Rising to the Occasion of the Not Fun Job

Today, I was reading my daughter's blog about her journey through Europe on a site called Tumblr.com   Her blog is: http://somewherebynow.tumblr.com/.

The site is full of bloggers, people who just post photos and businesses that showcase books, etc.  After reading her blog, I transitioned to look at other blogs and I was surprised to find a site called, please fire me

The site is a whole list of people writing about their job and how someone or something is making it so miserable that they want to be fired.  An example of the postings:

Please fire me. I was told that I couldn’t have the promotion I was after because I am not “mean enough.”

Please fire me. My manager is 18 weeks pregnant and still follows me outside on my smoke breaks to steal drags off my cigarette.

Please fire me. I’m a teacher at school and our librarian says “Arthur” instead of “author” as well as “lie-berry” for “library”.

Please Fire Me

My first emotional response was to say to myself, "then why don't you quit?"  Why so complacent?  Just risk it and walk out!!!

Because.  I remembered my friend who was fired and looked for employment for two months.  And I remembered my friend who is looking for a new job, but after six months, still hasn't found one.

I believe that the Please Fire Me is sort of a cross between Dear Abby and a HR complaint blog.  It is  definitely a place for people to vent.  It is absolutely an HR Lawyer's dream come true of workplace violations.  But, it is also a place to feel better by feeling bad.  The new world of sharing your feelings and then feeling relieved? Or the world of sharing your feelings and feeling like now, you should share all the time?  The world of sharing your feelings but not doing anything about it?  Notice the last two aren't "new".

So, let us see where the unhappy at work person is.  Stuck for a paycheck. Stuck for another (have to pay for Mom, Dad, Kid). Stuck because change is scary.  Stuck because no one wants me.

Stuck. Please Fire Me.

The friend of mine who was fired certainly didn't like it.  He took it personal and thought of it as a failure. And I am pretty sure he never said, please fire me with any conviction. Wanting to get fired and getting fired are different.  Very different.

I was fired.  Twice.  Once, I was a maid at the age of 16 in Clearwater, Florida. I was a terrible maid.  I was fired for not vacuuming the vents in the Holiday Inn.  But, I was a terrible maid.

And the other time, I was "redirected"  for a political appointment reason, when the boss said, "We are going in a different direction, and so are you", he added, "you can resign or you can be redirected". It was not wholly unexpected, but it was not warranted nor, in my opinion, deserved.  My boss at that time was later fired for harassment, sexual and otherwise.  So, while I was devastated, I also felt vindicated.

Back to the Please Fire Me.  Who are you really?  A young person, going to "stick it to the man" as my daughter says. (For the record, she stole that from my generation.) An unhappy worker who wishes they were somewhere else or just in a bad situation? Someone who just believes that their worth and talent aren't recognized nor rewarded?

I can tell you after 43 years of working (oh my, McDonald's was my first job in 1973), there will always be a day or two or ten, when you say, fire me please.  People are emotional, not very professional, way too professional, controlled, uncontrolled, wild, crazy, boring, extreme, loved, unloved, even at work.

People do not stop being people when they are at work. If the job is just a means to an end, then your profile probably projects that.  If the job is a passion, then you probably hope that you are a part of undercover boss and winning some giant reward.

But for most of us, we must weigh the stress of  an organization and those who are in it, and the angst of quitting.  Like Dear Abby said so long ago, "are you better off with em or without em?" So the Please Fire Me  is a way to bridge the gap of contemplation.  But what is it saying to us?

If you are an employer, it should tell you that your employees, contractors or others are not happy.  If you are an employer, you should listen.  It may not affect you today, but it will affect you eventually. Look at the research by Association Leaders.  It will tell you that leadership is the biggest key in the direction of the workplace.  Leadership sets the mood, the goals, the opportunities and the limitations.  If they are not set with the workforce in mind, then the workforce will slowly turn to the Please Fire Me people.  The problem is, they will be yours and affect your organization's future - online for all to see.

 "Entropy is a measure of the number of specific ways in which a system may be arranged, often taken to be a measure of disorder....." says wiki. 

 And Please Fire Me is definitely one measure of entropy disorder.  

My Daughter's View of Spain versus Florida and Colorado Rising to the Andorra Mountains

"The ride to Andorra was likely the most beautiful countryside I’ve seen on this trip. If Barcelona is the Miami of Europe, Andorra is the Colorado. The Pyrenees jut out, rocky and elegant. The sky was cornflower blue and the land was red and arid at first, but grew increasingly grey and green. Little villages dotted farmland here and there; the Newberry and Monticello and Madison of Spain. Skeletons of abandoned houses stood here and there, quietly crumbling. An occasional larger town broke the monotony. Rivers broke the mountains apart, making swiftly for somewhere. Then there were long stretches of nothing. Nothing and dirt roads and electrical lines that ran as far the eye could see in both directions."

Rising to the Occasion of the Publix Interlude

There were many years when stopping by Publix on the way home was my social life.  Picking up three children from day care, then driving to the store was a moment of transition.  It let me move between work and home.  It let me make a plan for dinner.  It let me see people in a casual environment, while towing three behind me.  I would see other neighbors, mothers with kids in tow, work comrades, and of course the folks that worked there. Nothing like hanging out in the vegetable section, gabbing about someone's new baby over the carrots.

Flash forward and the kids are gone.  Guess what?  Publix continues to be a source of meeting and greeting my neighbors, my horse club friends, my co workers and the Publix employees.  Nothing like talking about your daughter's graduation over the organic yet packed in plastic, spinach boxes.

So, sauntering through the dairy section, a woman spots me and comes over for a hug.  She is a FB friend and a former employee.  She is happy to see me; she is one of those enthusiastic happy to see you everywhere, people.  Her smile is bigger than Texas and her hug equally so.  We are catching up on family, while I secretly eyeball the discount shelf. She asks about my only daughter.  I tell her she is backpacking through Europe for two and half months, she graduated form UF, she has not decided on her life and I am scared.  She is going to be alone for many weeks.  somewhere by now is her blog, which I can tell you doesn't make me feel better.  I tell her that her father is joining her in Croatia and that I will join her in Paris.  We are chatting and  a voice comes from behind the discount rack, "Oh my gosh, she will be fine, don't worry a second!"

And we look around and this woman comes out to tell us her story.  Her daughter fell in love here in Tallahassee.  She dated and then the young man decided to go back to his first girl friend.  The daughter is distraught and calls Mom and says, "I am selling everything and I leaving for Europe for as long as I can."

Her cart full of cheese and chips, she stops to tell us her daughter's story.  She left after the break up, touring Europe for a few months.  She lived mostly in hostels and then several nights on the streets.  Not good decisions, the mother says.  My daughter went right after the 9/11 attack.  " I was terrified and begged her to wait. She emailed me every two days.  And at some point, I needed to believe she would be okay.  And I did." Then she told us that something changed.  The young man realized the mistake.  He flew to Paris to propose.  Or maybe he flew to Rome.  I sort of forgot where he went, because this is a movie moment.  And now, they have two children and are celebrating their 10 year anniversary.  Romance, success, love and a grandmother.  Gotta love Publix.

It reminded me of my sister's visit so many years ago.  My then boyfriend had dumped me.  I took my dog to the vet, and the vet said,  "why don't you go stay at my farm in Indiana and meet my nephew?"  I was planning on going, but then, I got a job.  My sister chose to go, thinking she would be a writer, living on a farm.  Well, that story ends with three beautiful children.  And my family had many fun years in Indiana.  I bet she had many years in the local store, picking up the children and visiting with the neighbors.  Farm communities arer different, but all mom's yacking is the same.

The last three Publix stories I have to tell you are about cancer and worse.

I saw a person that I used to work with standing in the check out line a few years ago.  I said, "Hi, oh my gosh, you cute your hair!"  When I saw her, I reached up and touched it and said how cute the cut looks.  The hair clumped in my hand and fell on the floor in the check out line.  Her chemo was kicking in and her hair was falling out.  Breast Cancer.  She died ten weeks later.  I hated that moment.  I loved her courage standing in a check out line trying to do normal things while she knew she was dying. This story is ten years old.  Flash forward.

A fellow horse mom lost a child.  The disease was sudden and so sad.  Back then, I did not have the back bone or skills to say hello to a mom across the vegetable isle.  How does the social chat work in a grieving situation?  How do you look at her across the carrots and express your empathy?  I failed.

Next, I saw a woman in the vegetable isle, who I knew had breast cancer treatment.  She is also a horse person.  A brave, creative, fun, energetic, person.  I told her about my daughter, and she said, "oh my, Peggy, be so happy for her that you can afford it, that she can do it, she is having the adventure of her life!"  And I worried about terrorists and bombs.  She is finishing chemo and terrorists can't scare a cancer fighter.  Especially one that fights like a girl.

Who is safe, who is not, how can we be better, stronger, protect them more.  I am asking all of you to look into their eyes.  If they are busy and on the way home, then good.  But if they are slow, if they are teary, don't turn away.  Stop.  What most people want it comfort and safety.  Hug them and tell them that they are confirmed.  You don't have to agree.  You just have to validate who they are and how they feel.

So here is to the stores, the visits, the Mom's on the way home. Next time you see her, every her and any her, ask her how she is doing.  I bet she needs to tell you.  And you need to hear her.  And best of all, you might hear some good advice about your life.  None of knows when our daughters will leave for Paris or when cancer will strike.  Ladies, take heed.