2006
11.07

A good catfight works like a good boxing match. A good boxer will know his opponents’ weaknesses and strengths. Like, the quick-on-his-feet boxer will know to let the other boxer tire himself out throwing punches, and once he’s good and tired, lay into him. Or the hard hitting boxer will throw fewer punches with more accuracy and make sure he hits his mark to KO the guy.

I’ve held my breath since, I want to say May, waiting for my perfect moment. I’ve had a girl working in my store and since GO she’s been taking advantage – taking more days off than Congress and accomplishing less than the DMV. I’ve complained and begged for someone new over and over. I even tried to be her friend, hoping that hours spent at work would be easier if she and I got along.

But, no. I even almost quit because my bosses said that I wasn’t doing my job keeping her in line. So finally, I wrote her up. I was sick of the only person in team being me. My write up said something to extent of:

“I advised Aleka to file the orders sitting on the desk repeated and even chipped in and did some. I gave her until the weekend with the ultimatum of being written up and as of Monday they have not been done.”

I left it for her to write a response and she did:

“Mary is a lazy manager who does not do her share of the work, she does not handle customer issues, she leaves the showroom without stock and I have to work in deplorable conditions: IE no paper towels for like a week. Mary is a dishonest, unprofessional, lazy person and if she wants these orders filed, I suggest she chip in and do some herself.”

Now, I didn’t say anything about her on a personal level, but instead of a slap in the face – which I was expecting – she, quoting my regional VP Les, “jumped (me) from behind with a baseball bat.”

So upon reading the write up, my bosses decided to call a meeting and I was prepared. There with every single piece of evidence I could grab in a half hour to make sure she didn’t win. And just like a good boxing match, in I walk, ready. With all the notebooks, the light bulbs that she didn’t change, the nasty emails and a list thing of things – which 10-to-1 I do more in the store then she does.

We all sit and here’s the moment of truth: Gloves on. I hate to admit but I rehearsed everything in my head. Since May we’ve been dancing around the ring. I laughed at her deplorable working conditions: no paper towels??? That’s bad working conditions to you??? Are you serious? My district manager chimed in saying he’s never seen anything lazy or dishonest about me. I’ve come from shit and I’ve worked for everything I have. There’s nothing lazy about it.

She admitted to plotting to get written up so she could say what she wanted. She admitted in the meeting that she was waiting for a manager’s position, which every one laughed at that (except her). Even after my district manager told her how much and how many times I had stood up for her to make sure she kept her job, she still did not take back anything she had said. But it was the three of us, all three levels of management.

Les: You’re not happy here, are you?
Mike: Why are you here?
Me: I don’t want you here anymore.

Maybe it was the meeting itself, or the fact that I had an “agenda,” or that I then learned she stabbed me in the back; but it wasn’t that. Instead of saying through email and other people: I turned to her and said:

“I’ve tried so hard to make things work with you: I’ve blow dried your hair, taught you how to knit, stood up for you, and this is what I get? A slap in the face??? I don’t want you in my store; I don’t want to work with you anymore. I’m done. I don’t care where you’re going, I’m done.”

It was Mike insulting her all-important shotgun wedding, which brought her to tears, and she ran out of the meeting. I wish I had felt some kind of remorse. Mike and Les looked at me and asked me if I felt bad that she’s pregnant.

Do the increases in lady hormones some how give you license to step on people? I don’t think so. I’m sorry I don’t feel bad. She made her bed. Karma’s a bitch.

And somehow I didn’t feel bad when she was hyperventilating. I just told her to put her hands over her head and breath. Why would I feel bad? She’s the greediest person I have ever met and if I never meet anyone like her again, I will be better for it. And, I’m not emotional like that. All the other managers said how they would have had her out a long long time ago and how lucky she was. Therefore the luck is over.

And seriously: What the hell is wrong with you that you think you’re gonna carry your trailer trash lookin ass into my store and beat me for it? Are you on drugs? If this had been a boxing match- it would have been to classical music and lasted for two hits. She must have forgotten to put her gloves on when she got in the ring with me.

  1. I’m sorry you had to deal with someone like that. I don’t think I could have tolerated it that long.

    And though I admit I tend to skim most of what I read on TDE, I read this through because I like the way it was written? Don’t mind me. I’m strange.

  2. People, especially her, need to realize that you have to WORK for a manager position. It’s not just handed to you on a silver platter.

    I enjoyed reading about your catfight :) You’ve been my amusement for the day – cookie for you!

  3. I can’t understand how she thought acting like a slacker would get her the job. Was she thinking “If I tell them Mary is a loser and can’t do the job they’ll hire me and I can do it”?!?

    What an idiot.

  4. I’m sorry you had to work with her. That sucks.