Though it sounds too odd to be true, the incident I am about to describe happened exactly as I describe it to the most minute detail. No suspense -- the story ends with my being unemployed and with my "career," such as it was, in tatters.
You know the old saying, "You'll never work in this town again?" For me it's "You'll never work in this industry, in the entire world again." And it's all because of not having union protection.
This is the story of how a corporate king destroys lives with a wave of his hand and without the slightest pang of conscience.
(details on the flip)
When I set out to write this, I was not going to name names because of the powerful interests involved. I'm not going to name names, but you'll easily discern the company from the obvious clues. I hope you'll never patronize this company and will tell all your friends how badly they suck. Professionally and financially, I'm as good as dead already, so I don't really care if I get any further into their bad graces.
This company is a global chain of hotels and resorts built and run on cheap, non-union labor. The original "Mr. M" deserves some respect for turning a sandwich shop into a profitable global enterprise. As for the rest of them -- especially the great grandkids -- to Hell with 'em. They've never worked an honest day in their lives as far as I'm concerned. They go from hotel to hotel and get their asses kissed. That's pretty much what they do.
I had the "privilege" of kissing one of the "M's" asses last week. Unfortunately for me, I'm not well versed in bowing before the king, kissing his ring and hoping he moves on before finding fault with me. There I was, standing erect at my station -- which had been polished to a blinding sheen -- my tie straight, my breath fresh, not a hair out of place. "Mr. M" approached, looked at my name tag, addressed me by name, shook my hand (What a pathetic excuse for a hand that man has, soft as whispy as silk! Pathetic! What kind of man allows himself to become so weak! I could have crushed him between my index finger and thumb.) and asked me how it was going.
OK, I admit it: I was an idiot. I should have simply said, "Fine, sir. Thank you," and let him go on his completely oblivious way. (Yes, oblivious -- he has no idea what goes on day-to-day because everything is scrubbed and made pretty everywhere he goes. This is no way to run a business, and if I ever run a business, I will encourage my employees to criticize and make suggestions. You don't improve without knowing what's going on in the trenches, without going through a little pain. Besides that, it would be good for morale -- and productivity -- to give workers a voice.)
Anyway, I answer his query: "Wonderful, sir! I'm on hardship duty today." The subtext was, "What a great job! This is as bad as it gets for me." He took it as, "It's a pain in the ass to meet you," apparently.
He actually chuckled and asked, "What do you mean?"
I explained that this particular station was not particularly profitable for us (I was in sales) so we jokingly called it hardship duty. How lucky I was that hanging out in this beautiful hotel on the East Side was as bad as it got for me!
Oddly enough, I thought it had gone well. He smiled, thanked me for my time, and moved on.
What I did sort of notice out of the corner of my eye was that the coterie of suckups that constitute his constant entourage seemed horrified. These are VPs, hotel managers -- people pretty high up and hoping to climb higher. I actually don't think that it was "Mr. M" who got me fired -- I think it was his sycophants.
Anyway, long story short, two days later my immediate supervisor calls me into his office and fires me for "unprofessional conduct." Bam. Just like that. Oh, sure, I could have appealed, but what chance did I stand with five VPs and managers and the like all thinking I'm a big jerk?
Had I been a member of a union, I'm pretty sure I'd still have a job today. My performance was good. I had never been disciplined, warned, written up. In fact, I made millions of dollars for the company. I am quite sure that I contributed more value than any of the assholes who follow "Mr. M" around, hoping to get in his good graces.
That's why we need unions in a nutshell -- because the little guy doesn't stand a chance against the bosses unless he is united with all the other little guys.
The bright side is that now I'm pretty much forced to pursue other things that are probably better.
It still pisses me off, though.