The Tourist gets fired….
So Wednesday started off normally enough. After my recent 6 month review, I’ve been trying much harder to get to work early everyday. The highway I take is really a just a big parking lot filled with what seems to be asian women behind the wheel of every car.
So after staving off death every morning on my way to work, I usually arrive a bit frazzled. This morning was no different. I hustle up to the building, and whip out my access card to get in.
I try several times in vain, but no dice. Theres no one inside yet (I get into the office around 6:50am) I look around, and there isnt anyone coming. Cripes. I head to the main door to have security in the lobby let me in. If I move quickly, I can still clock in before 7am.
I get to the main lobby entrance and pound on the doors. I can barely make out the profile of the head of security through the tinted doors. Chris is a big guy, 6’3, 250. Former football player. Nice guy. He opens up the door, and stands in my way.
“Hey Chris, uh, mind if I get in?”
He has this look on his face. The look someone might get if they just had to put a litter of puppies to sleep.
“Uh, yeah man. Come on in.”
Something is up. Something big. Theres another security guard in the lobby. He’s standing in front of the door to get into the office. Arms folded. Chris goes behind the receptionists desk, and puts a big box on top of it.
Its my stuff. ALL OF IT. Every single picture, CD, award, every personal item I had at my desk is in that box. My heart just fell into my asshole.
“Chris, what the fuck is going on man. Why is all my shit in that box?!”
He takes a deep breath. “Sorry bro, but I’ve been instructed not to let you in. I dont know why, they didnt tell me. All I know is that the lobby is as far as you can go. Here’s your stuff.”
“Am I fucking fired?!”
I cant believe this. I’ve put in 10 months at this place. After all my hard work, busting my ass week in and week out, they pack my shit in a box and tell some security guard to kick me off the lot.
“I dont know man. Probably. If you want, you can call Rick at HR and talk to him.”
Rick is one of the HR big wigs. I’ve never talked to the guy, but I know the name.
Chris dialed him up and handed me the phone.
“What can I do for you Chris?”
“Rick, this is Tyler Riggs. I’m down in the lobby right now, with all my stuff in a box. Security wont let me in the building. Whats going on??”
“Tyler, I’m sorry to say it, but we had to end your employment here. I cant give you all the details right now, but your boss approved the termination a week ago. We’ll contact you in a few days with the details. As for right now, you’ll need to leave the premicise. I’m sorry.”
I hung up the phone. My jaw was on the ground. Chris shook his head.
“Yeah, thats too bad man. I had to do a million of these when the market bottomed out 5 years ago. I’ll walk you to your car.”
I carried my stuff out, threw it in my trunk. I wont begin to describe everything that was running through my head, I dont have the time. I hopped in, and got back on the highway. It was about 7:20 by now. Then my phone rang. It was my BOSS. Oh man, do I have a thing or two to say to HIM.
“Yeah. Where are you?”
*FUMING MAD* I maintained my cool. “I’m on the highway right now.”
“I thought you said you were going to be better about getting to work on time?”
“I stopped by your desk, and a bunch of your stuff was gone. I thought for a second you quit! *laugh* Glad to know you’re on your way.”Â *click*
I. wait. security. Rick in HR. my card.
Then it all fell into place.
In that moment in my car, on that packed highway, it all came together.
Jugdish could have easily revoked or changed my access to the building. Chris’s wife works at the IT Help Desk with Jugdish and John. Rick at HR? Doubtful. Chris must have dialed someone else pretending to be a bigwig. They must have cleared my desk off last night after everyone went home.
I pulled back in. I sat in my car for a moment, soaking it all in. This was incredible. They thought of everything. I was totally convinced. Revoking my access to the building, stopping me in the lobby, packing all my shit up. Standard procedure for a termination.
I am never, ever, messing with a tech guy again. I called up John.
“John, its Riggs.”
His voice raised a little.
“Oh, hey RIGGS. Whats up man?”
“Put Jugdish on the phone RIGHT NOW.”
He cracked up. I could hear several techs cackling like hyenas in the background, “is it him?! does he know?! what did he say?!”
*snickes* “Ello. Dis eez Jugdish. Ow may I help you?”
“I am shipping your Pakistani ass back toÂ that goat farm you call a country you red dot havin, no bathin, sonofabitch.”
What a fucking morning.