I lost my Perfect Job after less than a month, before the end of my probationary period. I was assured it WAS performance related, that I wasn't demonstrating the necessary skill level or ability to learn quickly. Problem is, I thought I was doing good work and learning an arseload, particularly considering the fact that I was receiving no training. Then two days before Thanksgiving — SURPRISE! It was utterly demoralizing; I was furious, and barely made it to my car before I burst into tears.
I was so proud to have landed that job, and I loved everything about it: the people, the work, the old building, the free coffee, even my little cubicle. I have never been fired before; every employer I've left has made it clear I was welcome back any time. (Wait, in college I was fired from a job as a cocktail waitress; I truly sucked at it and was so relieved that I laughed and asked if I had to finish my shift.) The only thorn in my side was my balloon head of a boss, who made inappropriate remarks about my weight ("Go eat something. That anorexic look isn't working for you."), stood too close, smelled gross and was universally loathed by his colleagues. I clearly did not show him the level of submissive respect he needed to maintain his arrogant belief that he was the smartest person in the office, that we were all morons because we were Democrats. Yes, on a few occasions I told him to go away when he was annoying me, and once I told him to fuck off when he said something especially snarky, but I did so in the nicest possible way. I'm not sure what his real reasons were for cutting me loose so abruptly, but they haven't yet replaced me. This means I was such dead weight that he would rather have NOBODY than pay me to work. Did I mention how demoralizing this is?
So I'm back to freelancing and looking for a job, which is a real hoot during a holiday recession. And now that I've gotten that off my chest, I'll resume blogging about my usual litany of complaints and unexpected triumphs. I've missed you all.