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ninanevermore.
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I got a call from Yvette, my former coworker at Big Death, yesterday. She, too, is still out of work. She, too, has not had her unemployment benefits from the state either confirmed or denied. While I'm well into the acceptance stage of grief over the loss of my job (I'm not grieving the job so much as the paycheck it represented), she is stuck in the anger stage. She has every right to be angry – they accused her of lying and stealing by claiming she did not work through the lunches that she actually did work through and claiming them on her time sheet. She worked for 15 years at the job she left before she came to work at Big Death, with nary a black mark on her employment record. Being fired and being called a liar and a thief has her blood boiling.
To tell the truth, I'm angry on her account, as well. She was the only person in my division who actually talked to me and made me feel welcomed. She is a genuinely good person; kind, generous, and down to earth. She also says what she thinks and doesn't mince words. It's hard not to love her. Her anger is easier to see than mine is. When Yvette is angry, her blood boils hot. When I get angry, my blood runs cold. While I am not ranting about them to everyone I talk to (though it is hard to hide the disgust on my face), I am wishing ill on the corporate machine that is Big Death. May every sleazy thing happening within your ranks rise to the surface, and may scandals that follow run rampant. May you lose all the lawsuits pending against you, and all the ones that law firms around the country are preparing to file that you don't yet know about. May your stock plummet.
Maybe I should contact my old friend the Cajun Queen and ask if she knows any gris gris to negatively impact a giant corporation's stock prices. I don't know all that much about gris gris myself, but if it's something as simple as spitting on a picture on their corporate logo and rubbing some graveyard dirt (easily obtained from one of their own graveyards) on it and setting it on fire by the light of the full moon, I think even a non Voodoo practicing person such as myself can manage something like that.*
As for myself, I did type out the word damnit in an email. I did. I admit it. Probably worse words have been used in emails within the ranks of the corporation, but they were used by men and while it is manly to swear, it's not ladylike. As if being a woman were not bad enough, I didn't have enough rank to swear. I'm sure you have to be middle management or higher to get away with a damnit, and probably upper management to get away with the S or the F word. Nothing I can do about it now. To hell with them. I can swear all I want now, provided my 5 year old is out of earshot.
I may occasionally swear, but Yvette is neither a thief nor a liar. I can feel rage over what happened to her that I can't muster for what happened to me. Her termination was absolutely unjustified, and Big Death should be ashamed of itself. If the people calling the shots there were capable of shame at all, they would be.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * # * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
* When they read this, most of them will take it very seriously and assume I am not joking. No one there ever got my sense of humor. Irony and dry, underhanded barbs are lost on most of them. I've never met a more literal-minded group of people in my life. On the other hand, maybe I'm not joking. Spitting on a picture, rubbing some dirt on it and setting it on fire by the light of the moon, is what, about 2 minutes worth of work to bring down a giant? I'm unemployed, what do I have except time? Might be fun just to try.
.
.
I got a call from Yvette, my former coworker at Big Death, yesterday. She, too, is still out of work. She, too, has not had her unemployment benefits from the state either confirmed or denied. While I'm well into the acceptance stage of grief over the loss of my job (I'm not grieving the job so much as the paycheck it represented), she is stuck in the anger stage. She has every right to be angry – they accused her of lying and stealing by claiming she did not work through the lunches that she actually did work through and claiming them on her time sheet. She worked for 15 years at the job she left before she came to work at Big Death, with nary a black mark on her employment record. Being fired and being called a liar and a thief has her blood boiling.
To tell the truth, I'm angry on her account, as well. She was the only person in my division who actually talked to me and made me feel welcomed. She is a genuinely good person; kind, generous, and down to earth. She also says what she thinks and doesn't mince words. It's hard not to love her. Her anger is easier to see than mine is. When Yvette is angry, her blood boils hot. When I get angry, my blood runs cold. While I am not ranting about them to everyone I talk to (though it is hard to hide the disgust on my face), I am wishing ill on the corporate machine that is Big Death. May every sleazy thing happening within your ranks rise to the surface, and may scandals that follow run rampant. May you lose all the lawsuits pending against you, and all the ones that law firms around the country are preparing to file that you don't yet know about. May your stock plummet.
Maybe I should contact my old friend the Cajun Queen and ask if she knows any gris gris to negatively impact a giant corporation's stock prices. I don't know all that much about gris gris myself, but if it's something as simple as spitting on a picture on their corporate logo and rubbing some graveyard dirt (easily obtained from one of their own graveyards) on it and setting it on fire by the light of the full moon, I think even a non Voodoo practicing person such as myself can manage something like that.*
As for myself, I did type out the word damnit in an email. I did. I admit it. Probably worse words have been used in emails within the ranks of the corporation, but they were used by men and while it is manly to swear, it's not ladylike. As if being a woman were not bad enough, I didn't have enough rank to swear. I'm sure you have to be middle management or higher to get away with a damnit, and probably upper management to get away with the S or the F word. Nothing I can do about it now. To hell with them. I can swear all I want now, provided my 5 year old is out of earshot.
I may occasionally swear, but Yvette is neither a thief nor a liar. I can feel rage over what happened to her that I can't muster for what happened to me. Her termination was absolutely unjustified, and Big Death should be ashamed of itself. If the people calling the shots there were capable of shame at all, they would be.
* When they read this, most of them will take it very seriously and assume I am not joking. No one there ever got my sense of humor. Irony and dry, underhanded barbs are lost on most of them. I've never met a more literal-minded group of people in my life. On the other hand, maybe I'm not joking. Spitting on a picture, rubbing some dirt on it and setting it on fire by the light of the moon, is what, about 2 minutes worth of work to bring down a giant? I'm unemployed, what do I have except time? Might be fun just to try.
