Riff
I’m tempted to look up what I called my idiot editorial assistant from years ago.
Anyway I was thinking about him today.
He was so not fit for the job. Like, his redeeming quality was that he was willing to drive to BFE without complaint.
Rather than fire him for performance, we did the kindest thing we could.
We eliminated the position.
I did so knowing that I couldn’t advertise or fill the position for a year.
I never did. At least, not till 2021. I think that was a good five years.
I don’t know if that was company policy or some broader best practice. But we said the position is being taken out of the budget. Here’s some severance. Feel free to have future employers call HR for your reference.
I thought that was beyond fair.
I think about when I was shitcanned last. They listed my failures. Nine of them.
TBH, I agreed with a few. But they compensated me generously. So, I got no beef. I can be paid to go away. Especially since I knew I stood a good chance of getting my old job back. Where I am much happier anyway.
In any event, I treated dipshit better than he deserved. Never heard a peep from him as a result.
Good.
It amazes me what I learned young that people damn near twice my age should know.
My friends and I used to marvel at “When did we become NOT the riff-raff?”
These days, I wonder, “Does anyone KNOW what value we bring? Or could, if you truly let us?”
I still wish I had been able to adjust salaries, titles and benefits for some. Exit packages for others. And parting words for one.
Live and learn. And teach, or at least try.