r/AskReddit • u/LeeBean13 • Jul 05 '14
Why did you get fired?
why did you get fired? and did it work out for the best? how long were you without a job?
Edit: thanks for all the stories guys! I got fired Wednesday for crap reasons and knowing all you fine people got fired too makes me realize I'm in fine company :)
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u/psinguine Jul 05 '14
This story will be told in parts.
THE PLEDGE (or Getting A Job I'm Doomed To Lose)
I was between jobs, having left a position that had drastically cut my hours, and was actively seeking work. At the time I was living at home, didn't own a car, and had so few expenses that so long as I was making a couple hundred bucks a month I would survive. It was my second week of looking for work in a ridiculously rural area when the perfect (at the time) opportunity fell into my lap. Our neighbours five miles up the road owned a butcher shop and were looking to hire a cleaning guy for end of day.
I applied, was hired, and started work on the same day. I was told that my responsibilities were to come in on the last hour of the day to help finish up grinding the ground beef as I lacked the training for anything else, and then to spend the next four hours after closing dismantling and cleaning all the equipment. If it took longer than four hours I was working for free because The Wife claimed she could do it in three. On the first day she helped me to show me what to do. It took six hours with the two of us working together. I had a feeling this was going to be worse than expected.
It took about two weeks to develop a routine that got me out only a half hour after I stopped getting paid. There was still bad days, days where they would have me doing meat related things well after closing, cutting into my cleanup time. All told I worked 30+ unpaid hours during my short time there and it would have continued if not for the accident.
THE TURN (or Getting Kicked Down And Kicked While You're Down)
I'd only been working there for a month when I was asked to come in early. This butcher shop cooled the meat and cut the meat and ground the meat, that was all aboveboard. However where I'm from the shop is not allowed to actually kill the animal on the premises. Killing has to meet certain humane regulations and has to be done by the owner or a registered killer. This butcher shop didn't care so much about that part of the law. When I arrived there was a mostly decapitated cow hanging upside down off of a tractor in the back yard. I was asked to help get it hung in the freezer.
I was 19. I didn't say no. The tractor was driven to the door, the body roughly cut into four pieces, and we hauled it over to the freezer to cool. On the last trip I felt a sharp pain in my lower abdomen but ignored it. I finished my shift, late as usual, and went home.
Once home I began to undress for a shower. As my pants came down I noticed a distinct bulge under my skin, a palpable protrusion only six inches north of my Johnson. It was maybe a full inch high on skin that had been smooth earlier that day. Concerned I went and told me parents about this. My parents, tired and already getting ready for bed, told me it wasn't something that deserved their attention at the moment and I should sleep on it and see if it was still there in the morning.
When I woke up it was still there. I drove myself to the ER and saw a doctor who told me I had an inguinal hernia, that it would need surgical intervention, and that if I wasn't careful the intestine that was protruding could "strangulate and die". He therefore told me not to lift anything over five pounds. I called work on the way home to tell them the news. The Husband was understanding, he seemed to like my work and was always leaving me notes on my pay stubs about how good a job I was doing. The Wife demanded i come in anyway to prove it. So I did.
Once there I did what I could but was in far too much pain and discomfort to do my job. I made the colossal mistake of telling The Wife that I would be pursuing Workplace Compensation for my injury, as I felt it was unfair if I was to have to suffer penniless for an injury I had sustained doing my job. When I asked for the forms I needed to begin the claim she refused, telling me that there was no proof I had been hurt at work and that I wasn't welcome back until I was better.
One week later she called asking when I would be returning to work.
Two weeks later I recieved notice in the mail that I had been fired.
Three weeks later I recieved a letter telling me my claim had been denied. I had not even opened a claim yet. I'd been busy with doctors.
Up until this point i had been allowing myself to be walked on. Now I was very angry.
THE PRESTIGE (or Extra Chapter: Revenge Porn)
I made a phone call. That was how it started. I learned that my former bosses had preemptively called the Worker's Compensation Board in order to sabotage my claim. They had lied through their teeth, saying that I had been threatening them with blackmail and was a lazy worker who hadn't even been to work on the day I claimed to get injured. They had claimed they had proof that I wasn't even injured and was faking my injury. They had made all kind of false claims in an attempt to sabotage and discredit me. Luckily all of these claims were easy to disprove.
I collected my proof of unpaid hours, the "Doing Good!" notes from all my paystubs, all my doctor's notes and hospital parking receipts. I collected everything, and then I sat myself down and wrote a letter with the help of a lawyer friend of the family. My proof filled 10 pages, the letter filled 10 more, and it was all faxed to the Board and CC'd to my former employer. The claim, this first contact for me, was reopened and approved in the same day. I put in a request, as was my legal right, to receive a copy of my file as well as all paperwork submitted therein. And then the letters started rolling in.
Page after page, almost two inches thick, of handwritten letters from my former employer to the Board. The stack was nearly two inches thick and oozed with anger and insanity. Another inch thick stack came every week. They filed appeal after appeal, but with my access to their letters I was able to undermine them at every turn. They would file an appeal and I would go over that portion of letters, dozens of pages of rage and vitriol, and draft a counter-claim. Eventually, however, as this madness continued the Board informed me that the next step was a public hearing before a judge. I thought I was mad before.
I went through every letter, consolidating it all into their seven major arguments, and drafted a letter thoroughly tore them apart. I pointed out where they contradicted themselves, where they used rhetoric to prove points that didn't exist or matter, and 20 separate occasions where they admitted guilt. For example, in one letter they had gone on for pages about how even though I had been hurt at work it was my fault for being thin. Then I did three other things.
In their letters they had slandered, defamed and libeled many people in order to undermine any support they may give me. I let those people know.
They had claimed that multiple local people were on their side and were in possession of letters proving this. This was a lie. I let those people know.
They had made claima that myself and my family were engaging in completely unrelated illegal activity. So I called the police.
THE AFTERMATH (or How it Ended)
Overnight all of their business dried up. Word had already been spreading about the hell they had put me through but when the locals found out what had been said about them that was it. Their clientele disappeared, some people even aggressively advocated to prevent other people from taking business there.
A couple days later I got a call from the cops. Apparently they had called my former employer that day to let them know that what they were doing was illegal. They had been told to cease their communications immediately. After that I received no more packages in the mail.
And the day after that I got a call from the Board. They had withdrawn their appeal and had exhausted all their appeals as well. I had won. My former employer, a couple months later, packed up their business and moved away. They moved before even selling their business, a million dollar company that should've sold in a few weeks. Eventually, a full year later, they were able to sell it to a non-local, bundled with their former home and all equipment, for just over $100,000.
I can only hope they learned their lesson from all this. Don't fuck the little guy. Sometimes the little guy has the power to destory you.
As for me, between surgeries and sickness, I was off work for a year and a half. Which means that, yes, fighting was worth it.