In which Time Does Fly

 Five years ago, today, in 2019, on what was also a Sunday, I got probably the most disrespectful phone call I've ever gotten.

A little background.  In 2018, the store I was working, where I'd been an assistant manager for 10 of the 14 years I'd been in the position, was hiring a new Store Manager.  5 people applied.  4 of those people had a combined 80 years experience as salaried management for Food Lion.  The fifth had less than a year.   

Much less than a year.

They got the job.

They were bad.  I went from working 45-50 hours a week to working 55-60, right off the bat.  I would be working that schedule, the new manager said, until I learned how to run a store.

This despite being pulled aside and being told that I would need to show her the ropes on a great many things.  And successful and happy completion of said task would be a great feather in my cap toward the promotion I was just denied.  

For most of a year, I was the bigger man.  Not reacting to baiting arguments.  Working extra hours while she worked fewer.  Getting thrown under the bus.  Having to apologize to customers for her demeanor.  Until I popped in September of 2019, after she had told several people that I was sleeping in the office during my closing shifts.  We all had a sit down with what was supposed to be the Director, but was pawned off on one of his lieutenants.  That day was one of the worst days in my life.  Nothing was resolved.  What should have been  confidential complaint was very much public.  It was difficult for John, the guy who had to handle it.  It was chickenshit by the Director, who pawned the whole thing off on John.  And it made our working relationship even more difficult.    Between my manager and me.   Between John and Me.  And especially between the Director, Jim, and me.

Cut to 3 months later.  She left the company.  Whether it was voluntary or involuntary depended on who you asked.  But I returned from a trip to Florida to having to run a store during Christmas short another salaried manager.  I didn't get a day off for 16 days, counting that Sunday the 22nd.

I was checking a grocery order, when the director called.  He saw that I had bid on the recently opened position.  And he was calling to inform me that I would not be considered for the role.

I asked why not.

He said that he had too many questions about my work ethic.  

When I asked for elaboration, he hemmed and hawed and there were too many times in the past year when I had left my former manager hanging.  He wouldn't in good conscience put me in charge of a store.  When I asked if I could have examples of leaving her hanging, he declined to offer any.

I was mystified.  To call a person, 3 days before Christmas, when I was running myself ragged.  It was an either the most mystifyingly ignorant move, or a willfully cruel one.  I've bounced back and forth for years between the two, and I actually think it's a little of both.   The fact is, though, that the aforementioned aide John's job was being eliminated, and he was going to have to be a store manager if he wanted to keep employment.  Jim could have shot straight with me and said that.   But he didn't.  

I've spent a lot of time over the past few years thinking about why I didn't walk.  And wishing that I had truly recognized how badly I was being treated.

And kicking myself for being a coward.

And I don't know if it's cowardice or not.  But in my low points, that's where I land.

Maybe it's just pragmatism.  I mean, I had a decent job, with decent pay, and a lot of vacation time.  Looking for a new job sure is fun.

But the job wasn't that good.  And the pay really wasn't that decent (and would become less decent over the next 3 years).  And the vacation time was really more of a hassle than it was worth.  In a store with a lot of experienced staff, you could go 26 weeks out of the year short an MoD because of vacations.  And when you returned from vacations, you often had to spend 2 days cleaning up the messes.

Anyway.  

Today was much better.  Nobody called me at the beginning of a uber busy day 3 days before a huge holiday to tell me what a lazy piece of shit I was.

I don't know why I still fret about this things.  Why shit like this bothers me when it really shouldn't.

It's not like I'm losing sleep over it.  But I do have a head for dates.  And it just kind of stuck with me.

Maybe writing about it will help.  If I can get it out on paper (or computer pixel), maybe my thoughts will organize enough that they aren't rolling around inside my head like an out of control freight train.

A minor postscript.  On Christmas Day that year, we lost refrigeration at the store.  The way we were set up, we checked refrigeration twice a day on Christmas Day.  Once in the morning, once in the afternoon.  I checked in the afternoon.  And we were losing refrigeration for our meat department.  I kept restarting the system, which would keep it going, but it would shut off after about 30 minutes.  I iced the department down, and covered it up, and waited 3 hours for a tech to show up.  Turns out, it was an easy fix that should have had him in and out in 30 minutes, but he took another 3 hours to fix, soaking up a nice bit of holiday overtime.  So, all told, I worked about 7 hours on what was going to be my first day off in 19.  And missed Christmas dinner.

All told, I probably should have just taken that as another sign from Heaven, or Hell or WhatHaveYou to go hunt up another job.

But then, the name of the blog is Big Stupid Tommy.