They Are the Jello!

One more thing on the India Project that is a pretty good representation of Boss and his progressive thinking:

Two days after the India Project was announced, we had a big meeting with Art, Production, Editorial and all of the high ups. I was a couple minutes late to the meeting and I ended up having to sit on the floor, which was another contributing factor to my decision to leave. Anyway, Boss is at the front of the room, trying to sell everyone on what a great idea the whole plan is. He talks about the vendor in India and how they’ll do whatever we tell them to do. He then presents this classic analogy:

Boss: “Just think of it like this: They are the Jello and we are the mold. We can mold them to be whatever we want them to be.”

I mean really, how could I compete with that?!

And Now the Conclusion...

January 8, 2010

I arrived home from a lunch date with several former coworkers to find a message from The Unemployment Office on my voicemail.

It went something like this: “Hi Katherine, this is Jean (not her real name) from the State Unemployment Office. I’m processing your unemployment claim and I just received the paperwork back from your former employer. Their paperwork says that you resigned, so I’m just trying to figure out exactly what happened and I need to talk to you. Please call me as soon as you can.”

I stood there, staring at the phone in disbelief. Part of me really thought that there was no way Prison Media would actually go through with it. Snap, they proved me wrong. Again!

I promptly picked up the phone and dialed the digits. Now, I’m thinking it’s in my best interest to keep the specifics of that conversation under wraps. I will say that Jean was very helpful and quite confused by the paperwork she had received from Prison Media. We had a long conversation, I faxed her some very relevant paperwork and that was the end of that.

I now had to wait for a decision.

On January 13, the decision arrived in the form of a letter. It appeared that a decision had been made very quickly, as I had only spoken to Jean a few days earlier.

The letter said: “It has been determined that you are eligible for benefits.”

YOU ARE ELIGIBLE FOR BENEFITS!

Have sweeter words ever been typed on a piece of paper?

I prevailed in the war after all. Victory was mine. In the end, every change-up they threw at me was belted out of the park. Every lie they told me was exposed. And every time I thought that I couldn't spend one more minute of my life at that place, I persevered and pulled it off. In fact, I won it all and I became a better person as a result.

Being awarded unemployment was a gigantic victory on all levels, but mostly it was a huge moral victory. I could finally move on and officially put the Prison Media era behind me. Although, something tells me I’ll still be discussing this experience well into this decade. But that’s OK.

I’m a big fan of taking something positive from every experience, no matter how horrible the experience is. With that in mind, and as a conclusion to the India Project, here’s what has been permanently etched into my mind:

• The only person looking out for you is you.
• Just because other people are lying, cheating and classless, doesn’t mean that you have to play the game on their level.
• When all else fails, base your next move on a card game.
• Be a firm believer in what goes around comes around.
• Sometimes the good guys do win.
• When calling any customer service number, if you get someone from India on the line, promptly hang up.
• In some parts of the world, sick dogs matter more than sick people.
• The term "boss" is used very loosely at Prison Media.
• Most times the Husband is right and knows when congratulations are in order.
• An iPod playlist named "Fight Songs" can get you through anything. ANYTHING.

Please keep reading “Kate Off the Clock.” Going forward, I’ll be writing regular, stand-alone posts on my thoughts and experiences in corporate America. Thanks for all of the support; I greatly appreciate it.

In the words of the great 90s alternative band, The Connells, from the song "Find Out," which is, of course, on the Fight Songs playlist:

You gotta pull it off

When we least expect it.

Gotta pull it off...

Then we'll find out

What this is really all about.

Then I'll be the one who says

"I don't believe it."

Then we'll find you

Like you'd always want us to,

Face first in your own favorite way.

It's Times Like These You Learn to Live Again —Foo Fighters

December 11, 2009, noon.

I pulled out of the parking lot with the Foo Fighters "Times Like These" blasting. I looked straight ahead and suddenly felt so carefree and liberated. I didn't know what the future would bring, but I knew I would never look back. It was exactly 2 weeks until Christmas and I would actually be able to enjoy the holidays for the first time in years.

I arrived at home and promptly fell asleep on the couch. I couldn't recall ever being this mentally and emotionally exhausted in my life. I still had the very large unemployment issue lurking in the background, but that would have to wait until 2010.

I started to make a list in my head of the key, defining moments of the India Project that really steered me towards getting the hell out of there:

1. Being laid off over the phone.

2. The moral bankruptcy of the decision to send my job to India.

3. The assumption that I would stay.

4. My history with Boss.

5. Mentor being offered my job.

6. My unwavering integrity being tested.

In the end, my beliefs weren't compromised. I walked out with my head high and my pride intact. After 15 years working in corporate America, this was my biggest victory, my single most impressive accomplishment.

Times Like These

lyrics by the Foo Fighters

I'm a one way motorway
I'm the one that drives away
Then follows you back home
I'm a street light shining
I'm a wild light blinding bright
Burning off alone

It's times like these you learn to live again
It's times like these you give and give again
It's times like these you learn to love again
It's times like these time and time again

I'm a new day rising
I'm a brand new sky
To hang the stars upon tonight
I am a little divided
Do I stay or run away
And leave it all behind?

It's times like these you learn to live again
It's times like these you give and give again
It's times like these you learn to love again
It's times like these time and time again

Oatmeal and Insanity

So, there I was, sitting in HR Robot's office, unsure of how to proceed. We kept arguing back and forth and we just weren't getting anywhere. She gave me the paperwork to sign and I said I needed to think about signing it. I headed back to my office, feeling defeated. I might have won the battle, but they appeared to be winning the war. And if you know me, you know that losing just isn't my style.

I was so annoyed that I couldn't just walk out the door with no strings attached and nothing left to settle. Instead, I got hit between the eyes with a curve ball and I knew I had a fight in front of me. So, the first thing I did was call the Husband:

Husband: "Are you done?!"

Me: "You're not going to believe this. The company is claiming that I resigned and that's what they're going to report to unemployment."

Husband: "WHAT?! Go back to HR Robot right now and tell her no way, that doesn't work for you."

Me: "Yeah, I already tried that. It's a done deal. Should I sign this separation agreement?"

Husband: "Yes, sign it and get the hell out of there. We'll figure out the details later."

Not getting unemployment didn't mean that we would end up homeless. But it was definitely something I was counting on and it played a part in my decision to walk. I couldn't help but think I was maybe not given all of the necessary information related to making an informed decision. And yes, I believe that was intentional. I had a picture in my mind of the evil players, sitting around a table, brainstorming ways to stick it to me for leaving. And whoa, did they come up with something good.

However, I wasn't going to let Prison Media ruin this moment and they weren't going to mess up my victory lap. I quickly went through the building, saying final goodbyes. I checked my office one last time and made sure that I had taken everything that belonged to me. My laptop was wiped clean; all personal files and emails deleted. There was no trace of my existence left in the building. And yet, I couldn't shake those four words "Well, since you resigned..."

I just kept coming back to the insanity of the entire saga. What kind of company lays off an employee, outsources her job out of the country, lies to her face, offers her job to numerous other people, puts her through hell and then plays the resignation card and screws her out of the unemployment that she is owed? I had seen and heard a lot of unbelievable things in the last 3 weeks, but this? This was simply the worst of the worst. The phrase "Well, since you resigned..." had been permanently burned into my frontal lobes. I would never forget those words. Ever.

I finally picked up a pen and signed on the dotted line. I made myself a copy, and went back to HR Robot's office. I handed her my paperwork, my building key and key card and asked her to come to my office and do an inventory check on my equipment so I could pound the pavement and never look back. She walked down the hall with me and looked over my laptop and monitor. She then glanced around my office and spied a packet of oatmeal on a table in the corner.

HR Robot, holding up the packet of Quaker: "Oh wait, is this your oatmeal?"

Me, grabbing the oatmeal and tossing it into the trash: "Yep."

HR Robot: "OK, you're good to go." And off she went.

And I stood there for a second and thought, "Wow, after 10 years at this company, the last significant words spoken to me were 'Is this your oatmeal?'"

And off I went.

Game. Set. Match?

December 11, 2009

11 a.m.

I walked into HR Robot's office for what was supposed to be an exit interview. All I had to do was get through this meeting, answer her ridiculous questions, sign on the dotted line and walk out the door into a brand new world.

The first few minutes were just fine: Did I have my computer equipment ready to turn in? Did I understand the COBRA option? Was there anything else with the benefits that she needed to explain?

Without thinking much of the question, I asked her if I should file for unemployment right away or wait until my severance runs out.

Then, she uttered the most unbelievable words in this 3-week saga: "Well, since you resigned, you don't qualify for unemployment."

I think I initially thought she was kidding and I was kind of waiting for the laugh, or the slight punch in the arm or the wide grin. Nothing happened. Silence. I just sat there staring at her, my mouth hanging so far open a rabbit could have jumped in.

Finally, I managed to speak: "Um, remember how you laid me off and outsourced my job to India?"

HR Robot, as if she had prepared for this conversation since I first decided to leave: "Well, you could have stayed for the transition and you chose not to. So, that's resigning."

I was ready to jump across the desk and grab her by the hair: "Then why are you giving me severance and asking me to sign a separation agreement?"

HR Robot: "Well, that was already agreed upon. I'm reporting to unemployment that you resigned."

I quickly replayed the conversations from the last several weeks in my mind. She had specifically told me at the very beginning of this disaster, and on at least two other occasions, that I would qualify for unemployment. It was never "You qualify if…" or "You don't qualify should you…"

All of a sudden, there was a giant rock, a very hard place, and me. My mind was racing like an Indy car and my options seemed very limited.

I thought I had covered every base, prepared for every scenario, and written my own ending. And yet, there I was, stunned into next year, unable to do anything but stare at her in disbelief, and plot what I was going to do next. Had there been a mirror in HR Robot's office, I'm sure my own face would have scared me. I'm surprised I didn't combust on the spot and blow up the entire building.

At that point, there wasn't a whole lot I could do. In the final minutes of my employment, Prison Media decided to play their best card. I had been trumped.

The End of the Beginning

My final week at the company was almost eerily uneventful. I was blissfully happy and I even agreed to give them some of the requested documentation. I could have written a 200-page manual covering everything I had learned in 10 years. But, I think we all knew that wasn’t going to happen. Instead, I gave them 5 pages of documentation: a ½ page for each year. Seems fair enough, right?

On Tuesday of my last week, HR Robot sent me a meeting request for my exit interview, where I would have the opportunity to speak my mind and officially sign my exit paperwork. My last day was Friday, December 11 and she scheduled the meeting for 11 a.m. that morning. When I asked her if I was free to go after the meeting, she said no. Really? Yes, really, I was required to either work a full day, use vacation hours or get approval from Boss to leave early.

I was floored. What kind of company expects an employee to continue working AFTER signing an official release agreement? Aside from the obvious, which was sending me back to my desk with access to every file at the company and the disaster I could potentially create, it seemed like cruel and unusual punishment. It created yet another dilemma for me, as I wasn’t about to go ask Boss for anything and I refused to use vacation hours on principle.

I finally caved and called Boss and told him he had to do something for him. It went like this:

Me: “I need a favor.”

Boss: “Oh yeah, what’s the favor?”

Me: “I need to be done at noon on Friday and you need to approve it.”

Boss: “Well, I don’t know if I can do that.”

Me: “Well, you know that documentation you want me to write? I don’t know if I can do that if you don’t approve this.”

Boss: “Alright, that’s fine.”

Me: “OK, thanks.”

So, leading up to Friday, I tried to make myself scarce. I worked at home on Wednesday and Thursday and pulled into the parking lot for the last time on Friday morning. I felt pretty sad and I was annoyed that I felt that way. A very large chapter in my life was coming to a close and I think it all hit me at once when I walked into the building for the final time.

Well, it didn’t take long for things to go awry. Even though I had specifically told my coworkers that I didn’t want any hoopla, they ignored my request and I suddenly found myself standing in the break room surrounded by 25 people. The Best Art Director Ever made me a cool magazine cover with my photo and hilarious cover lines tailored to my current situation, which I absolutely loved.

And then the whole ship of fools sailed in: Boss, Queen Bee, the Warden, the VP, and Cruella de Vil. My favorite peeps were there too, so it wasn’t just me and a room full of villains. Anyway, I had to stand at the front of the room and do the required speech. I couldn’t say what I really wanted to say, but not staying for the transition kind of spoke for itself. Then we all pretended to like each other and snacked on cookies and fancy candies. Oh, and Boss attempted to shake my hand. And the VP told me she respected my decision. And then I headed to HR Robot’s office for the exit interview and the official signing of the paperwork.

I thought I was getting the last word at Prison Media, but it turns out they saved the ultimate wow factor, the startling kick in the ass, if you will, until the very last few minutes of my employment. I walked, with an extra hippy hop in my step, into the meeting. My freedom was only minutes away when suddenly everything took a detour to crazy town…

The Back Story on the India Project

I would be lying if I said that the last week in prison didn’t drain me emotionally. So much had happened in 2 weeks and once I finally decided to leave, the anger started to own me. The more I learned about the India Project, the more enraged I became. It seems as though this plan had been in place for almost a year and those that knew about it had been putting on Oscar-worthy performances.

When I kicked back and looked at 2009 as a whole, so much more suddenly made sense and I started to feel like the world’s biggest schmuck. I don’t believe in having regrets, as you can’t go back in time and change anything, so you might as well own your past and try to learn something from it. However, 2009 had easily been one of the worst years of my life and the main contributor was the job. Knowing what I know now, I wish, albeit briefly, that I could go back and redo some key things. Hell, I’d like to take a mulligan for all of 2009.

The India Project actually started in February. There was a day in February that brought mass layoffs to the company, and art and production was hit especially hard. Our department went from 9 employees to 5 employees in a matter of hours. Three were layoffs and one lucky person was reallocated to a different department. On top of all of that good news, the day ended with the introduction of Boss as the new manager of the department. Seeing how Boss wasn’t fit to manage an ant farm, those of us left were all very disgusted as well as highly suspicious.

Now, what this all meant for me is simple: I took on another person’s entire job and became the Production Manager of three monthly magazines, increasing my already busting at the seams workload by a third. Those of us left were asked to make the impossible possible, and we all succeeded. In hindsight, I wish I would have failed miserably, but I couldn’t have known what was to come.

It appears that the big plan for all of 2009 was this: Make the department as small as possible, yet still functional. Work the remaining people like migrant workers during harvest. Ignore their pleas and requests for help. As the end of the year approaches, send their jobs to India and never look back.

Perhaps I was picked to stay for the year because of my work ethic. The Warden and Queen Bee knew that I would get the work done because that’s who I am. I put a lot of pride in my work and I always did a great job. Who knew that would turn out to be such a bad thing? Apparently, I’m a diligent worker to a fault: I don’t know when to start doing a crappy job to prove a point.

The low point of 2009 was when I was diagnosed with pneumonia. It didn’t take someone with a medical degree to figure out the cause. I was working way too much and that’s the price I paid. Well, when I called Boss to tell him I had pneumonia, he had this very professional and intelligent response:

“I hope you still plan on working because there’s a lot of work to do and no one else to do it.” And that was the end of the pneumonia discussion. He never even asked me if I was feeling better, which was the proper thing to do not only as a boss, but also as a human being.

Here’s the ultimate clue on just what kind of person Boss is (in case you haven’t already drawn a picture in your mind):

About 3 weeks after I made the pneumonia call, Boss called in sick to work because… HIS DOG WAS SICK SO HE NEEDED TO STAY HOME!

Now, I’m going to steal a line from someone I worked with in the mid-90s. He was from Kentucky and had a certain drawl when he spoke. Whenever he talked about someone he didn’t much care for, his signature line was: “I wouldn’t piss in your asshole if your guts were on fire!” Seems kind of appropriate for a certain someone, no?

“Don't let the bastards grind you down” —Bono

As I was sitting in my office on December 3, watching the big picture come into focus, I suddenly realized that I needed to take control of the situation and write my own ending. It was no longer a money issue. It didn’t matter what they came back with, it wouldn’t be enough to put up with this back-door shadiness for the next 3 months. Plus, I knew they weren’t going to come back with anything, as that conversation never left Queen Bee’s office. She was merely buying some time to see who she could track down to bail them out of the very large black hole that was expanding by the minute. And wouldn’t you know it? They couldn’t find a single person willing to betray me and take a one-way ticket to hell.

I finally decided that I was done. Enough was enough and I couldn't live with myself if I didn't have the last word on this life-chagning debacle. And in that moment, I don’t know if I’ve ever felt such clarity about any decision in my life. I wrote a one-sentence resignation email to Boss, Queen Bee and HR Robot: “Regardless of what you come back with on the bonus front, I’m done. My last day will be next Friday, December 11.”

Now, any sane person is probably wondering the obvious “Why the heck did you give them a weeks notice?” And looking back, I absolutely shouldn’t have. After everything that had happened, they didn’t deserve 5 minutes notice and I gave them a week. If I could go back, I would walk out the door that day and not even say goodbye. Two things ultimately influenced my decision.

1. The very admirable, intelligent, respectable people at the top who made this equally admirable, intelligent and respectable decision would not be affected at all by my leaving. Nope, they would emerge unscathed, high opinions of themselves intact. But my coworkers, you know the people who actually did the work, would be hugely affected by this disaster, and I took that to heart. An extra week of planning and organizing would make things easier in the long run for those still held prisoner and that mattered to me.

2. And then there was the very time-consuming job of backing up 10 years worth of files and cleaning out the office that had been a second home for a decade.

Once the word got out that I was leaving, the support was amazing. My coworkers were so glad that I wasn’t going to be a pawn in a corporate chess game. I got to yell "Check Mate" and it felt amazing. One person even said “I’m so glad someone finally gave them the middle finger!” In all reality, I wasn’t trying to be Norma Rae. I was just trying to do what was right for me and it just so happens that right for me and right for Prison Media were not just on complete opposite ends of the world, but also on opposite ends of the moral compass. Oh, that’s a term that Boss is most definitely not familiar with.

So, the exit date was set and now the exit strategy was in the planning stages. My exit strategy was simple: Do as little as possible, tie up all the loose ends on the personal front, and try not to utter the word India. Boss’s exit strategy for me was slightly different: Tell Boss and Queen Bee everything I know, work as much as possible, and have daily conference calls with India. (Freaking India.) Since Boss couldn’t find a desperate warm body to fill in for me, the new plan was to send the live work directly to India and have me tell them how to do my job before I was officially released from prison.

Seeing how my knowledge belongs to me, we had a problem.

A Royal Flush or a Pair of Twos?

I knew I needed to play my next cards right. And yet I don’t exactly have a poker face, so my next move was going to be challenging. While The Husband was very supportive, he really didn’t think I would do it and he kept cautioning “If you’re going to play the game, and they call your bluff, you have to be ready to walk. Don’t do it unless you’re prepared to walk out the door for good.”

I was fairly certain that they would give me more money. I was going to back them into a corner, so what else could they do? Of course, nothing would really surprise me at this point, so like the Husband said, I was ready to walk if they didn’t show me the money. I walked down the hall whistling Kenny Rogers’s “The Gambler” and thinking how I was ready to hold ‘em, fold ‘em or walk away. If this was up for betting on in Vegas, the odds would be in my favor, right?

Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Me: “So Boss, I’ve had two weeks to think this over and here’s the deal: If you want me to stay, I need a larger stay bonus. The bonus you’re offering isn’t exactly enticing me to stay. Knowing what’s ahead, and what the next three months are going to be like, I need a better offer.”

Boss (looking stunned, scared and pathetic): Well, I’m not sure that’s an option. Are you going to quit if I can’t get you the larger stay bonus?”

Me: “I’m not sure yet. Why don’t you see what you can do and I’ll make a decision by Friday.”

Boss: “I’ll have to take it back to the team and get back to you. I’ll have an answer for you right away.”

Looking back, I should have asked Boss to define “right away.” The day came to an end and I hadn’t heard one word from anyone.

The next morning, I received a call on my cell phone from a former coworker who had turned out to be one of my very best friends. I’ll call her the Mentor. A light bulb went off in my head instantly and I suddenly knew she wasn’t calling to see how my Thanksgiving was. And my suspicions were correct, as the conversation went like this:

Me: “Hey Mentor!”

Mentor: “Oh my God, what is going on over there at Prison Media?”

Me: “OK, who contacted you?!”

Mentor: “Boss. He sent me an email and offered me your job!”

Me: “What?! Are you freaking kidding me? Will you send me the email?”

Mentor: “Yep, I’m forwarding it right now.”

And here it is:
"Hi Long time no talk! How have you been? Your name came up the other day, we are making some changes in the production dept. (perhaps you have heard) and we may need some short-term help putting together the magazines. I know you have a full-time gig but just wanted to see if you might be interested in helping us out with Feb/March issues? Let me know what you think, I hope all's well!"

By the time I arrived at the office, I was so furious that I actually felt sorry for anyone who crossed paths with me. I have a legendary temper and when I lose it, you don’t want to be in the near vicinity. Trust me.

I figured that Boss owed me an explanation and he was going to regret the day he made this fatal error. Down the hallway I marched, like a soldier going to war. I spotted him at the end of the hall, standing in the Warden’s doorway. Queen Bee was standing there too, so it was the perfect setup. They saw me coming and I’m sure they could feel my rage.

Me: “What do you think you’re doing?”

Boss: “What do you mean?”

Me: “Why are you offering my job to someone else when I still work here?!”

Boss (completely stunned and caught so off guard he now had vertigo): “Uh, you know Mentor?”

Me: “That’s completely irrelevant. Why did you offer her my job?”

Queen Bee: “I think we need to step into my office to discuss this.”

Me: “Yes, let’s do that.”

We shuffled into Queen Bee’s office and sat down at a conference table. I was so visibly angry that any shot I had at negotiating was long gone. And my poker face? Yeah, it couldn’t be any clearer how absolutely on fire furious I was.

Queen Bee: “So, Boss told me this morning that you asked for a larger stay bonus.”

Me: “Why didn’t he tell you yesterday?”

Queen Bee: “Well, Boss tried to solve the problem on his own and he was way out of line sending an email to Mentor. When he told me he did that, I was prepared for this conversation, as I knew it would immediately get back to you.”

Boss (still looking stunned and confused): “I didn’t know that you knew Mentor.”

This is a fantastic indicator of just what a genius Boss is. Mentor and I shared an office for years and he would come to our office to talk to her about projects. Since I typically didn’t use my invisible superpowers at work, Boss was either the stupidest man alive or legally blind.

Queen Bee: “So, what do you have in mind for the stay bonus?”

Me: “You mean a number?”

Queen Bee: “Yes, I need a number.”

Me: “I want you to double it.”

Queen Bee: “I can’t do that.”

Me: “Then I can’t stay.”

Queen Bee: “Well, I guess I can take it all the way to the top and see if I can get an answer. It will most likely take all day.”

Me: “OK, see what you can do.”

Boss: “You do realize that if you leave you’re walking away from 3 more months of collecting your paycheck?”

Me (in the snottiest, bitchiest tone I could muster): Um yeah Boss, I realize that. I didn’t just wake up today and decide to do this.”

And with that, I left. I headed back to my office and I wasn’t sitting at my desk for more than 10 minutes when my phone rang. It was another former coworker, let’s call her Sweetness. And she dropped this bombshell: “Someone named Boss just called me and offered me your job.”

Over the next 30 minutes, I received multiple calls and emails from former coworkers who had been offered my job. The big picture was suddenly crystal clear. The Plan B had been hatched in the last 24 hours and it involved letting me walk and contacting everyone with a pulse who had ever worked at Prison Media with the hopes of finding someone to come in and play the role of clean-up batter.

Now what?