times I've had to leave because of illness? Hmm. I can honestly only remember 2 or 3 times I've asked to leave early. But, I'll be generous and mindful of my absentmindedness and we'll say 4 times.
That still only equals 16. 9 days under 25.
I can only assume that either they've also added in any vacation time I've taken or any personal days or floating holidays which I had (all of which are given to us by the company). However, my first floating holiday was taken by the blizzard when there was a state emergency (if you didn't have time accrued or a personal day, you were shit out of luck for being paid for a day you couldn't come in because you weren't allowed to drive on the road as decreed by the state of New Jersey). My single personal day was used to take my mother for tests. And I had scheduled my second floating holiday for July 7th, that hadn't even been taken yet.
Okay. 16. Add the snow day. 17. Add the tests for my mother day. 18.
Hmm. Still not 25.
Of course, I think of all of this AFTER I come home and the initial BLARGH! has worn off. Now I reckon is the time that I would be using that business card, eh? Nope. I don't even care.
What is the sense of arguing? There isn't any. I hated the job. They fired me. I have some money in the bank to last me a couple of months for rent and bills. And I can get unemployment after six weeks.
Yes, I'm incredibly lazy. ;)
I'll start at the basic beginning of this
A couple of weeks ago, I'm not exactly sure when, I had gone into work as normal. In the morning, I received email from Miss Beth, my mother, and Thee Pumpkin Girl. Miss Beth wanted to know how I was doing and the followup email to her was very short. My mother's office line isn't reliable, so she emails me whenever something comes up that she needs to bring to my attention (my supervisor was aware of this and alledgely didn't have a problem with it). TPG wanted to know about our upcoming trip to NYC and the emails to her were also very short and did not continue for a long period of time. Normal day, normal amount of work. I breeze through work like you wouldn't believe. The workload is so empty headed that I could do it whilst sleeping.
My break comes and I email back and forth with Miss Carrie. Lunch breaks are free time and therefore, we are allowed to do as we please with our computer stations. My break ends after an hour and a couple of straggling emails are sent afterwards, but only a bare handful. I tell Carrie that work is starting to get hectic, we agree to talk later.
Now, throughout the day I have also been taking notes in Microsoft Word about a new project I have been given. Rather, an entirely new position. I had two files saved in my computer regarding this and I've been typing in the second one for the greater part of the day, notes as I come across whatever situation I feel the need to take note of.
Around 2:30 pm, I receive an email from my supervisor (who sits five feet away from me) saying "if you're emailing as much as I think you are, then you obviously don't have enough work to do." *snort* Yeah, okay.
I emailed her back, telling her that I wasn't emailing as much as she thought. That yes, I HAD sent a few personal emails but I have been largely typing up notes on the collateral project. She doesn't respond.
An hour later, I am working on something that doesn't involve my computer station. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch movement on the screen. Looking up, I see the cursor moving around by itself. Minimising the loan tracking system we use, opening my email program, going into deleted items, then recovering deleted items (which is an admin function only). This can only mean one thing.
My supervisor thought I was lying and went to the IT department so they could access my computer. Well, fine and screw you. Access it all you want. I didn't lie. I said exactly what I had been doing. And if you don't like it, you are cordially invited to smoke my pole. I hate this fucking job, anyway. On my smoke break, I discuss this with the only co-worker in my department I can relate to, we'll call her D, who also thinks that the company can smoke my pole.
Nothing is said to me that day, or the day after. Or even after that.
I take my two vacation days and head to NYC, coming back to work on the Friday which just passed. Nothing is amiss. We're scheduled for a meeting early that morning, with all of us crowding into a little unused office for an hour and a half.
During the meeting, we are told numerous things that we already know. When the smoke breaks are, where we are to take them (yes, there had been a problem with other departments fucking this up, but we weren't a part of that), what is going to be happening over the next couple of weeks, internet useage, and email useage. We are told that the company realises there will be personal use of the internet/email, but it is not to be excessive. And if we have any questions as to what excessive means, then we are to ask after the meeting.
Excessive? I know what excessive means. I've been pulled into the Tara-You're-A-Bad-Employee meeting before and explained what excessive means. It means using email/internet to the point where your work isn't getting done. It means sitting around all day doing nothing but yacking with your friends online. My work is always done, sometimes with time to spare when there's a lighter workload or I've been exceptionally manic. And as my friends also have lives and jobs, I don't talk smack with them all the live long day. In conclusion, whatever. I go back to my desk, the day goes as normal.
Around 3:30-3:45 pm, things are getting a little hectic. Fridays are our short day, we leave at 4 pm. And D has already said she couldn't stay late because of some personal issues involving her daughter's father (who is a nutcase). Because we had the long ass meeting and because I took a half hour lunch (instead of working through it), we're zooming in on the zero hour and I'm busting my ass to make sure D can leave at 4pm. If need be, I decide I'll stay a little later to finish anything up. As it stands we're not doing /terribly/ bad, so it would probably only be 15 extra minutes or so. (**editor's note: in our department, we have to finish ALL of our work in a single work day because of the nature of it. It all needs to be completed and sent to our investors. eh.**)
The new HR lady comes up to my desk and asks if she can see me. I ask her if I can have a minute because I'm trying to get something done. She tells me that's fine and walks away.
I finish the little bit of folder stuffing I was working on (though now I'm inwardly pissing and moaning because I'll have to stay even later to finish everything because they're calling me into a meeting. I assume it's about something which I'll explain after all of this.)
I go into her office to find my supervisor sitting there, not looking at me. HR lady come in and sits down, hands me a piece of paper. It says that because of excessive absences (noting specifically the days I was out with bronchitis in the beginning of June, something which I had a doctor's note for) and because of excessive email use (noting that I had been spoken to about this before and they felt it had grown progressively worse, whereas I believe it had gotten much better since there were many days when I didn't even OPEN my email program), my employment with their company was being terminated.
Eh.
To tell you the truth, I can't even bring myself to care at this point. I'd been so pissed off about stupid shit going on in the office that they could have beat the crap out of me and I wouldn't have cared, just as long as it meant I didn't have to work there anymore.
I'm asked if I have any questions.
No. Can I go now?
Are you sure you don't have any questions?
Yes. Are you finished? Can I go now?
Well, if you have any questions, here's my business
card and you can--
I know your extention. And I won't be calling. Because
I don't have any questions.
Do you have anything you wish to say or to add?
Which I do (as always, can't resist a chance to shoot off my mouth, now can I?).
I start telling them that the reason why I've been sick is because of an undiagnosed Staph infection which I've had for a year and which was only diagnosed this month.
Something, I said, that my supervisor was made well aware of. I also wanted to know how many days out I had, total.
She tells me 25. TWENTY-FIVE?!
Mighty fuck? What are you on about, woman?!
HR lady launches into a big speech about the company is aware of my situation with my mother and that they don't hold it against me the times I've had to leave early because of her. So, where does the 25 days come into it?
They added everything together. (1.)
Anything else to say?
Why yes!
I make mention of the fact that every single person in our department, including our supervisor, uses the email/internet for personal use. There's only four of us, mind you. ALL four of us do it. Some of us (like the person I'm going to rant about in a minute) are just sneakier then others and purposely types quietly so no one can hear what they're doing.
This is when my supervisor starts to get huffy with me. "If you think I don't know what's going on in my own department..."
That's exactly what I think. Can I go now?
This is when I'm told that I can go to my desk and get my things, but I had better not MAKE A SCENE or I'll be escorted from the building by the police. This gets a smirk from me.
Now, I've never really been out and out fired from a job before. Is that standard procedure? Or were they really just afraid I was going to turn all Norma Rae on them and start shouting to my oppressed co-worker brethern?
heh. Can't say that the idea didn't cross my mind of doing an Irish Jig out the door while singing "When the saints go marching in", though.
So, I'm packing up my desk (God, I have a lot of shit) with the HR lady standing over me. Everyone who walks past gawks at what's going on, but I ignore them. My friend, D, comes back to her desk and pretends nothing is going on around her. After I lay my hands on my Rolodex, the HR lady pipes up, "Is that YOURS?"
Yes. Yes, it is. And in the box it goes. No further questions will be brooked on this matter. It's my fucking Rolodex. I compiled all the phone numbers in it and you'll pry it out of my cold, dead fingers.
After everything is packed up, I scribble my home email address and phone number on a Post-It note for D. When I try to hand this to her, the HR lady is all up in my shit. I roll my eyes and show her what it says and am allowed to hand it to D.
Christ! What did they think I was writing? D, now is the time for our plan! Go get the smoke bomb from the toliet tank in the ladies room! Viva la revolution! Bah! Idiots.
HR lady helps me carry my two boxes out to the car and I leave.
Voila! I have no job! Yay!
(wow, this is getting really long.)
Okay, now's the part of the show where I explain what happened the other week with my other co-worker. Briefly, now that I think about it. I'm tired of typing. ^_^
One of my co-workers, as some of you know, is a fundie Christian. She's the kind of lady who travels all the way to North Jersey for church, because that's where she used to live. She's around 40 years old, never been married, and lives with her mother. She's the epitome of the stereotype that you see in movies of the little black lady in church with a fan who jumps up and praises Jeebus. Can I get a witness?! WITNESS!
That kind of person. We'll call her W.
We've never really had an out and out problem before (though you may remember the problem I had with our other Christian lady who worked there, but only lasted three weeks). Sometimes, she got moody and wouldn't talk to anybody. And sometimes, she'd throw a snarky comment at me. But, I brushed it off and chalked it all up to the fact that we're all basically sitting on top of each other and it was nothing personal.
On this morning, she and D got into a little skirmish when I was away from my desk involving the receptionist (who is an older version of this lady, we'll call her R). R is kind of flakey and no one knows how she still holds a job in this place. She's constantly screwing up. Personally, I think she saved the owner's puppy from a burning building. But, that's just me.
R signs in the mail that the entire building gets. Part of her job is to sort it out to whoever it properly goes to. She's not very good at this and our department seems to be the one where she dumps everything. We've told her numerous times that if someone's name is on the package and they are not in our department, we don't get it. It just doesn't sink in.
And on this morning, she sent four or five closing packages to us with a closer's name very predominently on the package. I take them down to the closer while D calls R and tells her she did it again. While I'm away, D hangs up the phone and just says "argh! when will she get the hang of this?" W turns and says "R's a good Christian woman and so am I. So I ain't got nothing to say about her."
Long story short, W and D squabble about this for a couple of seconds. But, it blows over. I come back to my desk none the wiser. A few hours later, D sends me a goofy email forward about why women cry (and it is fucking goofy. What it amounts to is that God gave the women tears to express their hard work and sorrow at being wives and mothers). I laugh and say "This is stupid!" D insists it's cute and we both laugh because of our differing opinions. Just as I'm about to explain that I think it's stupid because not all women are wives and mothers, W jumps in with "It's not stupid if you BELIEVE."
huh? What's that got to do with anything?
She gets mad when I ask her this and asks if she was talking to me.
Well. Actually, you were. I said something. You replied in direct connection and referencing something I said. Then I replied to you.
She gets even more mad when I get fed up and ask what her problem with me today is (there had been lots of little pointed comments directed at me all day and I was tired of it).
Our argument is going nowhere fast, so I said, "You know what? I am fucking SICK of getting attitude thrown at me when I haven't done a GODDAMN thing."
D walks away from her desk to do something, I turn back to what I'm doing at my desk. Then I hear W pick up her phone and ask for HR's extention. Then I hear her call HR and ask to speak to them about something personal.
Oh please.
In response, I email our supervisor and ask to see her privately.
Yes, I'm a bitch. ^_^
After meeting with my supervisor (who was not around when this happened, she's never there when W gets twitchy), it's decided that a meeting with W and her needs to happen. Okay. I'll be spoken to again later about it. However while I was gone, another skirmish happened between D and W. So now D wants a supervisor meeting, too.
The supervisor meets with W. When W leaves, D goes in. I'm sitting at the typewriter next to W's desk, typing out an allonge. W turns to me and says, "If I said anything to you, I apologise. But, there are some things I just don't go for."
huh?
She repeats herself, word for word.
No, W. What do you MEAN?
Again, repeats herself word for word.
No. I'm asking you for clarification. What don't you "just go for"?
Well if it ever comes up again, I'll tell you.
*head explodey*
I'm never brought back into the office for a followup meeting, though from conversation with D I learn that W feels we don't like her and OBVIOUSLY talk smack on her because we talk smack on another girl who doesn't work there anymore. She feels it's because of her religion.
Sweet suffering fuck. I've never heard anything so ridiculous in my entire life. But, I let it blow over in the interest of a quiet work environment.
Retarded.
Now you can read my foot note from earlier and I'm going to go and make some more tea.
(1.) Now for those of you playing along at home, who may be of the ahhh...slower intelligence, let me point something out: We're only given six sick days a year. My employment started in 2002, that's six right there. Which I probably took as I was paid for every day I wasn't there. In 2003, I was paid for all of them but had been expecting that last bit with the bronchitis to not be fully paid for. At the most, that's 12 sick days taken total. Now add the times I've had to leave because of illness? Hmm. I can honestly only remember 2 or 3 times I've asked to leave early. But, I'll be generous and mindful of my absentmindedness and we'll say 4 times.
That still only equals 16. 9 days under 25.
I can only assume that either they've also added in any vacation time I've taken or any personal days or floating holidays which I had (all of which are given to us by the company). However, my first floating holiday was taken by the blizzard when there was a state emergency (if you didn't have time accrued or a personal day, you were shit out of luck for being paid for a day you couldn't come in because you weren't allowed to drive on the road as decreed by the state of New Jersey). My single personal day was used to take my mother for tests. And I had scheduled my second floating holiday for July 7th, that hadn't even been taken yet.
Okay. 16. Add the snow day. 17. Add the tests for my mother day. 18.
Hmm. Still not 25.
Of course, I think of all of this AFTER I come home and the initial BLARGH! has worn off. Now I reckon is the time that I would be using that business card, eh? Nope. I don't even care.
What is the sense of arguing? There isn't any. I hated the job. They fired me. I have some money in the bank to last me a couple of months for rent and bills. And I can get unemployment after six weeks.
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(no subject)
Date: 2003-07-01 02:14 pm (UTC)