Lots Going On!
4 hours ago
I have an employee...um, let me correct that. I had an employee that I had to let go. That is being nice. I fired her. Shame. She was a pretty good worker, too.This one is no relation to the one with a clamor of children, nor is it Boom-boom Mancini. (Are you really surprised I kept her?)
Anyhow, I should probably start from the beginning. I'm going to call her Gilberta because I don't know anyone by that name, nor would I want to. (No offense to any real Gilberta's out there. I'm thinking of Gilbert Godfrey here.)
Gilberta was the model employee. She was always in uniform. She was always at least half an hour early for her shift. She came in on short notice if someone else had flaked and was always willing to help out with some small task even if she wasn't on the clock. I could count on her to keep her eyes open for shoplifters and employee thefts. She got along with everyone and she was normally very friendly. The only problems I had ever encountered with Gilberta was that on rare occasion she hadn't been able to wash her clothes before her shift and her personal hygiene began to slack off for a few days as she was transferring from her stable home into a weekly apartment.
I always took into account the moves and the marital woes she was suffering and so gently reminded her of what needed to be changed and she always complied. When she requested a schedule shift so she could get some sleep in a bed, I happily cooperated. (A weekly apartment is not a very suitable place for a family of four to be living so sleeping in chairs or on the floor is sometimes a necessity.) I helped her out, in terms of work, as much as possible. Anything we could afford to give her, we did, including raises, loans, and overtime. My mother, The Saint, went even further by buying gross amounts of food at Costco and winter wear for the kids. Gilberta was worth it.
The employees have the ability to purchase items during the week and it is automatically removed from their check. We call it "putting it on my tab." In order to protect the store from employees that are 'tabbing' more than their check will be we have limits on 'putting things on your tab.' I, being management and the ever sneaky Libran diplomat usually says that the limits are so that you will actually have a check when it comes payday. It's not a lie. It may not be very much of a paycheck but at least you'll have some cash in your pocket, right? Every week, Gilberta always asked if she could go over 'on her tab.' I invariably said yes.
Gilberta is pretty typical of the women I see in my line of work. She has two great kids and a husband that can't seem to provide for his family. From what I've seen of him, and admittedly, it's not much, there seems to be nothing physically wrong with him, yet he never seems to be trying or helping. Excuses abound for why he doesn't many of which may be valid or not. She's too proud to ask for assistance and so bears the brunt of supporting a family of four on her meager paycheck from a convenience store.
My posted time for the distribution of paychecks is 3 pm. On paydays, Gilberta and her husband usually arrive at noon, just in case they are ready early, and if they are not, they will sit the three hours and wait. I feel so bad that sometimes I rush to get the checks processed and so occasionally will forget to deduct any loans or to check them thoroughly for the correct tab purchase amounts, resulting in recalling everyone to let them know.
A few days ago in the morning, while sifting through receipts I found a tightly taped note from another employee that said, "Gilberta drank a Rockstar without paying for it around 9 pm. I think she drank more than one." A Rockstar is a very popular energy drink and costs like two bucks. I sigh deeply and put the note aside to check the video later. Eating and drinking items and not paying for them is what we call 'grazing.' It's pretty prevalent in our world. I guess it would be kind of like taking a box of staples home from your office job. I presume you can get tired of all the free fountain soda, slushees, and coffee you can drink and the allowable amount of grill items you can eat per shift that sometimes you just need a Rockstar. Whatever. Not a fire-able offense, right?
After finishing all the paperwork, refreshing my exquisitely delicious caramel machiatto with a spritz of sugar free vanilla and cinnamon and nutmeg sprinklings (I LOVE our coffee bar!), and stretching my legs, I settle in to watch some security videos. It's digital, so it's super easy to point, click, search, and save. Immediately, I find the video of what I need to see. *Gasp!* It's not just a Rockstar. It's a Rockstar 21. *Gasp* again! Rockstar 21 is an alcoholic beverage. She's not just grazing; she's grazing drunk.
On a hunch, I click back a few hours and let the video play. It's not just ONE Rockstar 21. It's seven. S-E-V-E-N!!! That's almost one per hour. Hunch still niggling has me clicking back on the day before. Four. I check the day before that. Five. Oh! My! God! I am Jack's dumbfounded mother. I call the other manager into the office (that would be my mom.) I show her the video. I layout the totals I have so far. She asks me what I want to do. "We have to let her go," I said. "She's drinking on shift, which means we can lose our liquor license, and who knows what else she's doing. She could get hurt, she could be giving back the wrong change in her drunken stupor, she could be robbing us blind." My mom agrees and we decide to do so the next day. Payday, the last day of the pay period.
I spend the rest of the day watching two weeks of video, snapshooting or saving the video bits I need, and getting fed and FICA numbers from payroll. It's a late day. The next morning I have an interview with a replacement set up by my mom. She looks good. I hire her. Gilberta is due in at noon. I have a few hours to get the paperwork done and get her paycheck ready to go.
Gilberta and husband arrive at 11am. Crap. I'm not ready. I haven't psyched myself up for this part of the job. I don't have my game face on yet. I am caught unawares. Crap! Crap! Crap! Thankfully, I get a customer who wants multiple servings off the grill. I can utilize bun-spreading time to prep. Whew. The dogs are sold and I think I'm ready, so I call my mom to cover the register and I head into the office. I ask Gilberta to pull up a chair.
My clerks all seem to know that if I ask them to pull up a chair we're heading for a counseling session of some sort. She says, "What did I do?" in a playful voice. I don't smile. I'm in the game.
She takes a seat and immediately I say, "Gilberta, we're going to have to let you go."
"I know why," she replies coolly, almost whispering. I nod silently.
"It's because of the box I took out of the cooler."
Box? What box? A whole box? I feign knowledge. "That too." I say calmly.
"And the Rockstar," she says.
Playing the hunch again, I say, "And that too." I look directly at her.
"I swear I never took more than $2.50 for the bus most days. I was going to pay it back."
And then the pleading begins. She says she is a good employee. I agree. That's why this was hard. She can't afford to lose her job; she has kids. Another reason this is hard but she should have thought of that before she did what she did. It will never happen again, she was just under a lot of stress. How can I trust that? Her problems at home and otherwise still exist. She can stop the drinking on the job; she had been quit for 21 years. It's not just that.
And then the elongated shrill of "Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeease?" echoes through the back of the store. She physically gets on her knees at my feet. Tears are streaming from her eyes. Her breath is in short hiccupped bursts. "Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeease, Erma, Pleeeeeeease. I swear on the life of my child none of it will ever happen again."
Why do people do that? Why do people swear on the life of someone else? Whether living or dead? Giving an oath is not a casual thing. You can't say "I swear" and think there will be no repercussions for not living up to it. I have never understood how people can speak those words so casually.
I am so uncomfortable at this point. In all my years of hiring and firing, I've never experienced anyone on their knees before. I pull out my ace in the hole; or so I thought. "Look, this is not just my decision. This comes from my mom and from Don. There's nothing I can do for you." Again the pleading resounds through the entirely too small office. She begs to talk to my mom about it. "Is that really fair, Gilberta? You screwed up. There are consequences for that. You don't need to talk to my mom. (Feel the force.) You understand fully this is what needs to be. (My fingers imperceptibly wave from left to right under the desk.) Come on, let's go get your check."
The force was not with me that day. Crap. I got up to move past her and she grabs my arm. That shrill cry is again deafening to my ears. She asks to talk to my mom again. I give in. "Alright, alright, I'll ask her to come talk to you." I go out front and let my mom know what's going on. I warn her and suggest she not go too far back into the back area or she'll get trapped. I try to help in boosting her resolve. She disappears into the back and returns in just over a minute. She hands me the phone and tells me to dial Don's number. She plans on calling the big boss. This is good, I think. He's not here. He'll say "No!" over the phone and we'll be done. Good plan.
Bad plan. My mom hands the phone to Gilberta. Both of us are confident that Don will have our back. Gilberta hands the phone right back to my mom and then after a very brief conversation she hangs up. My mom says, "Don said its up to us." I just stare at her for a moment unbelieving.
"What do you want to do?" I look at her expectantly. She hurtles every ball to my side of the court with a single movement. She shrugs her shoulders. Crap. I fix my determination to end this now and lead Gilberta back to the office. The pleading starts up as soon as we cross the threshold. I have her sit while I stand. She gets down on her knees again. She cries that she has kids to feed. She cries that she can't depend on her husband and that he'll be mad at her. She cries that she'll never, ever, EVER do it again, any of it.
I give in. I'm such a shmuck. Pansy-assed shmuck.
She works the next day, Friday, but only to put away the groceries and then I schedule her off for two days. Don comes in the next morning and he's not happy. I counter with, "You would have done the same thing if she was crying at your feet. All you had to do to finish it was say no." Of course, all I had to do to finish it was say no. All my mom had to do to finish it was to say no. What a team we make, eh?
Now I have to figure out what to do with the new girl that I hired. She was supposed to be the replacement. Now I have no one to replace and payroll is already stretched to its limit. I put her in for three days of training, at the least. I'm sure I can figure something out.
Saturday morning is a good morning. I have plans for the day, church fundraiser in the evening and well, I just woke up in a really good mood. And then I got to work. While putting away the groceries Friday night, Gilberta purchased a bottle of bright blue Boonesfarm wine, the kind teenagers get drunk on at the parties they frequent with all their teenage friends. It was only an hour into her shift. I forward the video to see what she does with it. She's off camera. I switch to when she's leaving for the night to see if it is in her bag. The bag is empty as she packs it with food she has put on her tab. I am Jack's disappointed heart. I fired her for good yesterday.
I assume I'm the worst kind of boss to have. I'm the kind that wants to be understanding and helpful instead of tyrannical and uncompassionate. I ask questions like "What can I do as a boss to make the job smoother for you so you can execute better?" or "Is something going on at home that's affecting your performance at work? Do you need some time off?"
Perhaps I need to change that.
I'm one of those people that do well with instructions. Tell me what to do and I'll do it. If I have questions, I ask. At first I gathered everyone was like this. This is not so. Through the years I've tried many methods of being a boss. The understanding way seems to work so much better. But, I also know that some people need the hard road. I see that all the time, too. People hate their boss, but man, they sure can get their work done. Sometimes I think I should be that way. Maybe I wouldn't get walked all over as much. Maybe my compassion wouldn't be mistaken for softness.
I've been told that my attitude, at times, seems condescending. My belief is that one only sees it as condescending if you already have the expectation that no one, especially a boss, could be a nice person. This convenience business that I am in is really easy. The hardest part is dealing with the public. People come in for Gatorade to quench a hard days work. They come in for cigarettes so they can deal with visiting family members. They come in for candy to reward or quiet their kids. They come in for beer to escape their rough day. They come in for all reasons and in all moods and you have to adjust accordingly. The rest of the job is cake. You do a little cleaning. You do a little stocking. You take in money and count back change. The most real thinking you have to do for the job is figuring out if you're over or short for the day and that only involves the most basic of mathematics. We even provide the calculators. If you're on time, in uniform, and ready to work, you and I will get along great. Otherwise, I may have to ask you to take a chair, young padawan.
originally posted Tuesday, February 12, 2008
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Sociable
Heartbreaking tale, E., even though have never been on the management side of the table in such instances.
Appreciate you at least trying to be compassionate. Considering the kind of town and state in which we live and the general lack of compassion or mercy, I commend you for it.
Sometimes, alas, one can only do so much. That is one of the saddest truths that have had to learn.
Bless you for trying, though.
I know this is just a small exsample of what you deal with concerning your employees. Hopefully things improve for you.
All My Love and Devotion
Mike
Wow. That is definitely heartbreaking to hear. Those sorts of things happen. When I was the assistant manager at a retail store, I was given the task of terminating employees. My boss, the manager, did not like to have to let people go. She would leave it up to me. It could be a hard thing to do when I really liked someone and had tried to help them out as much as possible.
Oh yeah. I just did a post about when I plan to return to blogging. I hope you'll check it out. Thanks.