The Dance

Retirement welcomes me back with open arms. That was the shortest stint of my glorious career. Seven days. Someday I'll find it real funny. Not so much yet.

So here's how it went down (and I'm not fictionalizing names to protect the innocent, because, damn it, they're GUILTY AS HELL!).

The company is Roto-Plate, Inc of Burlington, NC. They claim to be "Providers of plates and graphics for the flexo industry since 1974." I went through two lengthy interviews with the owner, Jim Freeman and his new sidekick, Dan Allen. They called me. I had yet to send out a resume.

I was fawned over. I was courted. We did the hiring dance. I was made an offer. I countered their offer. They countered back. I accepted. Feelings were good. The future looked so bright I probably needed shades...ooops...although they had lost their largest account just weeks before. Timing is everything, isn't it?

OK. All right. I still believed in my fellow human being and that these were two good people who wanted to succeed. Not twenty-four hours later Mr. Freeman is on the phone with me rescinding his offer. "Although we really want you on-board, we can only afford you at $1 less an hour than what we talked about yesterday."

OK. All right. Should have seen it at this point. But he sounds like such a nice, sincere man. I'm there with you, man. I think I can contribute to righting your listing ship.

Fool me once...

Monday, August 3, 2009 I report for work. The reception by fellow employees is a little cool, but hey, it's Monday morning. I spend that first day being shown around, filling out piles of paperwork and getting settled in on a new computer. Tuesday I get down to it. I receive approximately twenty-five minutes of training by the now rapidly cooling staff. I'm in. Slapped on the back and shoved into the deep end. Sink or swim. Good luck buddy.

Wednesday through Friday we're heading into the dead of winter. These people surrounding me are not happy people. I go about doing the work I'm given to the best of my ability with the limited training I've received.

Monday. I explained to them that between the time of the first interview and the hiring I had been chosen for jury duty. No problem, they say. Four and a half hours of listening about the true scum of the county later I roll into work. Ice. No other way of explaining it.

OK. All right. Let's get to the punchline...

Tuesday. Same 'ole same 'ole. Until 4:15pm. Mr. Allen comes to fetch me. Mr. Freeman would like to talk to us. I walk into the same conference room where we had fawned and courted and danced. Whoa! Instant deep freeze!! " I finally had a chance to get with my accountant who has been out of town and...well...it's not good" says Mr. Freeman. "We're bleedin'. We're a bleedin' bad." says Mr. Allen. "We've decided to let you go at this time so you can get on with finding employment" says Mr Freeman in that, I'm doing you a big favor voice. They couldn't have gained this nugget of information before we danced? Oh, of course. Busy, busy accountant. Lucky we found him at all, they tell me. All I could say was "you should have known this before you put me and my family through this." I packed my stuff and left.

Fool me twice...

...ain't gonna happen! I'm going for dance lessons!!