Wuss!

I asked the CEO of a quasi-government insurance organization (which has within its power the ability to save--or ruin--countless lives by its interpretation of insurance coverages) to participate in a discussion of his company's policies and positions on various topics affecting my neighbors and me.

He asked for a list of prepared questions.

Two weeks ahead of time.

I told him I generally do not have those prepared that far in advance.

When I could not give him those questions until a couple of days before the conversation was to be held, he dodged the appointment, writing in an e-mail that "other folks asked for [my] time...so I made commitments that I cannot break."

Does that mean that the commitment you made to me was breakable, sir?

(Apparently, it was.)

How telling it must be that the CEO of this insurance company feels no compunction for breaking small appointments in such a cavalier manner: This is the same organization that has forced many of its policy holders into financial ruin over the nuances of policy language, and now seeks to obtain legsilative re-definition of its status so as to avoid punitive lawsuits when they make a mistake.

No wonder this wuss didn't want to participate without a heads-up beforehand.

Unspoken Retort

You owe me money.

Quite a bit.

You've strung me out with promises for weeks, months. There's always another check comin' in, always another job you just signed. I once totalled up all the jobs you'd said you'd signed, and if my math were correct, you could have balanced your cash flow problems, and mine, and had money left over.

So who's more stupid--me for believing your tales--or you for thinking you could just go on with impunity?

And what a classy note you sent in response--you, cancelling our contract?

You violated the contract by your non-payment.

Don't feign to cover your ass now by "cancelling" the contract.

The point is moot.

The relationship is over.

The next guy you hear from about this may well be my attorney.

Have a great rest of your life, you reprobate.

Call me...

You wrote your name on the back of my card and handed it back to me.

What's this, I thought.

You're supposed to call me, my eyes said,  

as my mouth mechanically cranked out 

a hopeless thank you

for your stupid name

on the back of my card,

with no number and no means to ever contact you again.

Guess that's what you really wanted to achieve.

So many contacts.

So many calls.

None returned.

For the want of one, I no longer work

calling people who don't wish to be talked to

about something they don't want to know about,

for which they'd spend money they don't have

to pursuade people they don't know

to call them.

Chicken Shit

I lost another job today.

Second one in less than a year.

Didn't think I'd mind it as much as I do, because I truly loathed the gig towards the end.

A friend recommended me, and I was hired over several applicants. However, it was a match not meant to be, on so many levels. 

The corporate headquarters is in the northeast, and I am from the south; just a bit of a cultural difference, which showed up in big ways, like common courtesy and thoughtfulness that my people take for granted...and they haven't a clue about.

Soon, it was process over performance, even though the performance was tacitly expected, and enforced by Third Grade playground tactics. Then a key player in the program started renegging on support, and in some cases competed against itself. 

It was hell.

My first clue things were winding down was the inability in the middle of the day to log-on to the network to upload my reports and work--process over performance, you know. Despite a phone call to the boss on the previous day that drew praise and promises of follow-up on a request for information for a big client I was developing, the the anvil dropped on my head like the hapless coyote in the Roadrunner cartoons.

You're out, with 5.34 vacation days and a week's severance. Don't let the door pop you on the ass on your way out. Except, I work from home. So here amid the clutter of a job I no longer have, I ponder the point.

When I turned in my company computer, I also turned in the ten new orders I'd completed, and the seven that were in process. 

The final straw for me: the lack of courage on the part of my boss, and absence of even a phone call or e-mail acknowledging my work.

What a chicken shit.