Saturday, June 12, 2010

You're Fired

I never watched Donald Trump's "The Apprentice." I never appreciated anything that made light of one of life ultimate indignities ... getting terminated from your job.

To many of us, our jobs define us. They give us a good sense of who we are, what we've accomplished, and -- perhaps most importantly -- how well we can provide for ourselves and our families.

To lose that ... even if the reasons are valid and unavoidable ... is no laughing matter. So when I see a rodeo clown like Donald Trump (even if he is a rich rodeo clown) on TV blabbering that "you're fired," I want to scream. And it makes me think that it's reason No. 124 (or something) about why our economic system in in such terrible shape. There are many reasons, of course, but once of them could be that we just don't appreciate what people do ... the contributions they make.

Yes, it's true. They get paid. But anyone who thinks this is strictly due to the largesse of the employer is hoplessly naive. Maybe that happens once in a while, but by and large, we get paid for what we do because our expertise is needed to keep the business going.

And that means it's a two-way street ... that our employees deserve a little dignity and respect along with their money, and that if there's ever the perception in the work place that one or the other (or both) is lacking, you'll see some pretty poor attitudes bubble to the surface in a hurry.

I've been fired. It was back in 1987, and it was from a job that I probably never should have accepted in the first place. It wasn't for me. It was too young, and too immature, and too used to the sloppy informality of the newspaper environment to adapt to the corporate protocol of an august company like NYNEX (now Verizon).

I lasted a year. And I walked on eggshells for probably half that. And it occurred to me that just like there are horses for courses, there are people better suited for certain jobs. Or, as the managing editor of the paper that took me back after I was let go said, "some people just belong in certain places.

And some people don't, too.

Getting fired was devastating. It just burrowed through to the very core of who I was, and it also struck a deep nerve of failure. Even now, 23 years later, I can rationalize about it only so much. Yes, it was a personality conflict between my boss and me. Yes, it was a job that I just wasn't cut out to do. Yes, it was very much a case of bad karma gathering momentum until events overtook me. And yes, despite anything I might have been able to do, I was powerless to do it once all this negativity was set in motion.

It took me a long time to understand this wasn't a reflection on me, but, rather, a chain of events that spun out of control. By the time I was called into an office and given the news, it was almost a mercy killing.

This isn't to say I enjoyed it. And this isn't to say that, even today, I have extreme bitterness toward the boss who chose to make it so difficult for me to thrive there. There are good bosses, and there are bad bosses. This one was definitely in the latter category.

The problem, as I see it, is simple. You, as an employee, get the sense (whether it's real or not) that you have a bull's eye on your back. Right away, that affects how you do your job. You cannot work effectively when your boss has his foot on your throat.

And it just becomes an unbreakable cycle. The harder you press, the worse you do ... the more mistakes you make, the worse the mistakes are ... and it becomes almost a self-fulfilling prophecy. And even when you do something that you perceive to be the right thing, it'll often be looked at as wrong simply because your employer is more interested in building a case against you than he is judging your work objectively.

These are all feelings I had when I got fired from that job 23 years ago. As I said, I never should have taken it. But at the time, it looked too good to pass up. The money was tremendous, and I thought this was my ticket to bigger and better things.

As an aside, the experience taught me, perhaps more than anything else, that money cannot buy you happiness in your job. It helps, but if the job keeps you up at night, there's not enough money in the world to compensate for that.

So when the axe finally fell, it was almost a relief. It was a simple meeting, really ... just my boss and me.

"This is unfortunate," he said, turning his back on me as he spoke and handing me an evaluation he'd done that had more misspellings and typographical errors than a third-grader's book report. "I'm letting you go."

I actually made him say "fired." I knew what he meant, but I wanted him to say it. So I said, "what do you mean, letting me go?"

He had to say it. And that's all he said too. "Fired."

I guess that's the thing that always stuck to my crew. He couldn't even look me in the eye to tell me this. He turned his back on me. And judging from the amount of professional care he put into his evaluation of me, he didn't spend a lot of time thinking about either.

Once the shock of it all wore off, there was relief. Whatever else I had to deal with (and the timing couldn't have been worse, as we were in the middle of buying a house), I didn't have to deal with the Sword of Damocles hanging over my head.

Life got pretty dicey for a while. But I was fortunate. I had people at the newspaper where I'd previously worked who thought enough of me help me get back on my feet in the immediate aftermath; and hired me back full time a few months later.

So why do I write this today? Someone at my office was let go yesterday. I can't say it was a huge shock. Even he knew it was coming (if you're honest, you know). Still, though, it took me back to that day, August 11, 1987, a Tuesday morning, when I got the news that I was being terminated. And no matter how much you suspect it's coming, and even know it's coming, there's a finality to it that just leaves you weak, even if it's only for a second. You have to sit down.

The purpose here isn't to judge the justification of whether the person should have been fired. All I can ever hope is that the reasons are valid, and that there was no other alternative. I don't dispute the fact that some people are just not meant for certain jobs, and I also don't dispute the fact that even if they are, it can reach a point where the situation just becomes untenable, whether it's performance or personality related.

In this case (and in most cases), that's between the employer and employee.

But it doesn't stop you from feeling badly that whatever happened, it couldn't be resolved ... that things just couldn't be worked out. It's an awful thing to have happen to you.

And it's also difficult for the people left behind, too. We don't know what to think ... what's next ... or who's next ... or even if anybody's next. You just don't know.

All you're left with is confusion. And the feeling that you'd better step a little livelier around the office.

But your last image -- or, at least, my last image is of someone who's just had his whole life pulled out from under him. That's not a good feeling. And a pox on anyone who treats it as if it's some kind god damned joke.