The Mighty Do Fall

Once in awhile you discover something that lets you know there is payback in the universe. I discovered this photo of David Foote. You know the guy who is in every office, who is so arrogant he has no need to work with other people, other departments. But for some reason management likes this guy and he gets ahead. Then one day, whoosh, your fairy godmother abandons  you and he’s your manager. Not only arrogant, but sexist and thinks he is soooo funny with his corny jokes that make people smile only because of his position.

Well suddenly he leaves the VP position and goes to head up Wealth Management Region at another bank. Not really a step up, something went awry. A smaller bank, headquartered in Texas, and you get a region, not a division. Then a couple years pass and he is a Manager at a United Way office in central Florida. Whoa – now that is truly a big change.

Know the term Schadenfreude? It applies here, my joy at seeing him go down. He is only in his mid 50’s, hardly time your career ends.

Maybe there is a good reason he moved to Florida. But not even with a bank after his job experience. No coming bank up to Senior Bank V.P. from here. And he works with a lot o females. Wonder if he has them take notes and get coffee? Would he dare ask that of the Chairperson? Especially in his position?

Let me gloat some more… I like it. He was too arrogant and let’s think it caught up with him.

Colleague Bob

He joined the department with the assistance of a guardian angel; they created a position for him and bypassed many of us with solid experience. Wasn’t deemed necessary for him to have the expertise that was so vital for the extremely detailed, regulated work we did with Documentary Credits, aka Letters of Credit.
I covered territory out state, away from main office. It was great – I could take the position I created and soar! Part of what I did was to arrange customer and prospect calls for the big guns from Main Office; get top level experts for big clients, impress them and get big accounts. Bob was one of those guys.
I managed to get an appointment for us with Whirlpool. Yes, that company. Got us in to explain some rule changes that would affect their export shipping area. It was to be a nice show, with a computer and projections and handouts. Did the presentation with Bob before hand, or rather did all the work, tried to get his input, and put together the show. It was his show – he presented, I’m a local contact.
Now Bob was coming from main office the day before and staying over night. I planned to meet him for breakfast and we’d drive over to the headquarters – their headquarters, the big house! A couple days before Bob calls me and whines that I should come down the night before because he want to be all alone at the hotel. This is an adult, a business contact whining about how he doesn’t want to have to stay there all alone. Come on! Put on your big boy pants.
Now I travelled out of town over night I had to kennel my dogs or get the pet sitter in at additional cost to me. Just to babysit Bob?!? It was less than a 90 minute drive for me. Made no sense and I didn’t want to go through the whole kennel thing, you know night before, extra day, make last minute reservation, blah, blah blah to babysit little Bob.
Got that settled so the morning of the meeting we meet for breakfast at his hotel Of course with Bob discussions were never about business. He is a fun guy, but we have work to do. Now we’re sitting in the reception area at Whirlpool. Clearly Bob is mulling things over; he does that annoying lip smacking thing and I know something is up. He says to me, “Why don’t you read the overheads? I don’t want to have to use my glasses.”
My initial thought is ‘You’re such a limp dick’, but sometimes I do manage to stop thoughts before they pass my lips. Instead I have a valid excuse: new contacts. Since I know I didn’t have the task of reading, I used this opportunity to work on breaking them in (never did adjust to them); I have a problem getting them to rotate so I can see clearly, especially to read.
Okay, he can’t get out of it. We get into the meeting room, everyone assembled, niceties over, and presentation gets going. Bob has reading glasses and through the whole thing he fumbles them on and off, and on, and laughs, and off and on again. Generally bumbling through. We are a super regional bank; is this how big bank experts handle themselves?
Getting past the halfway point, the end just might be in sight. All of a sudden Bob says “I need to use the restroom.” They direct him and he goes out the door. Mind you, we are on a normal office floor, didn’t look too complicated as we walked through the work area to the meeting room. I make chitchat with the Whirlpool staff, and we wait. Time passes, I’m busy coming up with things to talk about to fill this unexpected pause. Words come out of my mouth but I’m thinking ‘where the fuck did he go!’ Then Bob enters, laughing and havin’ a good time. He got lost. Couldn’t find his way back! I’m gonna die! This is the guy I’m counting on to work to get them to direct business to us. I can’t make fee agreements. I can’t make staff commitments.
Finally the presentation is done. Time for questions. Close to lunch so naturally we talk about going out somewhere for lunch. They ask Bob to join us. His reply to this invite from Whirlpool is: “I have to get back because I’m going snowmobiling up north.”
Yet he outranked me, made more money and down the road got a nice retirement plan when First Chicago bought the bank.

Highly Trained Starbucks Baristas

Then there is Eric. Attending local community college because his mother is paying. Maybe she is paying to get him out of the house. Can she really be so delusional to think that he is getting an education.
I once asked him how his final were going. I was also desperately looking for some topic of commonality, where I might get an actual dialogue going. Does an exchange of more than three sentences count as a dialogue?
Eric told me his art in the community class wasn’t having any final. The students did so poorly on the mid the teacher decided to give them a take home final. What!!!! These kids don’t crack open a book, don’t prepare for class, hardly show up for class. So if you get your name on the roster and don’t drop out you pass, right?
That’s pretty much how is works at Davenport College (oh, now they are a university, supposedly). You can’t expect the students to read anything, plagiarism is okay, and just move them along because it is all about money. Learning something is incidental.
Back to Eric. He devoted himself to drugs and alcohol. Oh yes, he worked hard on developing his gay relationships. Freshman year behind him, when asked, he said his major was Liberal Arts. I pushed to try to find out what particular subject he was focused on. (I didn’t want to outright call him an idiot – these guys cry easily.) “Uh, my advisor told me it’s liberal arts.”
Okay. And you are having problems just getting the basics out of the way.
Eric was a pretty good espresso bar person, if you didn’t mind the mess. He was extremely messy with unwashed pictures filling the counter, steamed milk overflowing everywhere, syrup drips all over, hand sink crowed with milk jugs. And it’s not like he was so busy – he always functioned this way, even when it was deadly slow.
I particularly liked the way he constantly fussed with his hair and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. Either allergies or drug abuse. Never used that hand sink. Just kept working. Ah, what a tasty beverage.
And take a few shots of espresso to get you going ’cause you were out drinking again and didn’t get any sleep. It’s your personal espresso bar, right?

Checking References At The Door

You ever get someone a job and it didn’t turn out well for you?
I got a phone call once at work from the HR representative of a local company. I was given as a reference by a prospective hire. She told me the name of the person and asked the usual stuff. The really awful part was that I drew a complete blank on this person! I couldn’t remember her, the name meant nothing; she had given me as a reference! The call was so unexpected that I couldn’t even fake a reference. I told the HR woman that I’m sorry but I don’t recall who this person is. Think she got the job?
It was only days later when I finally recalled who this was. The woman was a business contact. I met her explaining international financial services as part of my job. I’m sure we got along splendidly in the business meeting, as I tried so hard to do with all my clients – I was an account manager.
But you need to give a heads-up to people if you plan to use them as a reference. Better yet, ASK if you can use their name. I’ve told people no, because I just didn’t know them well enough.
And then there was Nathan. He worked in a nearby department at the bank. We became casual friends. I got to know him before his surprise engagement. Surprise? Yes, I thought he was gay! At any rate that engagement fell through (no surprise) and our friendship continued.
I left the bank, contact with Nathan waned. He called me one day to tell me he was applying for a job in the mortgage dept. of the bank where I worked. Could he use me as a reference. I agreed; he was competent and a good worker, I felt.
It is never flattering for people you thought were friends to stop contacting you UNTIL they need a job. Then they remember you and your title.
Nathan got the job. I was very busy and couldn’t check up on him so a bit of time elapsed until I found myself wondering how he was doing. I tried to call him at work only to find out he had quit shortly after starting – without so much as a word to me! What a heel. And yes, I was contacted before they hired him.
Then there is Alan…oh yes, Alan turned out a bitter experience indeed. We worked together early in my career at a big, regional bank before all the merger frenzy started. He was rather obnoxious and thought way too much of himself, personally and professionally. His own staff felt the same way and so did his business contacts. But to hear him talk, his staff owed absolutely every thing to his foresight and benevolence.
But in the controlled environment of our paternalistic department head, everyone, including myself, was kept in check. He kept our work family from becoming too dysfunctional.
The years went by, bank employers changed, our ways parted, we lost contact. That is until Mr. Flint was again out of a job and desperate for work. It was his third,or fourth, job since we worked together. Now Chase Bank cut him and job prospects in Texas were grim.
He hunted me down and needed a job. Well, to my misfortune we had an opening. He applied. He was rejected. The manager found him creepy. He kept calling me, pleading. Not only did he call me at work, he had the audacity to look up my home phone number and started bothering me there!
I tried to be nice and didn’t tell him that he repelled the manager. The position stayed open, managers changed, he tried again. The new one didn’t like him either, found him arrogant. Alan cried on the phone asking me to help him. It was pitiful.
I did think Alan knew his technical stuff. So his personality was a bit off and he looked wierd with the shock of white hair on top of a 6 foot plus frame; add to that the Bugs Bunny teeth. And in the constantly changing environment of banking wouldn’t it be nice to have a former colleague to work with?
They interviewed him once more. Had their doubts still, but were desperate for increased body count. Theory was more people hired, the more revenue produced (a fallacy). Came down to my being asked if I really thought they should hire him. Had I said no, there was another candidate waiting. I said yes.
Once he moved to Michigan I found out he had changed, or that I never really knew him. He lied about moving his family here; his wife moved to another state to take a teaching job and took the kids. He was an alcoholic; had him over for dinner and he finished off a 6-pack in less than 3 hours. He was the co-worker from hell. He stole my clients, disregarded my territory. He went behind my back working my teams. He manipulated the bank to send him to China on a worthless trip (I could have told them that).
And he never, ever thanked me for getting him the job. I hope for Karma. Alan once told me few real friends were there to help him. Wonder why. By now there are certainly a lot fewer.

Ethics and Starbucks – Saga Cont’d

The check hasn’t arrived in the mail. Yet. Could they have lied to me yet once again? An outrage. What takes so bloody long to get something mailed April 21st. Unless once again it wasn’t really mailed until a few days later. Hope that silly mingebox didn’t use the same mail box she lost the last one in.

Starbucks Pays Up

I will be receiving my tips. The chipper little girl at the Partnerline called me to let me know. As typical of her generation (yeah, I’m making a judgement call about her age based on her speech and voice and position) it was very hard to clarify to her that the address used in early March was valid – I did not move until the end of March. Anyway, I have mail forwarding. Little Cary seems convinced that I am at fault haven’t been so inconsiderate as to move and lose my mail. No you silly bitch – the manager sent the funds by cash! Regular mail. She is a silly bitch too. Stop trying to find a reason that I did something wrong. Well, I did get fired but considering the level of dysfunction among the ADD and alcoholic coworkers (and high maintainence clients) I don’t consider it a fault on my behalf. Yeah, I never really bought in to the Starbucks as an experience concept.

What’s Happening to American Workers

If you think you have it bad in these times, just talk to someone else. Here is an experience from a friend of mine at Priceline Call Center:

We just had a boat load of newbies released to the floor, oh my they are still wide-eyed and bushy-tailed and so eager to please, their voices brimming with excitement (in the false belief that they might be able to help their customers). My new neighbor Nancy (the one with the ambulance incident) and I keep laughing, we wonder who long this excitement will last. She told me last week that our team lead Roger (the author of the notorious e-mail) put her through hell a view weeks ago. She is supposedly “a rebellious” character and “insubordinate” (she unknowingly stepped on the big ego of this little freak). No wonder she ended up in the ER. Stress at work, crap going on at home, on top of it she’s on some mild form of Prozac. She’s living in constant fear to get fired, she’s the sole bread-winner. Looks like compared with that I do actually have a fantastic life!

What has happened to workers in America? Why do these same workers belittle European countries, as socialist – buzzword for communist – because their workers don’t just live to work, but have real lives with vacations, healthcare and job security unlike anything in the U.S.

Ethics and Starbucks

Yes, once they were a model company for their treatment of employees and for providing medical benefits to part-time employees. Now they are a mega corporation struggling with an economic depression, personnel problems typical of mega corporations, and no longer a media darling.
Right now my specific problem is that when I parted ways with Starbucks I asked the Store Manager to send me my tips. She heartedly agreed! Such a good Starbucks employee – never say no! I waited a week for the money along with my last pay statement. Alas, no gifts came in the mail. I contacted her, giving her the benefit of the doubt – too busy perhaps. No, she sent them out three days later than promised, but mailed.
Waited a bit longer. Still nothing. When I called her found out she sent CASH! In the mail! And she adds that she checked and found out my paycheck hadn’t been cashed. What paycheck? It was a pay statement and direct deposited. Who are these people and why are they in charge of anything.
I also contact her District Manager by text message asking that he help her resolve the situation. Of course I get no reply, so typical of her, more evidence of the new way they now treat employees. Store Manager tells me the DM is unhappy with her for sending cash and not using certified mail. She says she is not sure of where to get the money to pay me my tips.
Time passes I hear nothing. I contact the help line. This is so wrong; bad enough I’m taxed on more tip income than I ever actually receive, but now I don’t even get the tips. Granted the money isn’t much but I abhor stupidity.
From the third-party confidential help line I get a call from Partner Resources. In a nutshell, the DM states they are not responsible for my tips. But Partner Resources will work with him to see if they can resolve this.
Okay asshole DM what you are responsible for is that the Manager should never touch tips. You have no proof she ever mailed it. And you are responsible for agreeing to do something. Write the bitch up. Go ahead and check the tip slip – verify that I signed for my tips. I dare you.
Yeah, it’s only a fucking $28 or so.
This is what happens when you give people without common sense positions with responsibility. And I don’t miss the work at all. It became demeaning. High maintainance customers, psychologically unbalanced co-workers, and the standard low motivation college kids. And now I can buy good coffee beans instead of the weekly one pound freebie.

Only Thirty yet Bankrupt, Divorced, and Medicated

Like I always say, it could always be worse. One of my former co-workers was a thirty year old who put her husband through med school (using some of her own inhertiance) put her own ‘career’ in retail merchanding on hold, just to have the guy dump on when he finished school.
So there she is, working in a coffee shop, living at home, owing $32,000 in medical bills, and on anti-depressants. Okay, I can understand the anti-depressants; I only wish I could have got some from my doctor.
But with all this, what does she do with her life: part time job in a coffee shop partiying like there’s no tomorrow with college kids. Her best friends are a lesbian and gay guy and she complains she can’t meet any good men. It’s drinking until you vomit or are drunk enough to have sex with a stranger.
Spends her near minimum wage earnings on Madonna and Brittany Spears concerts and staying in hotels ordering room service. On a night out in Chicago they ran up a $200 bar tab, went to the room and ordered room service, more than once; next night hit a wine bar. And this all was just to pick up someone from the airport, a 2 -3 hour drive from their home.
I was so lucky when I was a college since we had no money, no charge cards, so were really limited in the damage we could do to ourselves. Cheap wine and maybe someone else would share some pot with the rest of us.
I just don’t get the insanity I see these adults. And I find it hard to listen to their complaints that they have no money. Are these the people I’ll be relying on to pay into Social Security so I can have my benefits?

Free again from Starbucks Life

I used to work in a coffee shop. Needed to earn some money and mostly needed the benefits. Banks don’t offer medical with retirement anymore. But it wore me down. Physically and the lack of mental stimulation. Co-workers were college aged, mostly either on meds or should have been, some managing to get food stamps while being supported by parents and running up their charge accounts drinking themselves into oblivion. One filed bankruptcy, another had collection agencies hunting him down at work. What are they going to do later in life when the real problems like marriage, kids, disease set in? A dysfunctional lot who had real challenges just showing up for work when scheduled. And if a university class was to hard somehow they could substitute with a community college class.
I thought it was going to be just an interim position till I found something better. There is nothing better. But it got to the point where it was hazardous to my health; feet ached, acid reflux getting worse and I wasn’t even drinking the coffee. Manic Baristas with deranged laughter who physically disregard your personal space by they bumping their sagging breasts into you every time they pass by.
Face it – they didn’t like me and I didn’t like them. We have parted. COBRA, where are you?