Tuesday, August 7, 2012

In which I get fired for talking shit.

Or, saying "shit," to be more accurate.

Today, as I was walking out of my building at Mega Corporate Behemoth, heading to lunch, I saw a familiar face. It was my contact at the contracting company that placed me at Mega Corporate Behemoth.

Contracting Guy and I chatted on the sidewalk a bit, and then he mentioned that Mega Corporate Behemoth had decided to terminate my contract. Because I am not a good fit. After 2 months of menial work and conversations during which I said that I needed work, was willing and able to help, and was actually creating projects for myself, all to zero response? Last week, I told my manager that I was "underutilized and felt like no one gave a shit that I was there."

People, I sayeth the truth.

And I got shit canned. For saying "shit."

Turns out said manager took issue with my attitude and felt I wasn't a good fit.

So, there was Contracting Guy, interrupting my lunch plans. He was there to walk me back to my Cube of Despair and watch me pack up my shit, err, stuff, and escort me from the premises. Immediately. Because I just might completely fuck some shit, err, stuff, up!

As he watched me throw my box of Kleenex into my messenger bag, Contracting Guy actually said to me, "Listen, I'm gonna break with protocol a little bit. I'm not supposed to leave you unattended, but I need to use the restroom. Try not to go all Exorcist while I'm gone, OK?"

Umm, sure, buddy.

So, I managed not to act like an idiot in those 3 unattended minutes. I walked out with my head held high, even when we walked past a conference room where all the managers from my team were meeting. I made a point to be laughing and engrossed in conversation with Contracting Guy as we passed the open conference room door, because come on.

As Contractor Guy got me all the way to my car without me breaking shit, err, stuff, or stealing anything, I told him that when he goes to fill that position again, he should look for someone young, someone who doesn't ask a lot of questions.

I'm too seasoned to waste my time. Which is why I'm currently drinking beer. And trying to overlook my bruised ego.

11 comments:

  1. Holy shit. I call bullshit. Really? One word was the reason you didn't fit? What a bunch of shitheads.

    Perhaps a blessing in disguise?

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  2. They obviously don't know how to manage for shit, and you are WAAAAYYY too good for them. They'll shit themselves when they see how far you rise above their bullshit. You, my dear, are THE SHIT. Enjoy your beer!

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  3. I have been there. Even though your work ethic would not let you sink to their level and you know you are soooo much happier not having to go there every day, it still bruises. Something better will come along. You just have to weed through it. Think how great you will feel tomorrow morning knowing you don't have to face your Cubicle of Despair.

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  4. This is a total screw job, Cha cha!! You are awesome and they should be grateful that you deigned to use the word "shit" on their turf. Better things are yet to come. Do not despair. In the meantime? A pox on them. Boxes of poxes.

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  5. OMG
    That's disgusting.
    This is why I can't talk myself into going back into the workforce to top up the retirement funds.
    I could not swallow all that crap any more.
    Head up, take a breath. Better things ahead:)

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  6. If it's the company I think it is, they are all shitheads. Yes, your ego is bruised right now, but you will shake it off and because you are THE SHIT, you will find better. If you need to take a day to listen to hair band power ballads, let me know. I'll dust off my Poison CD and ol' Brett will make everything better!

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  7. Um, like. Wowza. What can I do for you, other than bring you more beer?

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  8. I had some right purty cuss words going through my head as I read your post. (At first I thought it was a joke, so I had to read it a couple of times--it's late, I'm tired, who'd fire Cha Cha?)

    But all the good swear words have been used up above, so I'll just say that's abominable. Stupid. And not surprising.

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