How Did I Get Anywhere?

I was talking to someone about work, the economy and other happy subjects when the subject of getting laid off came up. I thought a minute about it and I realized that since 1991 I have been laid off 4 times (FOUR! Twice from the same company!) and fired twice from various positions. I really have a stellar record there don't I? Sheesh. But what I thought I'd discuss here is the first of the 2 firings (since the second one is pretty run-of-the-mill stuff).

In 1991 (on my birthday actually! Happy birthday to me!) I started a job at Copy Cop (oh, by the way, Copy Cop doesn't make copies anymore! Weird right? At least I don't think they do. Their website seems to be more geared towards digital print and computer stuff). I knew some people who worked there already and it seemed like an ok place to work for a guy with no marketable skills.

I worked at the store on Milk St. (corner of Broad St.) which I don't think is there anymore. The manager guy was a bit of a schmuck (ok, he was a complete schmuck) and we had our differences. By 1993 I ended up getting transferred to a different store (oy, I just remembered that they called them "precincts". God, that's so asinine) where although I was no longer working with a dummy, I still wasn't thrilled about my position. I somehow got it in my head that I should be a supervisor and/or manager-in-training or some shit. I really thought that Copy Cop was missing the boat on the Mark O'Malley braintrust working for them in Precinct 2! They disagreed.


The manager of the Milk St. store as
envisioned by Dave Blanchette

So because of this I decided that it was time to look elsewhere in the reprographic industry. I saw an ad for a manger position in Harvard Sq. working for the arch enemy of Copy Cop: Kinko's. The job interview was set up and all I had to do was get the day off, charm the pants off of those folks at Kinko's and then I'd be running my own store! Please keep in mind at all times that I had ABSOLUTELY no management skills/training/instinct what-so-ever. But the job I had being a shitty job had very little in the way of benefits (bennies don't come at $7.50/hr) so I had to either call in sick on the interview day (which was a Monday and therefore would call into question the validity of a 23-year-old calling in sick) or come up with a masterful excuse as to why I needed Monday off.

I decided to fake a funeral. Yep. I'm a class act all the way.

On the Wednesday before the interview I went to the manager of the store and told him that my uncle had died and I think the funeral would be on Monday. I told him that I'd have to confirm it with my mom and I'd let him know the next day if I did in fact need the Monday off. I thought that that would somehow make it seem more authentic. I don't know why I thought that anyone would even question the date of a funeral but once again I call your attention to my tiny brain. The next day I told him that yes I would in fact need to take Monday off but I'd be back on Tuesday.

Cut to the weekend. That weekend the "Storm of the Century" was barreling up the coast towards us and when it got here it dumped a stupid amount of snow and generally made life annoying (especially since it came in March when I'm just starting to allow myself to think that maybe winter will please fuck off for a while. But of course it doesn't. March is cruel like that). So, blah, blah, blah it snowed and was windy and crap like that. Monday comes and I go to the interview and completely blow it. Nice one O'Malley.

The next day I drag my sorry ass into work and when I get there, the manger dude (who's name I can't remember...) calls me into his office. That's weird I thought but whatever, I'll go see what's up. He starts off with "How was the funeral?" That's an odd question but I answer, "Y'know, ok I guess." (I have an amazing grasp of the English language) He then says "Oh, ok. Um, your mom called..." and he just let it hang there. It was like the words "your mom called" were still echoing off the walls of the office. Like they were physical entities running around the room crashing into furniture and knocking over things. So I replied, "Oh, really?" Brilliant comeback I'm sure you'll agree. He said "Yeah, she wanted to know how you faired this weekend with the big snow storm and all. I told her that you were at a funeral. With her." Oh lordy. Yep. My MOM called my JOB to see how I was. She NEVER did that before. EVER. Soooo busted.

And then he fired me. Meh, fair enough.

As I was stamping my time card for the last time I thought to myself that 1) god, I'm a dumb-ass 2) lesson learned: if you're going to use someone as your alibi, let them know. 3) don't tempt fate by pretending to go to a funeral when you're not. Oh, and call your mom when it snows a lot.