Diaryland and Jobs
I wish I still had all the posts at my old blog on Diaryland. Diaryland was ghetto and basic, but my years there encompassed the crazy of fundy town along with some of the getting out adventures. This morning I was talking to a friend about job interivews and shared one of those worst ones for myself that happened in my Diaryland days.
One of those times when I was seeking work, and I tended to look for temp jobs or long term assignments over a real job, because it fit our lives better. I came across an ad for a long term assignment doing medical records at night, right up my alley. Applied, got an interivew and prepared.
Did nails, hair, makeup. Put on a business suit, one of my favorites, navy blue with a wife label embroidered with black design. High heels, stockings. I looked professional. And then it all fell apart.
Once I got to the parking lot of the clinic things started to go haywire like I was starring in some bizarre comedy on job hunting. I got out of the car, banging my shin against the edge of the car door, creating a huge laddered run in my hose and bleeding into my shoe from the injury. I bent down to eyeball my leg and try to wipe off the blood and when I stood up I hear a rip and banged my head on the edge of the car, smearing my makeup. After removing the jacket and attempting to unsmear my face I marched towards the clinic enterance, determined this was not going to stop me. As I got to the door a bird overhead crapped right on the front of my white blouse and a heel snapped on my shoe. I hobbled in, tried to pull myself together in the restroom, including cleaning the bird poop, but all it did was make a smeared dark spot. I shrugged and hobbled into the interivew, confident that no one was going to hire the rolling disaster area I had morphed into. I didn't get the job, but I was able to laugh off all the things that happened and realize this had to have been a message from the universe that there was something very wrong with that job, which usually isn't what happens.
Usually I pick crappy jobs like some women pick bad boyfriends. The biggest example of that was the time in college when I took a job at a home builder whose name is suspiciously like Gym Wall Tear. Seemed like the perfect situation for me as a working single mother in college. The hours could be varied depending on who was coming in to sign paperwork and a variety of other issues. I was allowed to make my own schedule as long as I worked the 40 hours and got everything done. Good fit in many ways.
But I ignored the huge red flags going in, even if it wasn't me falling off my heel or banging up my leg till it bled. Over the course of the year the outlet had been through most than six different administrators. I didn't bother to wonder why, I was young and stupid then, at least stupider than I am now, which does not mean I'm not some version of stupid right now. But I've been burned enough now to ask questions about staff turnover and firing rates.
The job went well. I managed to turn around all the paperwork from the past year, get the books straightened out and other tasks. Home office sent me a big bonus and a thank you card for fixing everything wrong. I was able to go to classes and even work some on the weekends with my toddler daughter in tow. Then it started nearly five months after starting..
Once I had the books straight I started to notice a pattern. The manager was a weaselly fellow I didn't much like who spent most of his time huddling in his office that I mentally called 'Edweenie' while everyone else called him that behind his back. Pretty much universally loathed, but since I worked an odd schedule I didn't have a lot of interactions with him. He did throw a fit over the fact that when I came in on the weekends I brought my daughter with me, something I'd discussed and gotten clearance with the regional manager during my interview and subsequent conversations.
What was the pattern? That Edweenie liked to submit bullshit invoices, handwritten, for a variety of fictious things. He was skimming about fifty to hundred dollars a week out of the petty cash this way. I chose to approach Ed by telling him I knew money for tight for him and his family, so if he stopped it immediately I would say nothing, but if it continued I'd tell regional. I called him on it and was fired immediately. My separation paperwork indicated I was being let go for 'having a bad personality'.
I left and went straight to a friend's job. She worked as a paralegal for a team of lawyers. I sued and I won a twelve month severance package that at least bought me some breathing space. The company paid me off within a week. I asked for my job back, but was denied as I had yet to learn that companties never rehire people that blow the whistle on other employees. I did succeed in one thing. One of the things I forced them to do was to change my separation report to state I had been let go through no fault of my own. Of course the company wanted me to give them all the information on Edweenie's money schemes and testify in his court case. I did.
I suspect that what happened to all those other admins was the same thing as I. At some point they figured out that the manager was stealing and got canned for questioning him. I was so young and so so stupid! I should have just gone to regional quietly behind Ed's back.
One of those times when I was seeking work, and I tended to look for temp jobs or long term assignments over a real job, because it fit our lives better. I came across an ad for a long term assignment doing medical records at night, right up my alley. Applied, got an interivew and prepared.
Did nails, hair, makeup. Put on a business suit, one of my favorites, navy blue with a wife label embroidered with black design. High heels, stockings. I looked professional. And then it all fell apart.
Once I got to the parking lot of the clinic things started to go haywire like I was starring in some bizarre comedy on job hunting. I got out of the car, banging my shin against the edge of the car door, creating a huge laddered run in my hose and bleeding into my shoe from the injury. I bent down to eyeball my leg and try to wipe off the blood and when I stood up I hear a rip and banged my head on the edge of the car, smearing my makeup. After removing the jacket and attempting to unsmear my face I marched towards the clinic enterance, determined this was not going to stop me. As I got to the door a bird overhead crapped right on the front of my white blouse and a heel snapped on my shoe. I hobbled in, tried to pull myself together in the restroom, including cleaning the bird poop, but all it did was make a smeared dark spot. I shrugged and hobbled into the interivew, confident that no one was going to hire the rolling disaster area I had morphed into. I didn't get the job, but I was able to laugh off all the things that happened and realize this had to have been a message from the universe that there was something very wrong with that job, which usually isn't what happens.
Usually I pick crappy jobs like some women pick bad boyfriends. The biggest example of that was the time in college when I took a job at a home builder whose name is suspiciously like Gym Wall Tear. Seemed like the perfect situation for me as a working single mother in college. The hours could be varied depending on who was coming in to sign paperwork and a variety of other issues. I was allowed to make my own schedule as long as I worked the 40 hours and got everything done. Good fit in many ways.
But I ignored the huge red flags going in, even if it wasn't me falling off my heel or banging up my leg till it bled. Over the course of the year the outlet had been through most than six different administrators. I didn't bother to wonder why, I was young and stupid then, at least stupider than I am now, which does not mean I'm not some version of stupid right now. But I've been burned enough now to ask questions about staff turnover and firing rates.
The job went well. I managed to turn around all the paperwork from the past year, get the books straightened out and other tasks. Home office sent me a big bonus and a thank you card for fixing everything wrong. I was able to go to classes and even work some on the weekends with my toddler daughter in tow. Then it started nearly five months after starting..
Once I had the books straight I started to notice a pattern. The manager was a weaselly fellow I didn't much like who spent most of his time huddling in his office that I mentally called 'Edweenie' while everyone else called him that behind his back. Pretty much universally loathed, but since I worked an odd schedule I didn't have a lot of interactions with him. He did throw a fit over the fact that when I came in on the weekends I brought my daughter with me, something I'd discussed and gotten clearance with the regional manager during my interview and subsequent conversations.
What was the pattern? That Edweenie liked to submit bullshit invoices, handwritten, for a variety of fictious things. He was skimming about fifty to hundred dollars a week out of the petty cash this way. I chose to approach Ed by telling him I knew money for tight for him and his family, so if he stopped it immediately I would say nothing, but if it continued I'd tell regional. I called him on it and was fired immediately. My separation paperwork indicated I was being let go for 'having a bad personality'.
I left and went straight to a friend's job. She worked as a paralegal for a team of lawyers. I sued and I won a twelve month severance package that at least bought me some breathing space. The company paid me off within a week. I asked for my job back, but was denied as I had yet to learn that companties never rehire people that blow the whistle on other employees. I did succeed in one thing. One of the things I forced them to do was to change my separation report to state I had been let go through no fault of my own. Of course the company wanted me to give them all the information on Edweenie's money schemes and testify in his court case. I did.
I suspect that what happened to all those other admins was the same thing as I. At some point they figured out that the manager was stealing and got canned for questioning him. I was so young and so so stupid! I should have just gone to regional quietly behind Ed's back.
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