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KRANWEST -> They Tried to Fire Me (Back to Work!) (4/19/2008 3:28:01 PM)
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I’ve never functioned like a “model” employee: Never exceeded department expectations… never strived for excellence… never displayed my bright, iridescent plumage for the shift managers. Hell, I resemble a loiterer more than anything – a parasitic insect, burrowing its head into the company payroll.
At lunch, I sprawl out in my booth, facing a tiny wall-mounted television in the employee lounge. “Days of Our Lives” or some other shmaltz-fest is ready to segue into its climax: A youngish, stubble-faced Italian-American actor uncovers the truth about his old man’s death. It’s as good as anything else – more stylized than reality shows… less affecting than Tennessee Williams.
“Kranwest”
The voice registers, but my attention is too directed on plot-resolution to acknowledge anything.
“KRANWEST”
Damn: Spoiling the drama.
“Hey Kenny”
Kenny is smug, with his fancy upper-management position. He’s a real unctuous cocksucker – a squat, three-hundred pound, ambulating prick. When he’s not polishing the knobs of higher-ups, Kenny can be found in the cafeteria, gorging himself “Queen-Bee” style on cheeseburgers and curly-fries.
“Glad to see you back, Kranwest! It was a rough couple weeks. Hell….it’s probably better that you didn’t have to go through all of that mess!”
I’ve never liked perfunctory small talk. Can’t stand it --especially, when it’s coming from the man who terminated my employment status two weeks ago.
“Yeah. I guess I had a bit of a mini-vacation.”
This fuck called me into “Admin” two weeks prior – called to tell me that I had exceeded my “point” limit. Two absences equal one point, and if you exceed your point limit, they send you to pack your shit. Somehow, I miscalculated my points and took one too many days off. They even had the paperwork to prove it.
“Well. You are feeling better aren’t you? No more problems?”, Kenny asks, showing me that blue-ribbon smile. I could take him by his ugly-ass tie and drive my elbow into his lard-filled cheek.
These tie-sporting shitkickers thought that they’d finally nailed me to the board....got me real good! That is, until I talked to my doctor. We have a real good relationship, and every once and a while, when I really need it, he’ll toss me a life preserver.
“Yes. I just thought that medical leave could be filed after the return date. Besides, I wasn’t in any shape to pick up papers.”
I’m lying, and it feels damn wonderful to mislead an uppity bastard like Kenny A couple little talks with Marissa from Human Resources, (with my doctor’s “paperwork” backing me up) and my “termination” was transformed into a two-week vacation.
“Well…if you ever need anything, just come on up to Admin and I’ll see what I can do”.
He’s full of it. I’ll bet that he damn near nutted himself when he got the chance to term me. It’s too bad that Kenny’s moment of nirvana got shattered by Yours Truly. Too damn bad.
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