Out with the new, in with the old.
Employers, that is.
I quit my new job with the Bad Employer on Tuesday afternoon. I should have listened to Sarah, who worked for them once before.
As of Tuesday morning, I’d worked a total of 96 hours for them, and had not received a penny. They gave a lot of lame, contradictory excuses.
If I were more psycho and less classy, I might have made a scene when I quit. I’ve never made a scene before. I’d like to, just once. Just to know how it feels.
Even better, the clients were visiting on Tuesday, and perhaps they would have liked to know what goes on: “Hey, client! All this money you guys are paying this company to do your dirty work, and they don’t even pay their employees!”
But seeing as the receptionist already had to call the police three times last Friday when the paychecks didn’t come in, they are on High Disgruntlement Alert. I don’t want to be deported or interrogated by Homeland Security.
So it was a quiet, dignified resignation.
My check had in fact arrived (finally), and I was totally prepared to swallow my pride and come back later for my 3:30 shift.
“You know what,” I said to the receptionist, as I dug my ID badge from my purse. “I’m gonna give this back to you. And can you have them mail me the rest of my checks?”
And so I laid the new job to rest. They still owe me for 56 hours I worked.
Previous Seasonal Employer wanted me back again, and so I will return. I liked that job last year… and they even gave me a small raise.
Did I mention the Bad Employer still owes me for 56 hours I worked?