True Story©... That Ol' Time Spending

 

    For the sake of moving this along... The weeks between December 17rd and February 7st was one of the most trying periods of my life and involved not one but THREE visits to the hospital, once through the ER. The months since have been a minefield of minding how I live and follow-up visits. If you know, you know... If you don't, well you get it.

    The way my off time goes at my full time job, I am allotted 248 hours a year of off time in one bank for use for both vacation and sick time. I am allowed to roll over up to 40 hours at the end of the year, and that is a wise thing to have banked on some just-in-case shit. 18 years with the company, I've always had at least 25-30 hours to roll as a cushion until my allotment begins to build back up. This time, however, that late-year hospital stay set fire to nearly ALL of my leave time and I approached January with only like two hours.
Because of this, I've spent the first half of this year SUPER gun-shy about just up and TAKING time for no reason as I have in years past. On doctor/specialist days, I have taken only the number of hours I need to get to and from the visit and not wasting a minute more.

    Week before last, I looked at my absence balance in WorkDay and noticed that with time already taken and future absences approved I would have 163 hours at the end of the year, thereby forfeiting 123 hours if I don't get on the ball soon.
I decided to start planning on taking on some Mental Health Days™ and chose a random Wednesday off...

    Preparing for my day off I threw back to an old thing I used to do, and applied like a MADMAN for jobs I may or not be overqualified for with no intention of taking -- or keeping -- the job. I took all the phone calls that came until one scheduled the interview for my planned day off.
I showed to the interview with my resumé on nice cardstock, in conservative black slacks and white dress shirt, ready to interview.

    I would be inclined to think that the interview was going well, an apparent testament to my pokerface knowing good and damned well they had virtually no chance of prying me from the seniority, pay grade and THIRTY ONE days of annual leave that I currently enjoy.
Naturally, the interview came to the place in the proceedings that I had planned as my "out" the whole time...

Interviewer: "So... Why did you leave your most recent employer?"

Me: "Ugh, I knew you'd ask me that."

Interviewer: "Sore topic?"

Me: "Indeed. I was let go."

    I was lying like shit... I'm going back to work tomorrow morning, but I'm carrying this one to completion.

Interviewer: "Are you able to expound?"

Me: "Okay, so... You know how some people take corporate league softball ENTIRELY too seriously? Well that was kinda me.

I was on the team and we were actually kind of competitive because I'm a strong hitter. Well, this one woman biffs on a play that costs us a game we otherwise had in hand. I totally crashed out on her and called her a 'stupid fucking cunt' loud enough for everyone in attendance to hear -- kids and all. Come to find out on Monday morning that the woman in question was an AVP's wife. Needless to say, my desk was already packed up for me and I wasn't even allowed to clock in."

    The look on his face was that of absolute HORROR, like the kind of mortified look that suggests he has been told the absolute WILDEST thing he has ever heard in an interview. Me? Completely straight faced, but somehow worried that he will start laughing and force me to break character.
He nervously shuffled the papers in front of him...

Interviewer: "Can you wait right here for a minute?"

Me: "Sure!"

    He leaves the office and closes the door behind him. I can hear him in what I think is another office a little down the hall talking to what I assume is another member of management or HR. It's not like a standoff or at all confrontational, but it is--... frenetic.
At least for a moment. It gets quiet for a second, then I SWEAR I hear laughter for a couple of moments before they get quiet and I hear footsteps approaching the office I'm in again, then the door opens.

Me: "Everything okay?"

Interviewer: "We're going to have to ask you to leave."

Me: "Wow, okay. I get it."

    I was led out of the office and to the front exit, where I went out into the surface-of-the-sun summer heat without even a handshake.  Nobody on this whole walk of shame even made eye contact with me.
I hopped in the truck and headed home to change clothes and load up my trailer and equipment to do a couple of yards. Periodically, I think of that interview and chuckle to myself.  Wife Person™ asks "what's funny?" and I can't even tell her.

I should be ashamed of myself for wasting them folks time, but I abandoned shame years ago.