He worked at a French bakery where he was frequently racially discriminated against, so he brought it up to HR. A hostile workplace ensued and his primary manager started making up rumors about him trying to steal the head chef’s job and that I was encouraging him to film and make accusations so he had a case to get permanent residency papers. I don’t work there or know if that’s even grounds for an immigration case.
Management promised meetings with him for a few months before he finally realized they weren’t going to do anything to change. So, on Friday, right before Mother’s Day, when typically their bakery sells out, their restaurant overflows, and they have a little less than a hundred pre-orders, he told them it would be his last day.
“But, no! You can’t do that! What will happen this weekend?” his manager asked. “We have so many orders and-“
He cut her off and looked her squarely in the eye, pausing a second before saying, “Barbara. I don’t care. You didn’t help me when I asked for it. So I don’t care.”
Ahh. Justice.
He is much happier at his new job.