Piece of Cake

PIECE OF CAKE

On the last day at what was supposed to have been my dream job, one of the Senior Vice Presidents swept into the office and dropped a small panettone cake and a thank you card on my desk. 

I had started working at a lobby group a few months earlier.  It was an organization devoted to making rich people richer.  Members were heavy hitters in Canadian business and industry.  Staff included a former Deputy Prime Minister, a long term writer for Macleans magazine and a retired diplomat.  I had two Vice Presidents to take care of, an easy going Economist from the East Coast. aa gifted PhD from Oxford who was routinely the smartest person in the room.    I developed a friendly, professional rapport with the economist.

Every day I straightened my hair, put on my nicest clothes and did my best to fit in.   I kept my desk clean.  My screen saver had a tasteful picture of Highclere Castle.    Usually I try to befriend co-workers but the demeanour at this office was so conservative I figured I better hold back until I was on full time.  I did imagine lunch get togethers in the board room at some point.
Sadly, I was woefully unprepared.  Assembling a briefing binder for the President’s week long  trip to the World Economic forum in Tianjin, China while printing stationary for the member’s meeting in Montreal kept me from getting to know my Vice Presidents' schedules and priorities in those crucial early weeks. What I thought were normal growing pains in a new position turned into a series of critical errors in judgment.  An inbox went idle for a month before it was pointed out to me.   A trip to Mexico was extended for a day without proper authority. All on me. Stupid, stupid, stupid mistakes.

I thought it was my turn for a break and somehow the forces in the world that reward a job well done or suffering were on my side.  I had faced income drop in my sector and almost two years of minimal employment.  My husband had his contracting hours cut.  Just when were finally pulling ourselves out of a deep hole he had a heart attack and bypass surgery.  We had already gone into our war chest once to keep above water –there was no new one.  He went back to work less than a month after surgery (if he had a job with benefits he would have qualified for six months sick leave and been able to attend cardiac rehabilitation at the Heart Institute).  It was time for me to lean in, get my act together and get a proper job with benefits to cover all our new prescriptions.

When a lone gunman caused havoc on October 22 2014 (my most memorable birthday since boys were allowed at my party!),  I found myself  in lock down as my office was in ground zero - a  short walk from the cenotaph.  My co-workers and I ceased working and were glued to the news while watching the streets clear of people then fill with black SUV,s and well armed police officers.

 Eric was evacuated to a gelato shop during his attempt to buy lunch on the ground floor.  When I reunited him with his blackberry, coat and laptop he bought me a birthday gelato and thanked me for informing his wife that he was safe. Finally, I thought. I belong.

Three days later I was reprimanded for making errors.    I had been there two and a half months.  My probation was extended.  My desk was moved.  Nothing is harder to fix than a bad first impression.
Susan called me into her office six weeks later and informed me while I had made a dramatic improvement, it still wasn’t enough.   She asked me to remain as a temporary until Christmas eve. I still had four more days on payroll and after the weekend I informed the office manager I would not be able to stay on an extra two weeks.  I was exhausted.  I had barely smiled in weeks, prepared a proper meal or slept.  All I had done was gone in early, stayed late and pasted a smile on my face hoping I could keep my golden ticket.   The hardest part was withdrawing from the staff Christmas party.  I had always wanted to go to one where I was actually on staff.
So there I was on Bank Street on a  cold December day, clutching the last of my belongings, wishing I had brought a bag…..wondering why life IS SO UNFAIR.  And, of course, life isn’t fair but once in a while….wouldn’t it be great if it was?

A Wonderful Terrible Job

On April 1, 2019,  I began a job at local University that looked promising.  It was working for a research organization. I thought my dream of a permanent job had finally come true.  The institute was the brain child of a  professor who wanted to do something meaningful with the last  few years of her career: create an organization that would study ageing and help seniors world-wide live longer, healthier lives.

I wanted to become one of those indispensable assistants that is the bosses left hand.   Instead, it was a nightmarish experience of cascading failures ending with me being handed my letter of termination twelve weeks after I started with the words unsatisfactory performance burning my eyes as I read them.

The first red flag I ignored was the lack of new employee orientation.  The human resources department had suggested the professor put some time aside to train me.    She told me she had no time to do this but I figured the online training I was offered would suffice and I would just figure out the rest.  As an office temporary,  I was used to parachuting into roles and having to adjust quickly.

The institute had seven different programs on the go.  I wrote the names of them all on a white board and tried to figure them out.  Meetings were chaotic.  Complete agenda's weren't shared and three meetings were wasted discussing menu plans for a group dinner.

I was using unfamiliar technology -ZOOM and doodle polls.  I had the computer of my predecessor which, according to the bosses Phd student, had a virus.

Red flag number two was the organization did not have a structure.  There was no board of directors, mandate or meeting schedule.  I had worked with associations and institutes before, but without a structure you're left trying to nail jello to a wall.

The third red flag was the first major meeting with international stakeholders.  The hotel and meeting rooms were booked less than four months before the event right over the Canada day holiday when hotel prices are at their peak.  The guest list was not set and people were still being invited two weeks before the actual event despite there being a finite number of hotel rooms.

Red flag number four was the finance department  refused to help me.  Part of my job was tracking budgets.  I had two budgets to monitor and prepare travel claims in the University system called Concur. My boss had made a trip to New York City shortly after I started and I was having trouble preparing her claim having only had online training.   I was berated for phoning  the finance deparment too often to ask for help.

On my last week I had finally completed the claim and figured out some other forms, but it was too late.

The final straw for my boss was when she asked me to change the meeting room for our first board meeting at the last minute. Three of the members received cancellation notices and didn't attend.  I didn't know how to set up the audio/visual equipment because I had not been trained yet on that type of boardroom. The meeting went on but the damage was done.

On June 12, 2019 I was summoned into my bosses office and handed the letter of termination and a taxi chit.. I took them back to my office to look at later. For the first time in my life I had a private office with a key and I had decorated it from tip to toe with pictures and my own reference books.  I turned on a podcasat and decided to take my time packing up. As I was walking down the hall with my bags (I was too mortified to ask for boxes) I could hear my shoes flip flopping on the tile floors.  Like my shoes, the job just didn't fit.

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