Velvet in Dupont 04 Dec 2006 5:32 pm
This one is long, but by far the best of the rest, and I wanted to tie it up and not have to go to a part 5!
On December 2, another surprise walks in the door - Opie’s predecessor and Ms. Right’s old boss, the ex-Controller. He was the one who quit and they tried to get me to take his job. Ms. Right waits for the right time, then grabs him and walks into the Weasel’s office, and asks him about why he said she was a bad employee. I was SO PROUD of Ms. Right. I still to this day can’t believe she had the balls to do this. She said to me, “Oh, I’m not letting him get away. And I’m doing it in front of the Weasel, so all our stories are straight.” Of course the old supervisor denied everything, and the Weasel was stunned. He sat there with his mouth on the floor like Dominick Dunne when they read the OJ verdict. Does anyone besides me remember that? No? Oh well. It was funny.
Ms. Right called corporate to report on the meeting with her old boss and the Weasel since she told them this during their meeting when they came to town. The HR bats said, “Why don’t you ask him?” Ms. Right said, “Because he doesn’t work here anymore.” Except no one counted on him showing up to say hi a couple weeks later after being MIA for a year. Ms. Right also asked about the status of “their investigation.” They said they “completed” their study and found that a lot of things were trumped up by the rumor mill. Ms. Right said, “But MellyMel said she heard from Opie’s mouth that he wanted to fire me because I was black.” Corporate HR’s response? “It’s JUST. NOT. TRUE.” We thought they were going to help us. Instead, they did nothing.
December 4th, The Designer, MellyMel, Ms. Right, LongIsland and I have lunch in the conference room. We are laughing and making fun of each other, and a couple managers pop their heads in, with one saying it sounds good to hear laughter around the office after the last few months. Fat Bastard also pops his fat head in a bunch of times, and just stares, as he is famous for. Just staring at the girls and their boobies.
December 7th, All of us are written up for having an “extended lunch” as referenced above. Fat Bastard, who as the Purchasing Manager had NO BUSINESS being in the meeting where we were told we were being written up is sitting in there just staring. (Gee Fat Bastard, don’t you have some chickens to eat, or some house price calculations to fuck up? Oh, shoot, I ended that with a preposition, let me try it again. Don’t you have some house price calculations to fuck up, asshole?”)
I refused to sign the sheet. The Weasel says, “You know Velvet, we all just want to move on.” I said, “This doesn’t seem like moving on.” I flick their copy of the form back across the table and say, “I don’t need this, you can have it back. I’m not signing it. I’ll write a response to what lies you have here.” I walk over to the fax machine and send it off to some lawyer peeps I know who wrote a rebuttal for me in 10 minutes. I knocked on the door where they were still writing people up, threw their paper at them, then walked out. LongIsland called me in 10 minutes and said, “OH MY GOD, what the HELL did you give them? They just walked out of the conference room, FLIPPING OUT and said they have to call corporate.”
Then, LongIsland turned in a similar rebuttal. Gee, I wonder how it happened that ours were almost identical? A day after that, MellyMel turned in another very similar rebuttal. Again, can you believe the coincidence here? Wow! (The rebuttals were peppered with legalese designed to protect us in case we were fired. It accused them of retaliation for the sexual harassment investigation.) With each letter that arrived, the Weasel told my boss I could be “in trouble if I didn’t stop.” My boss said to the Weasel, “I can’t control what Velvet does. She is doing what she thinks is right.” Then he said to me, “You know I cut us deals to go to the new builder. Can’t you just sit tight for 60 days and behave?” I said, “No. I can’t. This is my good name at stake. I have to fight. I can’t sit by and let them do this to us. What happened here is wrong. So very wrong. And they allow it. It’s the reason we can’t build a fucking house. Because of all this.”
In January, Cocaine Carrie got drunk and called the Designer. Remember I said to not forget the conversation in Hawaii? Well, here it comes. Cocaine Carrie started telling the Designer all this strife in the office was the fault of my boss’ wife who shot her mouth off in Hawaii at the manager’s meeting. The Designer let her talk, and she said that the Weasel suspected that my boss was trying to take over, so he told corporate all about it, before any of us had even filed complaints. The Weasel sensed that the tide was turning, that people were getting sick of Opie, and instead of doing something about it, he decided to wag the dog, so to speak. He brought up another issue entirely, the planned takeover by my boss of the division, and told corporate that my boss was going to encourage all of us to file complaints against Opie to make him, the Weasel, look incompetent. So, when we all started calling and filing complaints, they expected our calls, and that is also why, despite our documentation, no one believed us.
A couple days later, they fired LongIsland for no good reason. The next day, my boss gave his notice. He handed me an external hard drive and said, “I’ve taken copies of all my files. Get yours too.” The Weasel asked him to leave shortly thereafter, calling him “disruptive.”
Opie stepped back into the picture, trying to act like my new boss now. The Weasel actually told my boss he considered making me report to Opie, but my boss said, “Are you kidding? After everything that happened? You need her, and that’s the surest way to get her to walk out.” So the Weasel became my new boss, with Opie sending me email after email asking me to do things and giving me 1 day deadlines when he knew I wasn’t even in the office to work on them because I was in meetings all over the state of Maryland.
Then NeedsMeds emails me and tells me to give her the passwords for my budgets. I refused, since some Einstein from their department deleted a bunch of columns once, forcing me to have to recreate them from scratch. She copied the Weasel, so I responded as such and copied the Weasel back. He came to my desk to find out why I didn’t want to give out the password. I told him that I’m responsible for the budgets, and if they get messed up or deleted again, it’s my neck on the line. I also said, “Besides, anyone can look at them by clicking read only, so I don’t see what the problem is and why we go through this needless power play every week.” He actually fucking agreed, so we asked her together why she needed the password. She said, without looking up from her computer, “Opie told me to get it.”
Feb 2nd. I had a meeting with the Weasel and Opie to review budgets. We spent more time in that company reviewing budgets than we did building fucking houses. Later that day, I’m trying to run out for a meeting and the Construction Manager calls me.
CM: So what are you doing?
Velvet: I’m trying to run out of here for a meeting.
CM: No. What are you doing?
Velvet: Um, what??
CM: You know. They want to know what you’re doing.
Velvet: Who wants to know?
CM: Well, the Weasel and Opie told me to ask you.
I was evasive. I told him I didn’t know. What I didn’t tell him was that a Fed Ex package arrived at my door that morning, with the offer letter to go work with my now ex, soon to be current again boss at the new builder. The only issue, I had a pending bonus of $5000 that I needed to get processed. It was supposed to be paid on the 15th, but stupid NeedsMeds, who it seems was now boycotting the use of any brush or comb in her hair, was instructed by Opie to delay it for a month. Payroll cut off on the 3rd. I needed proof that something I got this easement signed AND recorded before NeedsMeds will process my fucking bonus and I needed that proof within 24 hours.
I grab Ms. Right and we head to fucking Laurel Maryland. I march in to the Sanitary Commission and beg my ass off for the signed easement. The lady said, “You people at OLDBUILDER and your problems, I am never doing this for you again.” I said, and I promise it was hard to not smirk, “Fine by me.” I grabbed the letter, dropped Ms. Right off at her house, and headed to god damned Upper Marlboro to record it. In the snow I might add. I called the Recordations office and said I had something urgent that needed to be taken in today. They said I had until 4 p.m. Speedracer and I flew through the snow from Laurel to Upper Marlboro, and got to the office just in time. I asked them to record it on the spot, but because of the time, they couldn’t. They did, however, give me a receipt.
I brought the receipt back to NeedsMeds that night and said, “Look, see? It was recorded.” She put the bonus in by the payroll deadline of the next day.
Feb 4th. I overhear the rest of the managers talking about the Designer, and very poorly. Their gossip train continues down the office and through the halls from manager to manager. I witness it all, then inform the Designer what they were saying about her. What do I care? I’m quitting. They are all such ridiculous pathetic excuses for managers anyway. If they knew what they were doing, they would just get her on the phone to clarify what happened instead of gossiping. So happy I’m leaving! I signed that offer letter and fed exed it back. I started checking out of Old Builder.
One pending issue left. I had spent the last 6 months at Old Builder finding and negotiating the purchase of a fantastic building in D.C. This project was like my baby, and I was about to jump ship and leave it behind. The broker for the sellers of the building called and asked what was going to happen now that my boss was gone. I said that I doubted Old Builder would want to proceed, as they did not have the ability to build one house, let alone a building of condo conversions. He said in the wake of my boss quitting, he had been trying to discuss the contract with the Weasel who told him he didn’t want to proceed with the project, but he couldn’t get him to sign a termination letter. Fucking typical. I say, “Send me that termination letter.” He said, “Oh, can you sign it?” I said, “No, but I know who can.”
I walk into the Weasels office and with a couple magic tricks, he signs that fucking letter and signs away his right to purchase a building 5 blocks from the White House. Fucking idiot. I faxed the letter to the broker, then called him and said the letter should be coming through the fax now. He thanked me profusely, and said, “I think I’ll be seeing you again, no?” I said, “I think that’s a safe assumption.” Then my ex-boss calls me and says, “HEY! How are you? You know, my new company is doing great. We just put a building in DC under contract…5 blocks from the White House.” I said, “Really? You don’t say…”
I was fucking OldBuilder in the ass left and right this week. Damn did it feel good to strap on for once instead of having to take it.
Feb 15. Hop out of bed. Hellooooo Wachovia.com. I check my balance, see that my bonus is indeed there, and drive to work and resign to the Weasel. Damn that shit felt good. At 5 p.m., NeedsMeds wanders up to my desk, sits down and starts unloading. She told me that she asked for a raise, but Opie and the Weasel said no. Then she overheard them in their office and one of them said, “A woman should never make that much money.” Oh boys. Boys boys boys.
Feb 16, NeedsMeds says I need to write a resignation letter. It says, “To whom it may concern: Please accept this letter as my formal resignation from OldBuilder. My last day will be Feb 28.” It should have said, “P.S. Please buy NeedsMeds a hairbrush, the Weasel a toothbrush, Fat Bastard 30 sessions with a nutritionist and Opie a blow up doll.”
Feb 17, the Weasel told me I “no longer seemed happy” and we could just make today my last day. Fine by me. I just stared at him, sans expression. He said, “Do you have anything to say?” I said, “Nope. I don’t.” He gave me my last check and asked for my expense report. He said it would be paid in a week or two. Fat Bastard walked me out. I’m surprised he wasn’t in an electric wheelchair by that point he was so fat. Fucking asshole. I called my boss from the parking lot and said, “GUESS WHERE I DON’T WORK ANYMORE!!”
That night I went out with MellyMel where some chick attacked us at this bar and tried to make out with us. Once we got rid of her, MellyMel and I went outside, and some guy who lived in my apartment complex followed me out there. He and I ended up making out, then I climbed to the top of the patio of this bar and was hanging upside down from the rafters. I was so fucking elated, you couldn’t have brought me into a bad mood. Until at least 12 hours later.
The next morning I woke up with Bronchitis that turned into the Flu so bad I passed out twice at my house and ended up in the ER. I also passed out in the ER and they dragged me by my arm across the floor to the door of a room where the told me to get up and get in the bed. Who does this?? I would have filed a complaint but I was tired of filing complaints. I had a 103.5 temp for 4 days. Before they released me, they said, “Do you need a note for work?” I would have laughed if I could have opened my mouth. I like to view this as the catharsis of OldBuilder leaving my system. I was really sick. I mean, really sick. It was horrible. I think I may have died at one point, it was that bad. Actually, it took me 8 months to feel like myself again. I still don’t know what I had.
March 1. I say to no one in particular in my apartment: “Is it possible I can no longer work for OldBuilder, yet they are still torturing me?” An email from NeedsMeds informs me that she cannot release my expense check until I return the rolodex. (It is MY rolodex from my last job. Not theirs.) I’m done playing games with these fucking ninnies. They have officially fucked the wrong girl.
I fire off an email to the CEO at the Redneck Headquarters. I officially pull out “the big guns.” It says this:
Dear Mr. CEO:
You may recall that we met when you visited the Maryland Division last February. I worked directly for “my boss.” We also discussed the fact that you knew my brother, who works at “hoity toity investment firm” in New York. Sadly, I gave my notice to the Maryland Division and was subsequently terminated two days later. Now they are holding a final expense check for which they are claiming they want a rolodex returned which I have already explained to the Weasel, does not belong to Old Builder. It is my personal rolodex. While I’m no longer surprised by any of their behavior, it is unconscionable of them to hold this check, and might I add, illegal.
I never did get a response from him. He was probably out hunting with Cheney, picking off employees. But I got an email from the Weasel within the hour, who said that I would receive my check “tomorrow.” The fucking hilarious irony? The check was only for $60. So for $60 they were willing to fuck with someone who has a brother in a very high place in a New York Investment Firm, quite important for a public company who wants to look good to Wall Street and who may not want them to know what fucking dickwad poor, sexually harassing managers they are.
A week later NeedsMeds calls me at home to discuss how miserable she is. She goes on and on for an hour. I keep trying to get off the phone with her because she called during peak time and I was out of minutes. Then the crazy bitch goes back and tells the Weasel that I called her and pumped her for info. What. The. Fuck. The Weasel tells anyone who is talking to me that it could “be very bad for them.” OMG! In my whole life I have never been the “bad influence.” Now I’m a bad influence on an entire company!
Early April. Someone overhears Opie looking through resumes, picking out the obviously African-American names, saying, “No, we don’t want another problem around here. Let’s hire an Asian. They are submissive.”
April 8th. When I left, Opie and NeedsMeds took the budgets over from me. Opie zeroed everything out and had the buffoon interns start from scratch. Without all the footnotes, formulas and detailed history, they were sufficiently fucked. CompanyGirl flew in from Redneck Headquarters to Maryland to have a meeting, and allegedly her boss was to come the following day. The first day Ms. Right was called into the meeting and she said she sat in there all day watching Opie get grilled, watching CompanyGirl ask where all the numbers were that “Velvet and I worked on.” Opie kept running out of the room, calling the interns in asking questions, and Ms. Right said it was an entire day of watching him squirm. Around 4 p.m., CompanyGirl called her boss and told him there was no reason to come. Then she turned back to the group and said to Ms. Right, “Would you please leave us alone for a minute?”
There were a lot of closed doors, but ultimately they fired him for zeroing out the budgets. According to NeedsMeds, he was really fired for the sexual harassment, but they were just waiting for another excuse. Part of me wished I could have hung in there for the extra 6 weeks it took to see him get fired, but, they needed me to leave to provide them with the excuse to fire Opie. (Sarcasm on it’s way in 3…2…1…) Well, I’m so happy I could provide that for y’all! Yee haw! Y’all come back now when you learn how to really run a company, ya hear?
If anyone is keeping score, I’m the reason Opie got hired, and I’m also the reason he was fired. If I had wanted that job, he wouldn’t have gotten it. And if I had stayed to be the budget bitch, they wouldn’t have found their excuse to can him. He left my boss a message saying he was fired for “not outing yours and Velvet’s mistakes.” Then he emailed me the same garbage. My dad was like, “Wait, he EMAILED YOU as if he never created all these problems? This guy is insane!” Months later, my boss received a phone call from someone at Old Builder, and they said, “We found old paper copies of the budgets, and everything was on target. Opie really did a number on this place.”
OH, wait, you want the closing credits with each person’s fate. Okay.
NeedsMeds had a meltdown, quit, went back to Old Builder and then quit again. She showed up on my caller ID about a year later, and I picked it up. She hung up on me, and then I called her right back and she let the machine pick it up. I should have left her a message: “Hello? Your crazy-meds ran out. Better get more before your insurance expires.”
Opie went to work for another builder where he promptly asked his assistant if she shaved or waxed her pussy. He was fired within a year. He’s now job hunting again, and used my boss for a reference on a couple jobs. My boss said to anyone who called, “Only hire him if you want all the women in your office to file a lawsuit.” He is now using someone else I know for a reference, and that person hasn’t provided him a good one either. My boss said, “What? He’s using someone else? Wonder how long it took him to figure out I was slamming him all over the place.” It’s a small industry with consolidations daily. I doubt he’ll work in this town again. He can’t get a good reference.
Fat Bastard was fired. My boss saw him at a restaurant last week with his wife and kid, trying extra hard to use a coupon they didn’t qualify to use. He’s been out of work for 6 months and told my boss things were “really bad.” My boss said he was a dick about it. Well, he always was an angry asshole.
The Weasel was demoted, then fired. He now works for another builder but is allegedly miserable. They have him out in the field, instead of in a cushy office.
Cocaine Carrie was very miserable without the above people to keep her company. She called my boss at his home number to speak with him, presumably about a new job. Except she didn’t get that far. His wife answered. And she lit into Cocaine Carrie for everything she said to the Weasel, and all the trouble she caused. She said, “None of you people helped my husband when he was at Old Builder, and now every one of you who is miserable or has been fired have come crawling back for a job.”
People always get what they deserve. Remember that kids.
About a year after working for my current company, a company I love, I was on a business trip. My boss said I made a good impression on the President of another division and he wanted me to fly to Texas and hang out in his division for a week to “see how things operate.”
Boss: What? Why not?
Velvet: If I didn’t learn it at Old Builder, I would be a fool.
Boss: Oh, you don’t think he’s on the up and up?
Velvet: No. I don’t. I’m better at it this time around.
Two months later, he was fired for sexual harassment. My boss came in and said, “That manager was fired. Seems someone filed a complaint about him.” That’s what makes this company so great, they don’t tolerate that crap for a second.
Once you’ve suffered at the hands of an Opie, you can spot another one miles away. Sexual harassment isn’t about sex and some horny bastard who isn’t getting any at home. It’s about control, every single time.
*Entire story is true and happened over the course of 16 months at a top national homebuilder. Commenters who can verify that the preceeding 4 posts are in fact, very true, are MellyMel and Kiki.