Take this Job and shove it Today was the day, my probation was over and it was time to ask for an increase. I’d spent four months mentally preparing myself for this. My friends and co-workers warned me he was a screamer and as tight as a ducks ass. But, I was ready. A normal day at the office, I’d come to adjust well to the eccentricities of working in finance. Lawyers spent the day discussing loopholes, evading the law. Analysts spent the day starring at computer screens, wrapped up in their work, searching for a rise or fall in the charts. Anything they could benefit from. It seemed to me like these places were the only ones making money, even when people were losing homes and family’s because of it. But there was nothing I could do about that, I was just there to do my job, and go home. Fortunately, I wasn’t there to make them money, I had my own skill. Running a department, all by my-self, where your field of expertise is necessary but different from everyone else’s could be friendless at times. At least there were a few characters around who could be counted on for decent bit of banter and a laugh. The new Irish woman who worked on their servers was definitely a bit of a character. Imagine God, but with lots of blond hair and a love for food, and rough around the edges. She and the food trolley woman almost came to blows over who should email the staff about fixing the heat. It was certainly out of the ordinary and sometimes entertaining. Entertainment to disturb the dullness of a day at the office was always good. I did my best to stay clear of it. The boss was not a good block. The jet-setting CEO of a multi-million Euro company felt like everyone was a pain. I once asked him, during my probation, if it would be okay to go outside for a walk during my lunch break. He began to describe that he’d prefer his employees keep working during lunch, but I figured you know employment laws and all, I’d put my foot down on this one. Begrudgingly, he said ok. Sometimes I wonder if slave owners just became CEOs. Since slavery was outlawed by Abe, you know because it was immoral, they had all gotten together and decided to trick us right back into it. They didn’t live on cotton farms anymore, just big offices and ran Banks, with bright windows, and lots of cash. Although, I have to say I always found it funny that no matter how much money they had, in the end they died anyway. Ladies and gentlemen; the great equalizer – death. But today was it, I had asked him for a meeting on my last day of probation to discuss my salary. It was at least thirty percent below the starting salary for someone doing the same job anywhere else. I took it for the experience, and for something to do while I kept looking. But, as it turned out I was unexpectedly great at it. At one point, he walked around the office shouting that everyone should see my work; they all needed to learn from it. Call me crazy, but that justified a raise to me. While I waited for the meeting to come up, I worked with the resident handy-man to move my office. I needed a more quiet space to complete parts of my work and he’d just gotten back from his vacation. We didn’t get very far into it before I realized it was time to meet. I gathered my things, a pen and paper, and entered the meeting room boldly. My heart was racing wildly and I was suppressing the urge to throw up. Okay, what did you want to talk to me about? He’d opened up with little fanfare, it wasn’t his style. Well, as you know, today is my last day of probation, and before I can accept a full-time position, there are a few things that we need to discuss. I put my neatly folded hands on the table and sat upright. Look brave. Quell the vomit. Like what? He seemed annoyed. For example, the salary for this position doesn’t reflect either the quantity or quality of my work. He raised his hand, as though he were a crossing guard. Let me stop you right there. Fumes could be seen coming from his ears. You’ve been here four months, and you haven’t proven yourself. Four months of work isn’t proving oneself? Well, this certainly wasn’t going to end well. Real steam now, he was a bit unhinged, his voice began to rise and his face reddened. Listen, if you even want to discuss money, just leave, and go now. Auto-pilot took over; leave when, the end of the day or now. You need to be clear. There was no more vomit, just sheer will power. Now, he leaned back in his chair, cross-legged, fuming, and red-faced. It would have been very funny any other time. I figured he was thinking I’d renege on my request, apologize and go back to my desk, complete my work, earn my sad little pay cheque, and he would win. But, this time he needed to lose. Okay. I picked up my pen, saying you can keep the paper, opened the door, and walked out of the room, leaving him still sitting there. Taking everything that was mine from my desk; a can of red bull I kept there for times like this. I dropped what was mine into a box. Then, as everyone’s excited eyes were glued to me, he emerged from the meeting room and sulked over to his desk. My peripheral vision said he was furious. I grabbed my jacket, slipped it on, said good bye to a couple co-workers, well ex-co-workers now, and walked out. You’ve got more balls than anyone here! A young financial analyst spoke, as he walked by me while I waited for the elevator. I smiled politely, and said good bye. He was right. I’d called the fat cat’s bluff and this time I won. I left with my pride....
Posted on: Sun, 02 Feb 2014 17:14:19 +0000
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