The
Promotion
by
Chuck
Last
night’s nightmare has roots in fears of
long-ago work experiences. I used to get fired a lot. Once I got too close to
the bosses wife and once I was hired in the first place to be fired because of
a company’s project being behind schedule and they were looking for a turkey to
blame it on. Gobble gobble, so on more than a few occasions I ended up walking
down the road mumbling to myself. Rarely did I ever get fired for cause.
Ok once. After showing up late for work one day on a job I hated anyway, the
boss yelled across the room at me, within hearing distance of everyone on the
crew: ‘What time is it Michael?’ Not really believing he would be dumb enough
to open himself up like that my response of: ‘ You are wearing a wristwatch, Didn’t they
cover telling time on the GED?’ Got me mercifully, fired for insubordination. Hooray. On my next
job interview that company showed up as ‘ fired for cause’. Ok. I eliminated
that job on my resume and filled in the blank with some other lame job that
couldn’t be verified. Never having been career oriented, leaving over 50 jobs
for one reason or another never hampered either my conscience or pocketbook.
One day I even quit to go surfing for the afternoon. Eventually I did run in to
a career that I did care about, but the employers in that business are noted
for bending, stretching and breaking rules for profit sake. The trouble is that
they aren’t the ones that will be taking the heat. It’s the pilot’s license at
stake, not their backsides for lack of a paper trail of verbal directions.
‘Hey, go out there, fly this way and do this and that.’ If you kill yourself or
lose your license, they hire up another pilot. If you wreck their airplane and
kill yourself they buy another plane with the insurance money and their new
pilot flies that plane straight over your smoking carcass. So I got fired from
a few and quit a few more but walked away with a clear conscience, flying
license intact, but more importantly: vertical.
Conscience
clear, vertical and smugly so, but it has to wear on a person, a history such
as mine. The thought materializes occasionally: Who's trying to get rid of me?
Who has a brother-in-law that wants my job? Is the boss going to turn out to be
a jerk? Always on any new job I like to start off playing the game: Where
is HE? Or Where’s the jerk? (read 'Surrounded by Jerks' )Terminology changed
slightly to protect the family readers here. Where is the jerk? Because
he is always there, boss or not, who is mired in jerk-ability. Some
tortured soul, unhappy at home or with life and eager to share his misery with
anyone within range. It never mattered that much till I got my current gig, going
on almost 8 years; longer than any previous job. Still, there is always that
murky thought: Who and how are they going to get rid of you? In the back of my
mind the thought that some boss or super is trying to get rid of me; lots of
people out of work. The sinecure I’ve fallen into here presents a ready target
for some managers’ unemployed son, brother-in-law, friend, wife, whoever.
Indeed, always alert for any devious maneuvers, there have been initial
gambits, exploratory management missions so to speak. I am however, unlike any
of my prior employments, protected by a number of company policy circuit
breakers. My ‘where’s the jerk’ game has revealed a number of them in this job,
but any attempt on their part, short of my giving them what I would give them
if we were logging together in the woods instead of this sterilized milquetoast
corporate environment, is simply referred to a higher level. Now they can be a
jerk to my supervisor, who, by the way, is a jerk. That tactic is sanctioned by
company policy. It’s in the employee handbook! Whoaa!! The thought is still
there though, meandering around in the recesses of my subconscious. “Who wants
my job?” So here’s last nights nightmare.
The
Pointy Haired Boss, my department head, who, I have always suspected has a
number of unemployed friends, in his typical , minimalist manner sent me
an email. “my office, now” “What’s up Boss?” Optimistically leaving the door
open as I walked in. His secretary shows up with coffee as he is opening
his mouth. She hands me a cup and congratulates me on my promotion. ‘What?
Promotion?
‘That’s
right’ Pointy Haired Boss chirps with a rare smile on his face.
“Congratulations, You’ve been promoted.” I’m flabbergasted. “ I’m not
sure I want to be promoted”, I reply. “Well, he says, The next step up from
your helpdesk job is bus mechanic. Hey! It’s half the pay but twice
the prestige. You should be happy. You are to report to the School bus depot
tomorrow morning. “No. I don’t accept the promotion. I said. I like it where I’m at sitting on my butt,
clicking a mouse. No promotion.” “Sorry, but it is against policy not to accept
a promotion.”, Pointy Haired Boss smiles back. “See. Here it is in
the employee handbook.” “That’s written in cursive.” I say. “Someone just wrote
that in.” “That’s my signature so it makes it
official”, PHB retorts. “No”, I respond. “I don’t know
the first thing about working on school busses.” “Hey”, PHB says. “You
will be in a true learning situation starting at ground zero.” PHB reaches
for the phone. “ Our busses are high tech. The head grease monkey down there is
expecting you at 7. I’m gonna tell him how glad you are to be working on school
busses. With your technical background, you will be a tremendous
asset.” PHB can hardly contain his happiness for me. He is beside himself
with glee.
At
that point, I woke up in a sweat, terrified, looking into the semi-darkness,
dawning that it was a dream. Still, I’m wary of any ominous emails offering
unique opportunities from management.
