By now, we all know that my appointment with the neurologist was a week ago, March 8th, to be exact. What I haven't mentioned, is that during that entire month-long lead-up to that appointment, I thought that the 8th was on a Tuesday. There are likely several reasons for this. First, I apparently never learned to decipher the enigma known as a "calendar." I mean, seriously, who knew that all of those numbers corresponded to the days of the week they're listed under? Truly a baffling system.
The second reason, is likely that when that appointment was made, I was half asleep. This was the morning that the ophthalmologist woke me up from what was, no doubt, an erotic dream (just speculation, on my part) to tell me that I most likely had MS, and that I would need to see a specialist to confirm that. What can I say? My mental facilities are generally not at their best, 45 seconds after waking up.
The third reason, is that the subsequent appointments that I made, were always on Tuesdays, as those were the easiest days for me to take off from work. Maybe my subconscious mind made some assumptions, based on the appointments that I made when I was fully awake, and decided that the 8th, must be a Tuesday.
Either way, the reason is not all that important. What becomes important, is my planning for that day. When I went back to work, I told my boss, that I had the appointment with the neurologist on Tuesday, March 8th. Granted, she also didn't know how to read a calendar, apparently, but again, that tidbit isn't particularly important either. Besides, she was not my personal assistant (whom I've since had to let go). It was not her job to make sure that I had my days/dates correct.
And so life carried on. I went to work, did my job, came home, and repeated the next day. About five days before my appointment, I was on the phone with my grandmother, talking about the upcoming appointment. She pointed out that the 8th was on Wednesday, and asked if I was sure about the date. As I have said, I was quite sure about the date, so I set about adjusting my plans, accordingly.
I told my boss that I had mixed up the days, and that my appointment was actually on Wednesday, so I would be coming in on Tuesday, and taking Wednesday off. The first thing out of her mouth was, "Who's going to do inventory?" I told her that my counterpart at the restaurant, the Executive Sous Chef, would do it. There was some back and forth via text message, at this point. One of the highlights of that exchange was when she told me that I needed a better plan, and that this was , "getting frustrating." Frustrating. No kidding, like being diagnosed with an incurable disease, I wonder?
I didn't think that him doing the inventory would be a big deal, as he and I had done countless inventories together. She didn't see it the same way, and started going in to a mild freak out. Now granted, my Sous wasn't as computer savvy as I am, but I was confident that if I went over inputting the numbers in to the Excel sheet with him, that he'd be fine. So that's what he and I did. And when I talked to my boss on Tuesday, she wanted me to enlist the help of one or two of my hourly employees to come in, and help him.
And here's where things started to go awry. One of my line cooks was among the people I wanted to bring in early, and he probably would have done it. The problem, is that I thought my Sous talked to him about it, and my Sous thought that I had talked to him about it. Additionally, of the other two employees I wanted to bring in early, one had a day job somewhere else, and the other wasn't inclined to come in as her hours had been cut recently, as a cost-saving measure. No pay, no play. I can certainly understand that, and wasn't inclined to try to compel her to come in. Still, I was confident my Sous would be fine, additionally, we did a partial inventory on Tuesday night. The restaurant was all stocked up, so the stuff that was left in our storage areas wasn't anything that we would need to get in to, before inventory was completed the following morning. The remaining items that we couldn't count Tuesday night, would take somewhere around 30-40 minutes to count in the morning. It was set up to be the fastest inventory we had ever done. I went over a few final things with my Sous, and also told him to email me a copy of the completed inventory, before he sent it to our bosses, so that I could make sure things were copacetic.
Wednesday arrived, and I went to the first of my two appointments that day. In addition to meeting with the neuro at 2:30 p.m., I had a 9:00 a.m. follow-up with my primary care physician. So I was in the office, talking to the GP, when my phone started blowing up. I ignored it the first few times, because, you know, I was in with my doctor. Finally, I answer, seeing that it's my boss. I am greeted with her screaming and cursing. I tell her that I couldn't really talk, as I was with my doctor. She replied that she didn't care, and continued her tirade. In response, I hung up, and turned my phone off. And it stayed off for several hours. I stopped by my mom's house after I left the VA, to let her know how things went.
When I finally turned it back on, I was sitting in my mom's living room, and there were a slew of nasty emails, text messages, and voice mails. I started with the emails first. Apparently, the inventory didn't go well. My boss said, among other things, that both my Sous and I would be written up, that I had to meet her at the shop at 8:30 a.m., and other less pleasant things. I told my mom that my boss was maneuvering to fire me. My company likes to have their paperwork in line before they fire someone, to have a strong position to deny any unemployment claims.
Based on the profanity-laced phone call, alone, I was already inclined to tell her to piss off. Both Danielle and my mom suggested that I take the night to calm down, and let my boss do likewise, and try to have a civil conversation in the morning. I wasn't completely sold on that idea. I'm generally a pretty easy-going guy, but I also have very little tolerance for blatant disrespect. I really don't care what your job title is, or how much money you make. I'm an adult, and will not tolerate being spoken to like that. Not to mention the fact that her behavior was completely unprofessional. And while I will acknowledge that hanging up on her, wasn't the most professional thing I could have done, I just have to point out, that she started it. So there.
Anyway, since that first phone call, I had been in contact with one of the partners in the company. He and I aren't best friends or anything, but I do like him and consider him a friend, and more importantly, I respect him. So, after I finished up at my mom's, I met with him, to talk about the day and to vent. I told him my theory about being fired, as well as everything that had happened, that day. After several hours of conversation, with him pretty much echoing what Danielle and my mom had said, I was feeling a lot more calm, and agreed that I would go in, the next morning, and bite my tongue.
So that's what I did. I got to work a little early, and saw my boss, who barely acknowledged me, and I didn't care. I went about getting the shop ready to open. At some point, I had to run downstairs to get something. When I came back up, my Sous told me that she was looking for me, so I stopped what I was doing, and went to find her. When I did, she told me that I was late (even though I had seen her fifteen minutes earlier). So we talked...and by "talked," I mean that she spent the next thirty minutes berating me, and telling me how little confidence she had in my ability to run the restaurant, and so on. Somehow, I managed to keep my mouth (and temper) in check. The short version of the events of the previous day, are as follows: First, the inventory was late being turned in, and in the wrong format. Next, the additional help for my Sous, never arrived (which I knew). After that, apparently, people were late coming in, so the restaurant wasn't perfect for opening. Sometime during service, the internet went down (which we couldn't have done anything about). I don't know, I was the general manager, and ultimately, everything that happens, falls on my shoulders.
She went on to go over some of my punishments, which included, having my bonus suspended indefinitely, having to be at the shop every day, from 9 a.m. to close, which is usually around 8:30 p.m....and also, incidentally means that my front of house supervisor, got his hours cut in half, as I usually had him close for me, a couple of nights a week. She concluded by asking me if I had anything to add. I said no, and she replied that "sorry" would have been nice. I did almost say something at that, but decided that as I'd made it through the meeting, I didn't need to poke the bear. So I kept my mouth shut, and went back and continued to get the shop ready to open.
My boss stuck around for a few hours, and before she left, told me that she had sent me an email that listed things that she felt, needed to be addressed. I was to respond to each individual line item, with a plan of action. I was just reviewing that email, and there were forty-eight bullet points, that I had to respond to. Additionally, in that one email, she threatened my job, no less than five times. Despite all of that, I made an honest attempt to get it done. My shop closes at 7 p.m. After my people finish cleaning , it's usually around 8 p.m., or so, and I usually leave around half an hour later. That night, I left at around 9:30 p.m, made my hour and change trek home, and still had several hours of work ahead of me. I was still slogging my way through that email, had to put together a schedule for the next week, and get some other paperwork done, as well. And the nasty emails kept coming, with each one reminding me that if I didn't get everything done, I would be written up and possibly fired.
At some point, I took a break to eat something, as I hadn't eaten all day, and all the while, I was getting increasingly angry. I didn't so much mind the "punishment" aspect. But the repeated threatening of my job, was getting under my skin. The fact that I recognized her tactics, for what they were, should have tempered my growing rage, but that only stoked the flames. At around 1:30 a.m., I'd had enough. It was readily apparently that I would never be able to satisfy her demands, and would subsequently be written up, and ultimately fired. Obviously, she couldn't fire me because of my condition, but let's face it, when you want to get rid of someone, you can find a reason, any reason, to make that happen. As I saw it, the writing was on the wall. So at that moment, I decided that I was done. Having been out of work for a few weeks, due to the hospitalization, and wacky vision before and after that, I certainly needed the money, but I'm still me. Maybe it's stubbornness, or maybe it's just the nature of who I am, or maybe it's just plain, old pride, but I figured that I had been doing this long enough, that, in theory at least, I could find something else pretty quickly.
Either way, having made that decision, the stress started melting away, almost instantly. I woke up early the next morning and drove to work. I left my laptop and access card, and walked away. Almost. I had written a resignation email, the night before. In it, I basically said the reason that I was quitting, in the manner that I was, was due to the way my boss had handled the situation, on her end. I acknowledged my short-comings, and apologized to the managers from the other restaurants, who got roped in to dealing with the mess on Wednesday (they were there for our weekly manager meeting), and I sent that email to EVERYONE in the company with an email address. That was my spite, coming out. I even got a few well-wishing responses, before my company email access was terminated. All-in-all, I don't like the way I left, but I feel like it was the right decision, and as I said, I felt at ease.
So now, I'm looking for something else, which I'm sure I'll find. It may not be my dream job, but it will be something. And like everything else I've experienced over the last few weeks, I will be taking it one day at a time.