Break A Leg

I had been working at a two lawyer lawfirm for about a year. I hadn’t
called in sick, was on time every day and managed to handle the
strange guys I worked for. I say strange because even after a year of
working, I still didn’t know if one of my bosses was married and their
business dealings were slightly suspicious. So, being a single mom, I
knew I had to suck it up until something better came along.

One Saturday, my 7-year old son broke his femur (the biggest bone in your
body) and had to have 2 rods surgically put into the broken bone. I
called my boss on Sunday and told him that since my son was a minor,
I could not (and would not!) leave him alone at any time while in the
hospital. He carefully went over the details with me as to where, when
and how and then hung up. When I returned to work on Thursday, I was
told that “they really need someone they can count on and since it
was obvious that my son would be having upcoming doctor’s
appointments, it’s best that they find someone else for my position”.
I was absolutely floored!!! I left, took care of my son and went into a
very deep depression for about 6 months. After that, I found a new
job, I’m still here (4 years) and I still love it! It’s a great
company and very family oriented! So to those two guys, well, my
greatest wish is that you both break a leg! Literally.

Tertiary

My boyfriend is an IT Specialist for a small-town business services
company. His boss is one of those people who thinks he knows
everything because he owns the business. There are many stories I
could tell to illustrate this man’s complete ineptitude, but for
today, I’ll share this one…

My boyfriend had just finished putting together a quote for a client
who wanted to upgrade their servers. In the proposal, my boyfriend
used the terms “primary,” “secondary,” and “tertiary” to refer to the
first, second, and third-level servers. As the boss was looking over
the quote, he stopped suddenly, looked confused, and said, “Uhh…
you know, we should probably change this word [referring to tertiary,
which he couldn't pronounce]… the client probably won’t know what we
mean. Let’s use something else in place of it.” When my boyfriend
explained that tertiary meant third, his boss insisted on the use of
the word “third” instead.

Primary, secondary, … third. Incidentally, this is the same guy who
pays my boyfriend $13.50/hr, contracts him out at $99/hr, doesn’t
provide health insurance for his employees, and believes that God is
blessing his business and that’s why he can afford to drive a
Corvette.

Use That Door

I was interviewing for a correctional officer position at a prison.
During the interview, I explained to them that I was engaged to be
married later that year in August. They understood that as a
condition of working there, I would have to have some time off to be
married and take a honeymoon out of state. They knew this and agreed
that it wouldn’t be a problem.

I get the job and work three months and submit my request for
vacation so that I can go get married. I thought that everything
would be fine. The captain at the prison denies it and says “You
haven’t been here long enough”. I tried to fight it and they wouldn’t
budge. So, I submitted my two weeks notice.

During those final two weeks, all the other officers in the prison
treated me like shit. Very rude, not helping me out when I needed it,
making up rumors, etc. My final day, after I had turned in all my
equipment and was leaving, the supervisor on duty would not let me
leave through the door that the officers used. I had to leave through
the guest entrance. He said “THAT door is for OFFICERS ONLY!!! You
have to use THAT OTHER door!!!” He had shouted this in front of
people who had come to the prison to visit their family members who
were incarcerated.

It was very embarassing to say the least. Never again will I work for
a prison.

I Like Turtles

I work in a very small office with about 11 other employees….all
men. I’m the one and only female.

One day we had an interviewee and a vendor sitting in the lobby
waiting to be called back. My boss gets up from the conference room
full of people, which is literally ten steps from the lobby and very
loudly announces that he needs to use the bathroom because he has a
“turtle creeping” (which is 14 year old boy talk for a poop poking
out your butt). I was MORTIFIED. Things like this are a regular
occurrence in this office.

Each day this job kills a small part of me inside. I contemplate
driving off a tall overpass each night on my commute home from work.