The secret diary of a single parent bloke
Only a few weeks into the new year and the company has announced another 10% cut in the workforce. Most seemed happy to go, and I was hoping that I’d be one of them. However, today I came very close to being sacked. Again.
The Operations Director walked out a couple of days ago, and the MD decided to promote the Operations Manager to his place. This meant that someone was needed to take over the running of two departments. I was duly summoned to the office and informed of my new duties. In short, my responsibilities would increase from running 1 department with 2 staff to running 3 departments with 25 staff. 25 very stroppy and militant staff at that! I’m already struggling with working full-time, mad commutes, my “evening job” and of course, trying to be a good single parent. There is no way I can be on hand during evenings and weekends!
However, I viewed this as a start of the negotiations. The MD, who knows of my personal circumstances, reassured me that he knew that I lived too far away and had “family commitments” and wouldn’t be expected to call in during the night to sort out problems. But I know the way these things work- my phone won’t stop ringing from the minute I leave ’til the minute I arrive back on site. I would also be in charge of scheduling the production of thousands of units per day, for an entire factory, and I had no experience whatsoever! That in itself would keep my phone ringing 24/7.
And then I asked the other question that was on my mind: money.
An obviously well-rehearsed speech about how the company needed to make savings, tough market, falling sales, loss of big customers, etc, was trotted out. I explained that I fully understood the company’s problems, but it was a huge amount of extra work and responsibility; they were now saving a director’s wage and I hadn’t had a pay rise in 3 years. I was then informed that that I was one of the highest paid managers in the company (which was bullshit). I replied that I wasn’t interested in other managers’ wages. We went back and forth for about 20 minutes.
In the end, I simply refused to take on the extra work.
The MD’s face turned scarlet. “You’re lucky to have a job. If you don’t like it, you know where the door is.”
“I guess I’ll do it then.” I then walked out of his office, into my own, and put my feet on the desk. If he thinks I’m doing any extra work, he can fuck off. My plan doesn’t seem to be working.