The Devious Tale of June Chipmunk, Finale

(Continued from this post)

"Calling the Karma Police"

There's not much else to tell about what happened to June Chipmunk after she--and possibly Robbie Baretta--conspired to ruin my career.

I can tell you that when I took over his old store, Baretta had originally been entrusted with two retail locations. After a few months, a different manager was put in charge of the busier one. Carmichael left him with a small store that's as devoid of customers as a Circuit City across the street from a Best Buy. The type of place where the associates look startled when a customer walks in. This confirms Baretta was a lazy fat fuck and a piss-poor manager.

I can't prove he was an active participant in my firing. At the same time, however, I can't dismiss the notion that it was he who actually sent the letter that sealed my fate. Regardless, June Chipmunk started it all when she pointed him toward my blog.

Just before Carmichael promoted her, by the way, he had a mutual friend call me. He wanted me to know that he was forced to terminate my employment. The anonymous letter made it to one of the Powers That Be, and it was beyond his control. He had to do it. Carmichael wanted me to call him back.

Fuck him, I thought. I'm unemployed with nothing but time on my hands--but I don't have time to waste on motherfuckers without the balls to pick up the phone themselves. I left him waiting.

Which brings me to June Chipmunk and her Karmic payback.

I have no closure.

I said it in Part 1: this story is the impetus behind me creating this blog. It's a tale I needed to get off my chest. I thought I was saving it for when I'd have something deliciously ironic to report on June Chipmunk's fate...but I got nothin'.

June Chipmunk couldn't stand that I was promoted before her, she made my job crazy difficult, she was a negative pain in the ass in a corporate culture that was idyllic and positive, she plotted and lied to have me fired...

...and she was promoted to an $80,000-a-year job.

That's the end of the story? Where's her comeuppance? When do I get to pump my fists? When do I get to shout like a Viking on a crimson-stained battlefield?

All I have is a MySpace message from an old coworker still with that company: "I can't tell ya [June] has been fired yet, but there have been some rumors of people not happy over there."

But that's not enough for me. Not by a long shot.

So I'm putting this out there to the Karma Police: in one week I'm at the one-year mark of losing the best job I ever had. The person responsible was rewarded for it instead of being punished. I'm 99% sure I wasn't fired as retribution of anything I'd done wrong, so she couldn't have been acting as the bespectacled hand of Karma (ooh! band name!).

I don't assume I can influence the course of mighty rivers by wishing really hard. I'm not a bullied child wishing his enemies dead. I just want some assurance that June Chipmunk gets what's coming to her.

I think of myself as Edward Norton in The Incredible Hulk when asked if he thinks he can control the uncontrollable.

"No, but maybe I can aim it."

The Devious Tale of June Chipmunk, Part 3

(Continued from this post)

"Chipmunk Stores Rider's Nuts in a Vise"

On November 8, 2007, Rider received a phone call from June Chipmunk. She wasn't coming in to work. She wasn't feeling well. This sick day "coincidentally" preceded her scheduled three-day weekend.

"Is there any way you can work for just a few hours?" Rider asked. "We have to prepare for [a professional athlete's] appearance here. I need your help promoting it and getting the store ready."

That's when June Chipmunk lost it. Over the next 15 minutes, Rider tried to calm her down, not understanding her anger at a request for help. Her end of the conversation quickly escalated to shouting. It culminated in the phrase, "Oh, that's it! I have had it with you!"

One hour later, according to Rider's Site Meter, his blog was visited by someone in the area who Google-searched it. That was highly unusual, as Rider had only five readers in the state, and they always visited his blog through bookmarks or their own blogroll links. No one ever searched for [his name] and [his blog's title].

The following day, someone using a different computer in a different town searched for his blog again and clicked through the archives.

A fateful letter was mailed to corporate headquarters on Friday or Saturday.

This was all pieced together later, though.

Rider continued working through the weekend, unaware that the job he had grown to love was coming to an end. He prepared for the athlete's promotional appearance by himself. He attended a huge company event in a stretch limo with his happy associates. June Chipmunk did not return his calls.

When she finally returned from her four days off, Rider and June Chipmunk had a conversation where he willingly accepted partial blame for the way their argument had spiraled out of control--and he meant it. They needed to work together if the store was to succeed.

June Chipmunk offered nothing in return. She took no blame and offered no apology. She went back to work in her cubicle in the back of the store, where she preferred to do paperwork and avoid personal interaction with her own team.

The athlete's in-store appearance the next day went well. Carmichael was happy with the crowds and with Rider's efforts in the promotion.

The shit hit the turbine two days later. Rider's blog was visited for over 80 minutes by two different computers at his company's headquarters. Every single month was read. Pages were likely printed out.

Rider knew all this after receiving a chilly phone call from Carmichael asking him to come to corporate on his day off. He suspected it could only mean one thing, but he wasn't sure why. His blog was irreverent and humorous. It featured movie reviews and stories about his life. His career was mentioned at times, but the name of the company was not. And when his job was discussed, it was always in glowing terms.

"We're terminating you," Carmichael told him that Friday morning at 9:00 AM, "because of the content of your blog." A faceless drone from HR looked on, taking notes.

Rider was confused. Why was this happening?

"An anonymous letter was sent to the president. It was from a customer who said you shared your blog's address with them. They found it offensive. Since our whole business model revolves around customer satisfaction, and since you have violated our code of conduct, you are dismissed from the company."

It was November 16, 2007.

June Chipmunk was promoted to store manager of Countrydale a week later.

To be concluded...

The Devious Tale of June Chipmunk, Part 2

(Continued from this post)

"The Two Faces of June Chipmunk"

Rider assimilated himself well into the Countrydale store's environment. 14 associates from four departments answered to him, and any apprehension they had about losing their old manager faded away within a few weeks.

"We've never had a manager come out of his office to help us," they all said. "It makes our tummies feel good."

June Chipmunk smiled at Rider, but summarily dismissed their ridiculous claim behind closed doors. She had octagonal glasses and small eyes behind them. "They're playing you."

Rider gauged his progress as a new leader by measuring his associates' morale--which was sunny--and by the store's numbers--which hadn't slipped after the fat fuck Robbie was booted from his comfort zone.

Carmichael told Rider he was doing a good job. He had implemented marketing plans, reached out to the community, and was effortlessly driving the company's business model of keeping his associates satisfied with their leader.

All the while, June Chipmunk sat in her back office, away from the team, and smiled like a mannequin whenever Rider approached her. But inside she seethed with rage as he learned his new job and got good at it.

Rider sensed something was off with her. He hadn't yet realized how much harder he was trying with her than she was with him. He just knew they hadn't clicked as partners or as a leadership team.

He laid the foundation for his ultimate downfall when he shared too much of himself in a "hail mary" move to break through her icy exterior. He had a creative side, he told her. "I write a blog."

It's here that I ask you to read these four words again.

I write a blog.

Study those words.

Ten years ago that sentence would've sounded like nonsense, but today those four words pack a wallop.

You should never, ever, ever say those words to anyone you work with.

Because one of your coworkers could easily do what June Chipmunk did next.

Simply put: she memorized the title of Rider's blog.

On November 8, she used it against him.

A week later he was unemployed.

To be continued...

The Devious Tale of June Chipmunk, Part 1

I knew I'd get to this post eventually. It was one of the main reasons I created a blog with a Karma theme in the first place.

You see, in this post I'm going to attempt to click a Karmic refresh button by telling you a true story. It's my hope that by sharing this tale, by putting the facts out there, by reliving a painful memory, I can "remind" the universe of a grave injustice that has yet to be rectified.

"But, Rider," you say, "Karma doesn't work that way. It marches to its own metaphysical beat. You can't just alter its cosmic to-do list with a simple blog post."

To which I say, What's it hurt to give 'er a kick-start and see if she turns over? All I'm doing is telling a story to the World Wide Web. If something happens, it happens.

"Meet Mr. Rider"

One fine day in August 2007, a retail sales manager named Rider was given some incredible news. The man giving him the news was a well-liked area sales manager named Carmichael.

"Rider," Carmichael said, "you've been with the company eleven months now, and I've decided to promote you to store manager. Congratulations."

Rider was thrilled by the news, although he had called the promotion a few months earlier. He loved the job, he loved his coworkers, and he loved the company's culture. He had never been in charge of an entire retail location--and the challenges were intimidating--but he was sure he could handle it.

He was fired three months later, on November 16, by his boss Carmichael.

But we're skipping ahead.

When Rider's promotion was officially announced to Carmichael's district, not everyone was happy with the news. Two managers in the same retail location were deeply affected by Carmichael's decision.

The first was a fat fuck named Robbie Baretta. (I use that vulgar phrase because if you saw this man walking through the mall, you'd say, "Now that's a fat fuck.") He was the manager of the Countrydale store that Rider would be taking over. He had a sense of entitlement to his position. He decorated his office with a ridiculous amount of Chicago Bears paraphernalia, which made it look more like a den than a place of business.

Because Baretta was so comfortable in his Bears den, he made very little effort to improve sales, which was Carmichael's primary reason to move him to another location where he'd actually have to try harder.

The second manager affected by Rider's promotion was a sales manager named June Chipmunk.

Chipmunk felt she deserved to take over the Countrydale location. Baretta had told her that she was a golden blip on Carmichael's radar. The fat fuck's sense of entitlement had rubbed off on her, and she loved how it felt around her shoulders.

But now this Rider fellow had leapfrogged past her--knocking flabby Baretta and his furry Bears slippers clear into the next town. She would have to answer to him and wait even longer for the next management position to open up.

As Baretta packed his Bears shit into cardboard boxes, a decision was reached. Whether this decision was made by one or both of them is still unclear.

What is certain, however, is that while the Bears den was being dismantled, a lion's den was being assembled in its place.

Rider walked into the trap on September 1, 2007.

He never saw what hit him.

To be continued...

Got Cobwebs? Purify Them away with Fire!

Apparently, a hose or a broom wasn't enough for this guy:

Man sets house on fire with blowtorch.

Note to Mr. Winchell: iron oxide and aluminum mixed together make for an excellent cleanser. Mix it into a wet paste, paint it on, and after it dries, rub glycerol and potassium permanganate on the area to be cleaned. Be sure to stand back and scream, "Oh, the humanity!"