Sunday, January 06, 2008
Flush the "Right Thing"
Why does doing "the right thing" have the most appeal and the worst consequences?
I left my old place of work in protest against how my friend was fired. In a place where there's little in the way of clear-cut policy, a lot of stuff gets excused or shoved under the table and easily forgotten-- like the man's contributions, in part. Or the fact that some of the bases for the charges against him were the same stopgap measures he took on his quest to help the company out-- measures that the policy makers approved of at that time. But if it wasn't written down, then it didn't happen.
When you fire the one and only winner of the [Mr Helpful] award, there's something very very very wrong. Even if he was being muley in the end.
Higher admin did give me an explanation-- not that I asked for one, and not as if it was legally obligated to do so to me, but it was a gesture I greatly appreciated. It didn't change my decision, but it made leaving harder. I waited a full month between my decision to leave and my actual leavetaking-- there were loose ends to tie up and covenants I had to uphold.
It'll come as a surprise to some of you but I do have some honor.
There were other reasons for leaving the job of course. I was living with my friend and I did not want to drive a spike between him and his wife, who I love dearly. (She quit the job the same day he was fired.) I was also hitching my wagon to someone else's shooting star-- someone's dream that was going in the same direction mine was. I could have held my ground and stayed but I wasn't prepped for the difficulties that decision would have entailed... or so I thought.
It's been difficult to finance the insurance policy I took out some days before my friend was fired. This took longer to happen, but I also lost a girlfriend-- probably the sweetest most loving one since I was engaged to my ex-wife.
In my Universe, Personal trumps everything. This is probably why I still have friends and probably why I'll likely never ever be rich.