I've made a career out of being fired. I make it look easy. People are often amazed by the sheer amount of jobs I've occupied and been asked to vacate immediately. It's difficult to keep track of, so I thought I would compile a list of the firing highlights chronologically:
1) Wicks N Sticks candle store. Nashua NH. Cashier
Reason: My first job ever. I was let go shortly after Christmas being told that I was strictly seasonal help. Working there since June, I was unaware of this entirely.
2) KB Toys Store. Nashua, NH. Cashier.
Reason: Do you know how when you are on vacation you lose all track of the date? The time when you become entirely oblivious as to what time and day of the week it is? Once you stop adhering to a schedule, the concept of time ceases to be. As it was with me in the Spring of 1996 in which I worked at KB Toys. Priding myself on my responsibility, I started working early at the age of 16 as soon as I got my junior operator's driver's license. Over my school's April vacation I continued to work at this job located in a nearby mall. However, when not at work I mostly hibernated in my bed while watching Golden Girls reruns. Because of this, I was completely unaware of the little phenomenon that we archaically celebrate called "Daylight Savings Time." I strolled into work an hour late when I thought I was precisely on time. The manager greeted me with a scowl and asked to see me in the stockroom where she unspooled. I made her an hour late for a lunch appointment because I deigned not to show up for my shift on time and she couldn't leave the register. I was shocked at the accusation and pointed to my calculator watch—1:00 on the nose, what was she talking about?
"Daylight Savings Time was 4 days ago." She spat.
Oh. Why doesn't anyone tell me these things? I suppose I should have figured it out after my Golden Girls lineup seemed all out of wack.
"I'm writing you up." She barked.
"What does that mean?" I inquired
"It means we have something in writing stating that you were tardy and it goes to the corporate office on your permanent record. If you get another write-up you won't be eligible for promotions and after 3 write-ups you can be let go."
"I'm sorry I was late, I really didn't know that it was daylight savings."
"I don't believe you." She replied, scribbling furiously on a form letter. "And even if I did, this is the company's policy."
"I don't really care if you believe me or not. It's the truth. I've worked here for almost a year and never been late. Do you really think I would stroll in an hour late one day just because?"
Ignoring me, she passed the form and pen to me, "You need to sign at the bottom where it says 'reprimanded employee.'"
"I most certainly will not." I replied, refusing to take the pen.
"If you don't sign this, it is grounds for termination." Her voice, full of ice.
"I thought that wasn't until the third write-up." I said smugly.
"Ha ha. Sign it." She urged.
"No."
"You have to." She growled staring into my eyes.
"I don't." Returning her Medusa gaze.
"Then get out!" She shouted suddenly.
"Fine! I hope you NEVER get to eat your lunch!" I shrieked, plowing through the revolving Staff Only door and out into the store.
"Fuck YOU!" She screamed after me, her shout echoing throughout the Pokemon, parent, and child-filled aisles.
It's a shame nobody was there to write her crazy ass up.
3) Sweets From Heaven candy store. Nashua, NH. Cashier.
Reason: The store was taken over by a Pakistani family and they didn't think I was a good fit, so they "hired" their 12-year old boy to cashier instead.
4) Lily's on the Pond Restaurant. Rindge, NH. Waiter.
Reason: Got into it with the bartender/co-owner one night when she was PMSing. We had a very rocky relationship from day one when I came in for my first waitstaff shift and she told me my dinosaur tie was inappropriate for a fine dining restaurant. I told her it was inappropriate to refer to the place as a fine dining restaurant since people wore full body aprons and sneakers. Our relationship continued to decline when I started taking smoke breaks like everybody else did, even though I have never smoked in my life. When I needed a break, I would just step outside and pretend to smoke. I carried a lighter and an empty pack of cigarettes in case anybody needed proof. If they needed a light, I gave them my lighter. If they needed a cigarette, oh sorry, I just smoked the last one. Empty. See? A heavy smoker, we would often cross paths outside and she would watch me like a hawk. I'd pretend to get a phone call or chew gum or anything else to get out of actually smoking a cigarette. Sometimes she would even offer me one and I'd have to come up with an excuse to refuse. One day she caught on and confronted me.
"You really shouldnt pretend to smoke just to take a break. It's not fair to the other employees." She said, taking a drag from her cigarette.
"You really shouldn't smoke when you're trying to have a baby." I replied, knowing she and her husband had been trying for 6 months now and everyday I got to hear about their exploits.
"I'm going to quit before the first trimester." She said defensively. "Besides it's none of your business."
"You make it my business when you tell everyone, including me, all about it."
"Fine. It saves me the chore of having to talk to you." She quipped.
After our chat, we didnt wind up on the schedule for any shifts together for a few months. The next time I saw her was because we were both called in to work a wedding reception. She was starting to show, and moodier than ever. I congratulated her and was met with a stare and silence. Taking the hint, I went about my work. Towards the end of the evening I went to the bar to grab a tray of drinks I had ordered and as I was walking away with the tray, she leaned over the bar and grabbed the back of my shirt, causing my to drop the entire tray onto the floor. Broken glass and wet clothing abound.
"What the hell is your problem?" I yelled.
"You didn't stab your drink slip." She yelled back.
"So?"
"If it doesn't get stabbed, then it just sits there and I accidentally make the order again."
"Then stab it. my hands were full!"
"Your hands aren't full now."
"I'll stab something alright!" I growled, and walked away to wash up.
I was let go promptly after the wedding.
5) NK Graphics, Keene, NH. Design Intern
Reason: A mandatory graphic design internship brought me to this place, and a mandatory internship would be the only thing to get me back there. Dull, drab, and dreary the office felt like a mausoleum, especially during the night shift when I worked because of my class schedule. I stuck out the 280 hours required of me, even after at about hour 200, my 40-something supervisor asked me to dinner in a hushed whisper. Dumb struck, I just stared blankly ahead with my mouth open. He told me not to worry, that even if I had hemorrhoids, they were just pleasurable speed bumps. Enough said.
6) Staples, Inc. Framingham, MA. Graphic Designer
Reason: Was told that personality-wise, I was a great fit, however my creativity was too much for the Staples brand to handle.
7) Whistling Swan Restaurant. Sturbridge, MA. Host
Reason: Asked for a raise up to $10/hour from my $8/hour. Was denied and promptly released from their employ.
8) Blue Water Grill Restaurant. New York, NY. Host
Reason: After my training was completed, was told I was a good employee and that their sister restaurant, Ocean Grill needed me more then they did.
9) Ocean Grill. New York, NY. Host
Reason: Was fired for not serving alcohol to a minor who happened to be a celebrity. Celebrities are exempt from our silly little laws you see.
10) Serendipity. New York, NY. Host
Reason: Perhaps my favorite firing because it caused the biggest scene. Let me give you some background information about this place. It is run by this wretched old shrew, Xandra. The first shift I shared with Xandra, she told me not to speak unless absolutely necessary because my Boston accent was off-putting. I could have lambasted her for this alone, but I held my tongue. Next shift she told me my pants were too baggy and that I should go home and change. I looked at her wrinkled blouse and windblown gray hair barely contained beneath a faded Yankees hat. "This isn't the East Village. This is Midtown." She said. I replied that I didn't know what the hell she was talking about. She scowled and said I didn't fit in and should go back to New Hampshire. Again, I held my tongue. Our Third shift together, shit got real.
A normal restaurant will number all of their tables. Serendipity thinks giving each of their 117 tables a name is the way to go. Table 11 is not Table 11. Table 11 is Marilyn. Why? Because Marilyn Monroe once sat there. Table 29 is Rose. Why? The owner likes roses. Excellent.
Lunch rush hit. There was a 45-minute wait, and the phone was ringing off the hook. I wasn't allowed to answer it lest my accent be discovered. Xandra flings some menus at me and instructs me to seat the next party of 4 at Steven. I nod, motion mutely for the people to follow me, and lead them to Steven. I come back and lead the next party to Crystal. Then Naomi. Tori. Vincent. No sooner do I seat Vincent when Xandra comes storming up to me in her frumpy skirt, bra-less shirt, sequened sandals, and a Yankees cap.
"Why did you seat a party of 4 at Steven?!" She barks—not even attempting decorum in the middle of the packed restaurant.
"Am I permitted to respond, your highness?" I ask sweetly.
"Steven is reserved for the President of 20th Century Fox! Now we have to seat him somewhere else!"
"You told me to seat the next party of 4 at Steven. That's what I did."
"No I said Kevin!" She yells—turning more and more heads in our direction. "You're not very bright are you? Do you even want to work here?"
"Is that a trick question?" I ask.
"That's it! You're out!" She stomps over to a cash register, thumbs through some twenty dollar bills and throws them at me. "Take your money and leave!"
"I will!" I shout, scrounging around on the floor, picking up my hard-earned sheckles while everyone in the restaurant looks on. A customer leans down and hands me a bill from under his table.
In a Carrie-like blood rage I stomp towards Xandra, and the exit, foaming at the mouth. She sees the fury in my eyes and backs up a step. Not far enough. I reach out, snatch her Yankees hat off her head and throw it down on the floor with extreme prejudice. "YANKEES FUCKING SUCK!!!" I shriek and stomp on it.
"GET OUT! You're BANNED! BANNED!" She screams at my back as I run to the exit.
"You couldn't PAY me to come back to this dump!" I turn around and face everyone seated at their tables, staring open-mouthed. "THEY PICK THE BROWN AND BLACK BITS OFF THEIR SALAD GREENS!" I warn and exit the restaurant forever.
I wonder if there's a job waiting for me at 20th Century Fox.
11) The Big Cup coffee shop. New York, NY. Barista.
Reason: I lasted 3 weeks at Manhattan's gay premeire coffee shop in Chelsea. I was fired for being too slow in making a customer's double-espresso half-caf macchioato-chino. The only real surpise here is that I wasn't fired sooner. Not being a coffee drinker or a particularly good listener, when people ordered extravaggant menu items such as this or maybe a soy chai latte-chino I would usually give them a cup of coffee with a whole milk foam on top.
12) Pink Pages. Boston, MA. Graphic Designer.
Reason: Mary, the beast of a lesbian owner, didn't like me from the start. But her designer quit suddenly and I was the only person who would work for $10/hour. She made it clear that I worked too slowly, dressed too nicely, my hair was too long, and was too friendly with my coworkers.
"Coworkers are a distraction. I'm paying you to work, not pick up tricks." She used to grunt, implying that not only was I not doing my job, but that I was also a whore.
Needless to say, I let my mouth fly back at her at every opportunity and got myself fired after 6 months. We are now currently feuding over my unemployment claim.
