John's Bad Day
I can say two positive things about Thermatron Engineering, the home of my summer employment, 2006. One is that I am entirely motivated to stay in school and not wash my career down the toilet, and the other is to avoid becoming the witless bigot/chauvinist idiot fuckhead that I had the displeasure of working with, John Gooden. John had a neanderthal skull, complete with the sloped brow and dull wide eyes. He had a flabby muscular build that hinted at the steroid heyday of his past, and would wear tanktops and jean shorts that would make him look like an awkward nine year old boy as he stood around with his hand either in his pockets or scratching his testicles.
Anyway, John was a fuck-up and everyone knew it. He'd stroll in late for work and watch other people work while sipping his coffee and making dick and fart jokes. When he was given a task to do he'd often do everything he could to avoid working, whether that meant finding something wrong with the task or telling other people how to do their jobs. He would interrupt conversations and give advice where it wasn't needed, and even insisted (on his first day) that the managers should be tossed because he would "straighten shit out" in that place. Nobody at Thermatron liked John Gooden.
On Friday afternoon, as usual, I was in the shipping room getting some parts together, lackadaisically participating in the conversation taking place between three or four other employees. The topic at hand was the lineup on The Who, as I had listened to them on lunch break. Refusing to be left unnoticed, John forced himself into the conversation telling everyone that The Who sucked, and that I'd be more inclined to know the lineup of the Backstreet Boys. He then went to the bathroom and we all rolled our eyes, cussed, and continued talking. By the time he came out of the bathroom, the guys were discussing tactics used to meet women at bars, and one employee remarked that they usually asked what the woman's name was. John so cleverly chimed in once again, saying "I don't need a fuckin' name, I can call them Bitch, Bitch, Bitch, Slut, Whore, Bitch..." He smiled and waited for laughter. Instead there was only silence, until I looked at him and said "That's probably why you're alone, John." He walked away. And 15 minutes later, he was fired. The big boss told him he "wasn't working out at Thermatron." Understatement of the year.
As for me, I think I'm going to start being more honest about what I really think. Some people deserve it.
Anyway, John was a fuck-up and everyone knew it. He'd stroll in late for work and watch other people work while sipping his coffee and making dick and fart jokes. When he was given a task to do he'd often do everything he could to avoid working, whether that meant finding something wrong with the task or telling other people how to do their jobs. He would interrupt conversations and give advice where it wasn't needed, and even insisted (on his first day) that the managers should be tossed because he would "straighten shit out" in that place. Nobody at Thermatron liked John Gooden.
On Friday afternoon, as usual, I was in the shipping room getting some parts together, lackadaisically participating in the conversation taking place between three or four other employees. The topic at hand was the lineup on The Who, as I had listened to them on lunch break. Refusing to be left unnoticed, John forced himself into the conversation telling everyone that The Who sucked, and that I'd be more inclined to know the lineup of the Backstreet Boys. He then went to the bathroom and we all rolled our eyes, cussed, and continued talking. By the time he came out of the bathroom, the guys were discussing tactics used to meet women at bars, and one employee remarked that they usually asked what the woman's name was. John so cleverly chimed in once again, saying "I don't need a fuckin' name, I can call them Bitch, Bitch, Bitch, Slut, Whore, Bitch..." He smiled and waited for laughter. Instead there was only silence, until I looked at him and said "That's probably why you're alone, John." He walked away. And 15 minutes later, he was fired. The big boss told him he "wasn't working out at Thermatron." Understatement of the year.
As for me, I think I'm going to start being more honest about what I really think. Some people deserve it.