So obviously I am treating this scenario as if I am fired. Because I clearly am. They're just doing it the chickenshit way. By revenge I'm thinking more along the lines of how one might waste the time of telemarketers and scammers. Nothing serious or significant, but enough to cause them anywhere from frustration to rage. Regret would be nice too. Really, just the Manager. Everyone else was fine. There was definitely a personal vendetta involved.
Right now I'm thinking like a neverending medical mystery? “Went to doc, wrists are better but my C reactive protein is a little elevated. Supposed to see the rheumatologist next week…” via text, for forever until he straight fires me? Or constant ooeygooey stupid annoying texts: miss you guys sooo much how's business? Oh I had another cool idea like what if we put in a water feature but instead of water it's salsa??? All in tiny short sentences. Sending 15+ at a time? I DO NOT WANT TO HURT THE BUSINESS IN ANY WAY! Just the MEANager! (Ha see what I did there?) But anyways all ideas are appreciated and might provide a much-needed laugh.
So now the story:
TL;DR: I'm off the schedule and have no firm date when I could be back on. Manager tries to make me look like a dick, shared my medical info with owners against my wishes (I wanted to tell them.) Hired my replacement approx 4 hours after I sent the doc letter, the conditions of which could have been satisfied with no schedule changes, hiring/firing, really minimal disruption. Despite the fact that I am off the schedule beyond even the doc orders and have already been replaced, I am “not fired”.
LONG BUT NOT CRAZY LONG TOTES READABLE:: I'm perfect but Manager doesn't like me anyways. I get an ouchy booboo and doctor says minor activity modification for 2 weeks. It could be accomplished by people who already flip things with spatulas doing so slightly more, and I do some lettuce stuff that they usually take care of. No schedule change, no hours changed, no biggie. I sent Manager the doc note at 2:02 pm. By 6:15, I was off the schedule for forever (not just 2 weeks), until a doc clears me to come back (though I was never un-cleared to begin with…) Any suggestion I had where I could still work involved (according to manager): firing or laying off other employees, cutting their hours, or (illegally!!!) changing the schedule and having people work a shift they weren't originally hired to do (um not true and also not illegal even if it were.)
I didn't get to talk to the owners or my coworkers or brainstorm solutions. It was me vs manager (who had told owners I don't know what since I was left out of the discussion 1. I specifically asked to be a part of because 2. It was about my personal medical information, and I was the only person at the actual doctor appointment…which is probably Why 3. I asked manager not to share it with anyone without me there to explain in more detail than a 2 sentence doctor letter.
Oh but also they hired a new cook to replace me. Literally four hours after I sent in the note. But here's the good news: I'm “not fired”!
A FEW FUN TEXT EXCHANGES:
Me: So I'm fired?
Manager: No. You are not fired.
Me: But I'm not on the schedule or working any hours?
Manager: Just know we need you and feel horrible for your pain** in your hands. But I cannot fire or lay off other employees because of a pirextion condition you have.
Me:I didn't ask you to fire or lay off anyone.
(** pain is fine. I'm not a whiny little b. But when that pain indicates I might be oncurring permanent nerve damage to arguably the most important body part?)
Me: [a long heartfelt apologetic text. trying hard & working hard, doing yucky Charlie work, trying to get his morning prep done every night.. Beg him please, if he won't do [teensy inconvenience to let me keep my job] can I at least work closing shift with other coworker? I feel terrible, like I always annoy you, upset you, feel like you don't like me.. This is 3rd time bawling my eyes out because I feel like I always disappoint him and do everything wrong and how I was so happy when I got this job…it was pretty much my dream job…and how I am so so sad that this is how it is turning out…]
Manager: fucking stone cold silencedoesn't seem to give a crap about his nonslip shoes in the growing pool of blood we're standing in cuz I just poured out my whole freakin' heart, grabbed it straight outta my chest leaving a sputtering bloody waterfall nobody would chase and dropped to my knees tears streaming down my face holding it up to him, my tiny little heart that was full of good and hope and naivety and tacos, now all tattered and scritch-scratched and barely quivering and so so empty and vulnerable but he just turns and leaves as unaffected as if it was a half-drank cola forgotten on a schoolbus on a warmer than average day…
Me, a final, last-breath effort: So it's not ok for me to work from 3 to close either?
Manager: And do what?** I have a cook. I have Pete. I have DeShawn.
Me:I didn't know you already hired a new cook.
Manager: which one do I send home? They need hours too.
Me:I didn't know you already hired somebody to replace me. Obviously I would not ask you to cut someone else's hours. That's not fair.
(ah I see. I am nothing to you. Utterly useless. I guess I'll just leave this here, then. I toss my wittle broken heart-meats down on the floor where it squeaks a cute little sad squeak in b minor and bounces a couple times, finally stopping sideways in such a position that it can see me walk away, but I don't give my tiny scritchscratched hurting heart even one last glance because what good has it ever done me, and that little pile of heart-meat has an even tinier heart inside and that one breaks too cuz it knows it's true and this gutterfloor bloodblanket feels all too familiar)