Past in Present
August 17th, 2010
So, many years ago, I had to fire someone. In retrospect, this is ridiculous, because I swear to you, I was MAYBE 25, had zero experience doing such things, and was counseled to do so in a way that was as close to asking for a lawsuit as one can get without filing the paperwork and suing yourself. Granted, this person should not have retained her job — she was terrible, unreliable, sometimes willfully defiant and yet (YET!) consistently asked for a promotion. It was a lethal combination, as you can imagine, and after first counseling her to look for another job through the power of gentle suggestion (she didn’t get it, or refused — not sure which), I had to fire her.
It was hideous. Hideous! She bawled! She was shocked! I was frozen, basically reading off of a piece of paper like an idiot so that we WOULDN’T get sued, when all I wanted to do was hug her. And again, why the eff HR wasn’t doing this was beyond me, but there I was, a totally incompetent 25-year-old manager who had no business managing, firing someone under the guise of a one-person layoff.
It was one of the worst things I’d ever had to do.
A few hours after she’d left, her mom called me to yell at me. Her mother called me! HER MOTHER. And she called me a dumb low-life and all kinds of things that were probably true at the time (seriously, I was only a manager because I brought in a piece of business that was a lot of money, end of story). Now, her mom and I had tangled previously, when Marla (yes, let’s call her that), called in sick, but didn’t leave information where some VERY IMPORTANT MISSION-CRITICAL documents that had been due the previous day were kept, so I had to call her at home and … well, she wasn’t home, she was in NYC visiting her boyfriend and THAT was awkward and awful, and yes, her mother yelled at me for invading her privacy, when … well, it was Marla who blew off the deadline AND was busy porking on a futon in the Upper West Side, so who’s really at fault here?
Fast forward to Saturday, and I’m in line at Gourmet India at the mall food court, because that’s what you DO when you have a kid who hates sitting still at a restaurant and you have no food in the house and you just want to EAT without it being a HUGE PRODUCTION, and dear Jesus, people, SHE WAS RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME.
GAH GAH GAH. I kept silent and just sort of quietly panicked at the memory, and my only consolation is that she looked fabulous and didn’t bear any visible scars from the horrid, no-good awful faux layoff I inflicted upon her in my youth.
And whatever, don’t mock me for my food court Indian selection, because while I know it’s kind of gross, seeing as not only are you in a FOOD COURT, but everything meat-like is draped in some kind of heavy sauce that could be masking the remains of Max and Ruby’s doubtlessly deceased parents up in there, let me tell you something: I lived without decent Indian for FIVE YEARS. The last Indian place near us in Vermont featured a very old Indian matriarch, all wizened-like, who sat behind the hostess desk and SHAVED THE SKIN OFF HER FEET WITH A RAZOR THE ENTIRE MEAL.
I can handle Gourmet India, is what I’m saying. And besides, I would very likely eat the asshole of any animal anywhere (I grew up in Pennsylvania Dutch country! I ate scrapple!), provided it was done with the right sauce and plenty of cilantro. I’ve always wanted to be Indian, if only so I could learn to cook their food. Not to denigrate my own cultural heritage — I’m Hungarian and Italian, which, while no gastronomic slouches, have cuisines I like to sum up as follows:
Hungarians: Throw some paprika and sour cream on it. Extra points if there’s cabbage. You think I’m kidding, but if you’ve ever had eastern European haluski, you know that I’m not.
Italians: Do we have tomatoes and basil? Excellent. Here’s dinner.
And of course, there’s the Pennsylvania Dutch: Can we pickle it? What if we throw some hard-boiled eggs in there? Excellent! What if we fry up a pig’s stomach to go along with it? EVEN EFFING BETTER.
(Side note: pickled beets and eggs is one of my favorite things, ever, and my dad made some DELICIOUS ones last week)
(Side side note: Shoo fly pie is just SILLINESS in a pie crust and yet people go BONKERS for it. Basically it’s molasses and crumbs. BARF.)
But Indians! Such spices! Beans! Cilantro! Coriander seed! (Same thing, different form) THINGS THAT HAVE FLAVOR. AND LACK ENTRAILS, MAYBE.
Well, this went to a place I wasn’t planning. Sorry about that. A few housekeeping tidbits, yes?
- I’m reviving the Book Lushes after a summer hiatus. Stay tuned!
- Speaking of books, I’ve started reading Alexa’s, (yes, this Alexa) and cannot stop. I can’t stop. I’m not one to blow smoke in this area, so when I tell you that this is exceptional — that SHE is exceptional, both as a person and as a writer — you must believe me. And you must go out and get it for yourself, and then report back to me how big of a genius you think she is, because you will. She is. It’s SO GOOD, you guys. It’s like, LAUGH OUT LOUD good, and funny and poignant and heartbreaking … IT IS SO GOOD. IT IS SO GOOD. SO GOOD. SHE IS SO GOOD.
She is also a friend, and I am really proud to say that, and proud of her. But that does not mean she hasn’t earned my respect as a hugely talented writer with the first chapter alone. Holyshit.
- While an odd segue, I wrote a few things other places on the internet, both kind of pulled from my ass and thrown on the table like a lump of something unpleasant, yet strangely … compelling? Or maybe just unpleasant and confusing. One at Polite Fictions, the other is a recap of this past week’s True Blood for my bosses at Smart Pop. (And a reminder that you can buy my essay for less than a buck AND the entire book is still available!) To those recappers who do this on a regular basis, I salute you. It was great fun, but it was also so much freakin’ work, and hours and hours of rewinding and pausing and note-taking and DING DONG, I HAD A CRAMP, that I have no idea how you do it on a regular basis.
Happy Wednesday!
*Feist
Entry Filed under: Book Lushes,Food follies!,General jackassery,Pop! Goes the Culture,True Blood,Uncategorized
24 Comments Add your own
1. H | August 17th, 2010 at 10:12 pm
Yesterday I ate an entire jar of pickled beets. I love them!
2. Cora | August 17th, 2010 at 11:07 pm
I stayed up late twice last week so I could finish Alexa’s book. It is wonderful! I love her writing so very, very much. I wish her book tour was coming to Texas so I could fan girl all over her. (In the least dirtiest way possible, of course.)
3. Vicki | August 17th, 2010 at 11:23 pm
Heh, taking just a bit of your post….being half Polish (golumpki, anyone?) and part German (maybe replace that Hungarian paprika with…pork) and Italian….AND raised in Bethlehem, PA…..dear god, can I just say that section about “cuisine” made me laugh out loud. Thanks. And don’t get me started on the story about my poor boyfriend thinking my family was hazing him when asked to go to the grocery store and pick up ring bologna and pickled eggs for a picnic…
(And bonus, I have a new book on my list to read)
4. Margot | August 17th, 2010 at 11:59 pm
I’m dying a thousand deaths from second-hand embarrassment over here. That firing story is BONKERS dude. Gawd, I’m sure my 25 yr old self would have botched the hell out of it and then cried afterwards. Ick. Sure makes for a damn good story though!
In MN where I grew up (same town as Alexa, to bring it full circle) we have Hotdish. Tuna, crumpled potato chips on top, and elbow macaroni for days.
5. twojams (Shannon) | August 18th, 2010 at 7:11 am
Great post as usual. I find it amazing that someone’s parent would be that involved in their 25-YO’s career! At 25 I was in a breakaway mode and rarely talked to my mom. (Hmmm, that sounds kind of bad when I write it down. Sorry Mom!)
And, the mental picture of the old Indian lady shaving her feet makes me laugh and also barf a little.
6. Anne | August 18th, 2010 at 7:22 am
The Midwest: Can we add cream of mushroom soup, cover it in cheese, and bake it as a hotdish? YES, YES WE CAN.
I am ASTOUNDED that a parent would be all up in their 25 year old kids career. I mean, if that were a babysitting gig and the kid was 13, SURE, the parent would be involved in beginning and endings. But geeze. It’s kinda no wonder she was flaky and unreliable if her mom was still wrenching her way into controlling her daughter’s life like that.
7. jonniker | August 18th, 2010 at 7:28 am
Vicki: HA HA HA. I grew up in Easton.
Um, everyone? I don’t know how to say this, but *I* was 25. I’m pretty sure Marla was … well, at least 28. Maybe 29.
8. Kerry | August 18th, 2010 at 7:55 am
I was in HR for 14 years, most of them in Milwaukee. I’ve hired and fired thousands of people. Milwaukee is not that big. So everywhere I go, I’ll see someone, and they’ll look familiar, and I’ll be like, “Okay, which one is that? Did I hire that one? Or fire her? Which company? How long ago?” And because I have a terrible memory for faces, the only way I can tell is by how hard they’re glaring at me.
And I can’t count the number of mothers (and even grandmothers) I’ve had to deal with. Not to mention this one chick who brought her crazy aunt, who had worked in HR for 20 minutes in the 1970s, to her unemployment appeal hearing to testify that she KNEW HR (from her 20 minutes in the 1970s), and based on that, she had decided that I was the WORST HR PERSON EVER. Because I had fired her niece. Even though her niece had resigned, and I had a copy of her resignation letter, with her signature and everything.
Also, I’m impressed that you have Indian food in your food courts there. The most exotic thing in my food court is a Panda Express. and I think they sell cheese curds there.
9. Raven | August 18th, 2010 at 8:23 am
It is entirely ridiculous that her mother was involved in her “career” UGH.
On the other note, you can make Indian food at home. I have some recipes! I just got back from shopping at the Indi-Pak yesterday and have a counterfull of new products and spices. I endured the “you poor little white girl” looks from the Indian woman who offered to help us figure out what stuff is as we poured over all the boxes. I’ve made Red Lentil Dahl myself (SO GOOD) and am going to make a Vindaloo very soon.
10. Li | August 18th, 2010 at 8:47 am
marla story: made me laugh/cry/cringe all at the same time. i think you know why….
and dude, food court indian is not bad. embrace it. love it.
11. danish | August 18th, 2010 at 9:47 am
So I’m guessing she didn’t see you?
12. Shin Ae | August 18th, 2010 at 9:59 am
Okay! Yes! I will get that book, And look at all those stars! Way to go, Alexa!
Also hooray for the following: Book Lushes! Indian food! PA Dutch Country (mostly! but where’s the alcohol?)! All things pickled!
Boo for these: crazy moms & foot scrapings. So bad.
13. Carrie | August 18th, 2010 at 10:07 am
I have a friend who almost missed her plane because the TSA security person whose line she went through turned out to be a former employee she’d fired 10 years before. She’s lucky all that happened to her was an extra-long scan with the wand.
14. Kristabella | August 18th, 2010 at 12:07 pm
Did Marla see you? I did read this whole post but that’s all I kept thinking!!
15. jonniker | August 18th, 2010 at 12:20 pm
GAH! No, no she did not see me, not as far as I know. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t know I’ve moved back to Massachusetts.
16. Amanda | August 18th, 2010 at 2:36 pm
I had to fire a 50 year old woman at age 16. She keyed my car and I still, to this very day, see her in the local walmart and she shoots me the stink eye.
17. Kristin | August 18th, 2010 at 3:53 pm
All of this was very funny, but my favorite part was Max and Ruby’s probably deceased parents…YES! Where are they? My 3.5 year old is obsessed with that show and I have often wondered about the complete absence of mom or dad. Grandma is there, but basically 7 year old Ruby is in charge.
18. Meredith | August 18th, 2010 at 6:33 pm
I spent the entire Indian food section going, “But wait? Did she see you? Did she recognize you???”
I also fired someone once and then got a call from their mother. But in my case, I fired an 18 year old intern because he was spending all of his time on IM and not getting anything done despite countless reminders. Then, after I fired him, his mom called me not to yell at me but to tearfully ask if I thought her son was on drugs. Being somewhat naive, I said I didn’t think so but after I got off the phone and mentioned this to co-workers, they informed me that the fact that this kid had red eyes and always seemed to be eating actually pointed to yes.
Also, I suspected shoefky pie was gross after I was asked in a market in Allentown if I wanted it “wet, extra wet, dry, or extra dry.” What else comes in those combinations?
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