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Wow, I haven't been fired from a job in a really long time. Yesterday, when I walked into my gas station/convenience store job, I got fired. The boss said that I was "not performing to his standards".
I took a drive over to Keith's; he's the store's assistant manager. He was up on the roof of his garage, trimming tree branches. I got out of my van and stood looking up. "You just get off?" he said.
"Nope. Harry just fired me."
He blinked. Then shook his head, as if to clear it. "What the hell?"
"Yeah," I said, "that's what I thought."
I just talked to Keith a couple of days ago about my work performance. His evaluation was that I had a tendency to stray off task, but that overall I was fine.
After helping Keith clear the branches off the garage roof (one got stuck, and he pushed and I pulled), we went in and had a cup of coffee. Keith said, "You know, Harry never did really like you very much."
I sighed and nodded. Harry is the type of fundamentalist Christian who believes that the earth was created a little over 5000 years ago. I'm a socialist, pro-life feminist. I think he's an idiot and he thinks I'm a slut. But, you know, this stuff was all underneath. Not pertinent to the work environment.
Or, well, I guess it was. Keith wiped his glasses off on his shirt. "He must've been looking for a reason to fire you, and you conveniently provided one."
What I did was... not cool, but, in my mind anyways (obviously), not worth being fired over. See, when I'm up at the cash register and there's someone in the store getting coffee or someone at the pumps getting gas, I can't leave the register; I have to stand there and wait for them. So, I have this habit of writing poetry while I'm standing there. Harry hates that. I should be working, not writing poetry. There's always something to do, you know. I could be neatening the impulse-stuff on the countertop, or filling up the cigarettes slots, or such.
Last Saturday, while I was behind the counter, I popped open my laptop, copied a piece of poetry I'd writen onto the store's desktop and printed it. I wanted to give a hard copy to a friend. I've printed lots of poetry out on the store computer before without any comment from management. I'd share them with whoever I was working with. It was the laptop that Harry had a problem with. I guess that crossed some kind of boundary.
To be fair to Harry, I'm not the "busy bee" kind of employee who's always looking for a project, and I'm the annoying one who's almost always five minutes late. Not your Type A personality. But, to be fair to myself, I get my assigned tasks done, I never call in sick, I get along with my co-workers and the customers are very fond of me - I'm good with people.
I already have a line on a new job -- I'll apply tomorrow and probably interview this weekend. It's an aide position in an Adult Foster Care home. When I told them that I had aide experience and would be going to nursing school, they were very interested. Mike writes from Lansing "Sorry to hear about Holiday. I know you liked it there. (the new job lead) That was fast. How did you find out about this place? It is more up you line anyways." Such a solid guy.
I took a drive over to Keith's; he's the store's assistant manager. He was up on the roof of his garage, trimming tree branches. I got out of my van and stood looking up. "You just get off?" he said.
"Nope. Harry just fired me."
He blinked. Then shook his head, as if to clear it. "What the hell?"
"Yeah," I said, "that's what I thought."
I just talked to Keith a couple of days ago about my work performance. His evaluation was that I had a tendency to stray off task, but that overall I was fine.
After helping Keith clear the branches off the garage roof (one got stuck, and he pushed and I pulled), we went in and had a cup of coffee. Keith said, "You know, Harry never did really like you very much."
I sighed and nodded. Harry is the type of fundamentalist Christian who believes that the earth was created a little over 5000 years ago. I'm a socialist, pro-life feminist. I think he's an idiot and he thinks I'm a slut. But, you know, this stuff was all underneath. Not pertinent to the work environment.
Or, well, I guess it was. Keith wiped his glasses off on his shirt. "He must've been looking for a reason to fire you, and you conveniently provided one."
What I did was... not cool, but, in my mind anyways (obviously), not worth being fired over. See, when I'm up at the cash register and there's someone in the store getting coffee or someone at the pumps getting gas, I can't leave the register; I have to stand there and wait for them. So, I have this habit of writing poetry while I'm standing there. Harry hates that. I should be working, not writing poetry. There's always something to do, you know. I could be neatening the impulse-stuff on the countertop, or filling up the cigarettes slots, or such.
Last Saturday, while I was behind the counter, I popped open my laptop, copied a piece of poetry I'd writen onto the store's desktop and printed it. I wanted to give a hard copy to a friend. I've printed lots of poetry out on the store computer before without any comment from management. I'd share them with whoever I was working with. It was the laptop that Harry had a problem with. I guess that crossed some kind of boundary.
To be fair to Harry, I'm not the "busy bee" kind of employee who's always looking for a project, and I'm the annoying one who's almost always five minutes late. Not your Type A personality. But, to be fair to myself, I get my assigned tasks done, I never call in sick, I get along with my co-workers and the customers are very fond of me - I'm good with people.
I already have a line on a new job -- I'll apply tomorrow and probably interview this weekend. It's an aide position in an Adult Foster Care home. When I told them that I had aide experience and would be going to nursing school, they were very interested. Mike writes from Lansing "Sorry to hear about Holiday. I know you liked it there. (the new job lead) That was fast. How did you find out about this place? It is more up you line anyways." Such a solid guy.