Back at Work and the Bitterness is Subsiding

It's been a little over a month since I got canned and I'm finally getting back into the groove of working again. I'm back to the freelance web development shiznit and I even designed a brochure today. Hella fun.

As I noted in my narrative about the Employment Misadventure of 2007, when the shit came down I really did not know what the exact reason was. I knew that I was having difficulties with the job, but I thought it things were still workable. It wasn't like I was stealing office supplies and shoving company secrets into my panties before clocking out each day.

Well, lesson one for the day children is that if you want to know why you got fired, file for unemployment.

Figuring that I wasn't a pen-stealing, panty-stuffing asshat, I filed for unemployment under the theory that since I paid good money into that particular social safety net, I deserved to get some of that fundage back.

An unemployment commission chick called me up about a week or so after I filed online. She asked me what the circumstances of my termination were. I told her as much as I knew at that point. She let me know that she would be contacting my former employer for that side of the story and then the Powers That Be would make a determination. So far, so good.

I got another call from the unemployment commission a week ago. This lady (could have been the same one) said that when they first contacted my employer, they substantiated what I had reported. Then the employer followed that conversation up with a four(!) page memo that I affectionately call, "Inventory of the Myriad Ways in which April Doth Suck." In Verdana.

Why the follow up memo? My guess is that the unemployment commission indicated that it was inclined to approve my claim.

To be fair to them, some of the accusations were true (alas, I was not punctual during my last week on the job). To be fair to me, some of the accusations were complete and utter [unprintable words]! I especially enjoyed the doozy wherein someone at the company engaged in so much CYA that there is currently a shortage of Depends in the Charleston Metro area.

Due to the length of the Inventory of the Myriad Ways in which April Doth Suck, there was no feasible way for me to rebuke every item over the phone. I went down to the unemployment commission and typed up my own five (ha!) page side of the story. I even attached a photocopy of the two Gold Stars that I received during the course of my employment.

End result: Denied!

I would have appealed to the Powers That Be further (I've got a kid to feed after all), were it not for the final sentence of the determination letter, "The record states that you have excessive tardiness."

Lesson two: don't be late, kids.

What is funny to me is that I wasn't even pissed about getting canned until I read the Inventory. Disappointed? Yes. But not angry.

I actually had a great deal of respect and care for the person that wrote the Inventory up to that point. I won't go into details about exactly what the inaccuracies of the Inventory were. They aren't important except to say that it hurt that someone I personally liked very much would disparage my character and flat out lie to the end of keeping food out of my kid's mouth.

Time will heal that wound and I've learned at least three lessons from the experience. I shared two of them with you today. I hope for your sake you never have to learn number three.

As I was driving home today, a Lexus SUV (comedy gold, all by itself) passed by car on Old Trolley Road with a bumper sticker that extolled the virtues of my former workplace. I felt my stomach tighten and my right hand rose from the steering wheel...

In the early '90s, my father was terminated from his job as a design draftsman at General Dynamics. As it turns out, Dad was shoving office supplies into his panties before clocking out each day (and he got unemployment checks too). For at least a year afterwards, when Dad drove north on the 163 freeway in San Diego past Geedee's monolithic buildings, he would stick out his tongue and extend his middle finger in their direction. Then he would turn to us kids and we would all laugh at his silliness.

I re-gripped the steering wheel with both hands and heartily laughed as I hit the gas and passed the pretentious vehicle.

Thanks, Dad.