I have the dubious distinction of having held a variety of really shitty jobs. REALLY. SHITTY. JOBS. And while I do not want to make the argument that any of them are worse than what I have seen on this site, it is safe to say a couple of them are unique in this regard: the bullshit didn't end when I left. Be advised there is no happy ending to this story--- yet anyway--- but time is working on my side. Read on and you'll understand...
Job #1: I was an advertising sales assistant at an in-room hotel publication. Unbeknownst to me at the time I was hired, I was walking into a "situation"--- and by using the word 'situation' I am talking about a study in female office dynamics that makes "Whatever Happened to Baby Jane" look like water ballet. You see, I was to work under two women and one was the immediate supervisor of the other. The uber-boss, we'll call her "Blanche", was brought in to supervise my under-boss, who I will henceforth call "Jane".
Jane had applied for the uber-boss position and was passed over in favor of an outside candidate (Blanche). This probably came to pass because Jane is a fucking psycho (as I soon learned): enabling her to supervise anyone would be on par with letting Michael Jackson run a day care facility. Bad idea. In any case, I had already become a pawn between two women who despised each other. Great.
In the interest of brevity I will forgo talking about Blanche's psychotic behavior, as Jane behavior was much more venal...
It started with small stuff: Jane would bitch at me for messing up her file system (I never know there was a 'system', looked piles of shit to me) or she would claim I did not send/give her some vital piece of paper work (and I'd re-send the emails addressed to her proving I did). That's roughly when she told me I had to email her each time I put something in her inbox (because it was not an 'in' box it was a compost heap).
Soon enough it got worse: she would scream at me in front of other employees for sundry offenses such as leaving my hairbrush on my desk, talk about me to other people like I was not present (I was), and yell at me while I was on the phone with advertisers or other publishers. One time she was bitching at me while I was filing (and I had, by then, ceased to give a dman) and she screamed: LOOK AT ME WHILE I'M TALKING TO YOU! Mind you, she was 36 years old at the time and I was 30.
This is when I filed a complaint with the V.P. of the company. He was out of town, but advised me to call him on his cell phone when I had the chance--- any time. I had planned this carefully and found a person on the other end of the building who let me use her office to make the call and would tell no one of my whereabouts. I made the call and returned to my desk. Jane screamed at me, demanding to know where I had been the last 15 minutes, and I didn't tell her. I found out later she had even searched the women's bathroom looking for me.
Long story made short, after 9/11 there were a slew of lay-offs. Blanche and the V.P. were the first to go. Blanche took it upon herself to lift the client contact list and a lap top computer before she left. Good for her. I got the heave-ho the Monday after Thanksgiving Holiday. I was told by the interim uber-boss who fired me that Jane would not treat anyone working under her employ like she treated me. Gee, thanks.
Needless to say, I didn't stick around. As was I was packing my stuff in a Fed Ex economy rate box in the mail room, Jane walked by smirking and asked me how I was doing. I wanted to punch her right square in the middle of her fat face. I didn't.
Tuesday morning (my first day of unemployment) I got a call at 9:00 a.m.; Jane calls to me bitch me out because she couldn't find a file. I was stunned. Absolutely stunned. My firing was not enough to satisfy this bitch; she had to call me the next day and chew me out. She had also told everyone in the office that I had stolen the lap top--- despite clear evidence to the contrary. No one believed her.
Thankfully, vindication (if you can call it that) was quick coming. A colleague of mine at that company was to assume my old responsibilities the following January. She quit the day she was supposed to start (my birthday of all days). No notice. No nothing. They hired a temp as a replacement. She lasted about a year--- which about when Jane got fired. To this day I have never gotten the full story, but then again, I pretty much know what happened: after going through six 'assistants' in less than two years, the bitch got served (notice).
Job #2: This one was at a family-owned full-service office/mail-handling facility. This 'family' (think MANSON family) used to own a bus company which declared bankruptcy after:
A. one of their buses killed a pedestrian
B. it was discovered the driver of said bus had a suspended license
C. they were changing the license plates on said buses to avoid inspection
D. were sued for about 300 counts of unpaid overtime
Office space became their new racket. Words truly fail me in describing this place--- perhaps a zoo (without cages) is the most accurate metaphor?!? The 'family' was comprised of the worst specimens humanity has to offer; they would yell and scream at each other (and their employees, myself included) constantly. Merely closing your office door was not enough to make this inaudible while talking on the phone with clients. VERY PROFESSIONAL.
Regardless, I made a decent 'go' of it and got two raises in two years. My clients liked me, probably because I genuinely cared about them and took their interests seriously. I am still in contact with a few of them even though I have not worked there in 1 ½ years. Such was the lasting impression I left.
One of them would like to hire me, but can't. This is because there is a cute little clause in her lease that states she have to pay $25,000 to hire any former employee who has less than two years elapsed since exiting the company. REPEAT: I am at 1 year, six months.
Sure, these agreements are hard to enforce--- even I know that--- but we're dealing with people who have the audacity to hound the WIDOW of a client for money; I am not taking my chances. The widow's husband, I'll call him Mr. Johansen, signed a lease starting in January which had an automatic renewal (for a duration of 12 months) if he did not give notice within 30 days. Come December, Mr. Johansen did not give 30 days notice. This is because he was in a coma dying of cancer complicated by pneumonia to be exact. And die he did: in December, right around Christmas.
I shit you not, they saw fit to send the widow and her brother (who was acting as executor of his estate) nastygrams for at least 3 months. And it was around that time I realized that I MUST leave this place.
I did leave, but these assholes 'own' my ass (in a manner of speaking) for another 5 months. This has cost me some wonderful opportunities/referrals job-wise.
I have since tried to make a 'go' at another career path and have started my own (albeit smallish) business, but I am counting down the days, nonetheless.
(Posted by Serfer)
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