Fraudsters & Imps

I shouldn’t have said that “black being slimming has its limitations” but you’ll need some context to judge if this merited what followed.

The context:

By my second year, our department head at this company had proven herself to be immature and unprofessional, quickly becoming best friends with new staff members until they inevitably wronged her in someway that was usually only obvious to her, and she would fire them or have them transferred.

We liked each other in the department, though; we got along well, unified through our sense of humour and dislike for our common enemies. Along with the department head, was one of the heads of the entire organisation—a many-headed beast—who was always soap-opera angry about something. He would catch on fire when he saw me because I wasn’t good at pretending I didn’t think he overreacted for attention. It was the main component of his rule through fear which made it difficult for me to take him seriously. I often fantasised that he might drop down dead during one of his fits, and I’d carry on packing clipboards and walkie-talkies into a suitcase to take with me to the airport. There, I would help supervise the transport of arriving and departing passengers who would join or had left cruise ships in the seaport, respectively, as if he had not dropped down dead.

I liked most that this job took me outside, which is what I appreciated about the job before. It was easier to get away with doing things in simpler, more efficient ways, than you might be able to if you had someone with something broken off up their ass, making sure you followed rules. There were other things to like such as discounted fares for cruises and having access to the airport runway where you could get close enough to the planes to more easily imagine yourself leaving on one of them again, this time forever. Spending most my time at the airport, I’d met a few celebrities including Amy Winehouse who I liked from our brief encounter. After we showed her the bathrooms, she went into the men’s room by mistake. Later, in response to my workmate’s, “I hope you’re behaving yourself Amy!” (like the two was friends), instead of blister-blinding her in cuss, she said, “Of course not!”

My ‘as good as it gets’ work life all went to shit when the new girl arrived. Her father knew people that the many-headed-monster was interested in gobbling up, so she became the department head’s new best friend. With that, we were suddenly reminded on a few occasions, by a raised voice, that we should be careful what we say in the department because, apparently, with her new friendship, the department head had developed the ability to hear through walls. I would look the two up and down, when they stood next to each other babbling, and wonder how you get to be so. This need to showoff, to show that you know or have something or somebody when all I wanted was to be left alone to do what was put before me so I could get paid.

“Black being slimming has its limitations,” I said, and it was an unkind thing to say. Humans say unkind things sometimes. It was said to my workmates, though, albeit in front of The Snitch and it was said in a moment’s weakness when I couldn’t resist the set up. Fatty-Ballaty (I called the department head Fatty-Ballaty behind her back because ‘body shaming’ hadn’t been invented yet, and she was always announcing that she was buying fast-food to take home for her “neighbour”), Fatty-Ballaty asked how she looked, waltzing in in a black form-fitting dress that wasn’t very flattering. Everyone lied or stumbled over their words to try to be kind. She left and that was my response, “Black being slimming has its limitations” for I was of the strong opinion that developing self-control would treat the problem, not attempting to mask it.

What followed:

A week later, the fraudsters and imps called me into the office of the one who was always throwing tantrums. This occurred at the end of the day (as is customary). “Economic downturn,” he said. “This change has been made at the seaport as well,” he said, (although the job names changed, but the job remained, I was later told). The timing was just coincidental, right?

Well, Fatty-Ballaty asked if there was anything I required and I said I’d like a reference letter, but, still in cripplingly youthful naïveté, I thought I wouldn’t inconvenience them and would collect it on Monday (this occurred on a Friday on which I was to, after our talk, return to my desk only to get my things, then leave immediately). Monday never came. I called a few times but the fraudster was never in office. To this day, I’m just guessing it’s because of that ‘black being slimming’ comment that they never returned my calls, but I really don’t know because the cunts were too fucking unprofessional and/or cowardly to say. There was no concern for my having to explain to the next job interviewer what I’d been doing for those two fourteen hour day years (during the tourist season) without seeming like a villain because of this impression that companies always have a good reason for terminating its slaves. There were others with whom I worked directly who were happy to write me reference letters I turned out not to need, however.

I decided not to retaliate by emailing, to the entire fucking company, a photo I’d taken of The Snitch at the airport sprawling across a bench sleeping with one leg cocked-up over the back rest, in her uniform with the company logo, when she should have been minding her own fucking business.

Woah…it feels good to vent! But now I see being fired this way: I needed to move on to greater things, to things that were meant for me, but I wasn’t making the decision to do this, so it had to be made for me. No hard feelings Fatty-Ballaty. (But seriously, I’m glad for the life I have lived since then and I hope you are no longer obese).

#careercrisis #Ihatemyjob #modernslavery #mybosshatesme #wagelabor #employment #majorlifechanges #followyourheart