Tuesday, 29 September 2009

• Dear Douchebag Manager

  Dear DM,

  You're right: I don't like you. I came in with an open mind the first day we worked together, but your creepy handshake- you know, the kind that makes a girl feel like she's being felt up?- and the "your in Kindergarten again" tone you took with me put me off. I couldn't help but wonder what pool of incompetence you came from that made you the best candidate for store manager?

  Still, I'm a professional, so whilst I poked around my coworkers for their impressions of you, I still acted like a professional. Though my first instinct was to run from the store screaming obscenities, I hung in there hoping that a bad first impression was just that: a bad FIRST impression.

  Over the weeks of working with you, you continued to treat me like it was my first day. You didn't single me out, because you did this to everyone. You gave me tasks outside my department, which got me in trouble because I wasn't in my department to actually do my job. Even though you made my skin crawl, I politely (most of the time) did everything you asked.

  Am I a perfect employee? No. I'm no Jesus. But I have a performance review, employee sales report card and several awards to let you know that I'm a damn good employee. I rock. I know it and it can be proven. Yeah, I can be spitfire when I don't get my way and I can throw out an attitude when I think you are acting a douche, but I do whatever I'm asked...and I do it well.

  Also, even if you don't like me, you really only have to see me a few hours a week. That's what has kept me going. I'll keep to myself, too, out of your way, doing my job. I hope we will be able to come to an understanding here:

  So, you know, I'm going to need you to go ahead and stop being a douchebag.

  Here's the thing:

  Yeah, I got sick. Really sick. I, being the good employee that I am, called you the day before I was scheduled to say "Gee, Mr. Douchebag, my husband was exposed to H1N1 and we are both sick. Chances are I have what he has. I wanted to make you aware because starting an epidemic in the store doesn't seem very nice."

  I figured your response would be to immediately alert whomever you needed to alert and as a precaution disinfect the store. You didn't do that. When I called the day of my shift to say "oh no, I'm dying", the assistant manager had no idea what was going on.

  Then when I spoke to you again before my next shift, you were very concerned about me not being there, not me being on my death bed. To make sure you exercised your point that you didn't think being sick was good enough to miss putting up stock, you told me you needed a doctors note.

  That's fine, despite me not having health insurance, I'll do that. I was half-dead anyway, so off to the emergency room I trotted, securing a diagnosis, prognosis, prescription and a doctor's note.

  My husband brought you the doctor's note. The note said something like "no work for 3 days" probably because the doctor was busy with a cardiac patient across the hall. And for any normal supervisor, that should pretty well clear up the matter.

  Let's think about this: No work for 3 days means on the 4th, you are fine to return to work. Its called an "inference".  Since I had my prescriptions filled at our pharmacy, one can assume that I was prescribed antibiotics because I was that sick. Generally, the whole getting better and no longer contagious thing go hand and hand (assuming your concern is about spread of illness, even though you initially neglected to let other staff know about the possible H1N1 exposure). Funny enough, on the third day of "no work" I felt so much better.

  So, I don't have health insurance and I'm not paying another couple hundred dollars for a doctors visit until I am insured and can wrangle in a doctors appointment. We, sir, are at an impasse until then. In the meantime, I'm going to discuss your douchebag-ness with your manager.

  Sincerely,

  Me

   

   

  • 6:05 PM
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