Sunday, October 22, 2006


There is good news, and there is bad news in the land of Lizzle.

The good news is that I still have my health.

The bad news is that my health is not insured as a direct result of my being “let go” on Friday.

Oh… That being let go part? Yes, well, that’s also bad news, I suppose, isn’t it?

Yes, it’s true I’m afraid. Just as I began the motions necessary to totally, completely, and fully extricate myself from the guttural existence I had called home little more than a month ago, I have found myself cast back to square one.

What happened this time? Hell if I know. What I do know is that one of the more tolerable partners in the firm where I was employed pulled me into his office late Friday, (and for the record that line in “Office Space” is true, they do always do it on a Friday afternoon to prevent an incident… anyway,) and he let me know that while he knew I was still new to the job in general, and that despite that fact I was performing at about 80% of what they would fully want, (he noted that 80% was quite good given the time I’ve been there,) that I was still technically in the probationary period of employment. And that as such, and seeing that they are going into the winter slump of the real estate market’s typical flux, they figured that they could get by utilizing the other two admins they had, and rely on temps for extreme situations. Thus they save the pay they would normally issue to me, and since that “probationary period” was still in effect they could also get out of paying the finder’s fee to the woman who made the last month possible. (If any of that sounded familiar to you from the last time we went through this, I assure you that I too have noted the similarities, and I only wish I was making this entire thing up.)

So what did I do wrong?

I can’t really pin it down.

Did I sit and do my nails at my desk? No. That was one of the other admins. Did I screw up a mailing? Nope, that was the same admin busy doing her nails. Did I drop a phone call? Yes, but so did everyone else… The phones have been an issue for everyone lately in that office. (Mind you, I was also LEARNING the phone system.) Did I read magazines when I should have been doing filing, or copying, or something equally menial yet semi-productive? Nope. Once again, that was the admin/manicurist. Did I perform my puppet show for the wrong client? Nope… I didn’t even have a chance to finalize the script, or make key casting decisions. Did I come in late? Once, and I have the red line trains to thank for that one… And I did call as soon as I figured out I would be late. Did I spit in the boss’ coffee? No, although I did have motive and opportunity on that one... (I think I should get extra credit for not doing that!) Did I take personal calls at work? One, on my cell phone, on my birthday. The other girls spent HUGE chunks of their days on personal calls. And since we’re on the subject of phones, at this point, I would like to point out a HUGE disparity between the number of calls I took on a daily basis as opposed to the other two people who knew what the hell was going on. Not only did I not take personal calls, I fielded 95% of the incoming business calls to that office. At first I considered it a “trial by fire” type of deal where I was forced to learn the phone system through sheer volume, but after a couple of weeks, it became apparent that the phone duties had pretty much entirely passed to me. Ok, so what else is left? Did I steal from the company? Nope, even though I did have a day when I was handed over $100,000.00 in endorsed checks to deposit. Did I come in hung over, unkempt, and reeking of booze? Nope. Not once. I always showed up fully dressed, made-up, coiffed, aware, and prepared for the work day. I am willing to contend that the fact is that if there were any “unprofessional” behaviors which I engaged in, that I didn’t engage in any of them until I saw a standing precedent which led me to believe it was acceptable practice in this office. Basically when you’re working your butt off, and one admin is on a personal call, and the other is watching YouTube clips, you feel like your job is pretty secure… Apparently not.

Was I perfect? No. I’m not trying to pretend that I was. Was I doing my best to learn the way things were done at this particular office? Yes. Was I in any way acting with flagrant disregard for the way things worked there? I don’t think so. Despite the few mistakes I am more than willing to concede, I can’t think of anything deserving a dismissal... I think this was just another maneuver on the behalf of corporate America to save money at the expense of (low man on the pole,) Lizzle. In this case, not only do they save my salary, they also save the fee to the dear sweet woman who put me in touch with these … these … (Well…My momma taught me that if I couldn’t say anything nice about someone I shouldn’t say anything at all, and in the interest of listening to her, for once I’m not going to finish that sentence.)

And of course this would happen just after the purchase of my new winter coat… Mere hours after I removed the tags on my bargain.

And so I’ve spent this weekend alone, just trying to breathe, and think, and not wanting to feel this crap all over again and so I’ve been behaving like an alcoholic and drinking myself retarded in the evening hours so that I can get a full night’s sleep only so that I can get up in the morning and breathe and think and feel it again the next day… And come Monday, I am going to look down at my new place on square one, and I’m going to say, “Ok, here we go again. This is as good a place to start over as any, so LET’S GO BITCHES! LET’S THROW DOWN!"

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