I have had a bad few days; things have not gone entirely to plan and I am having to answer fair but ultimately uncomfortable questions; I guess life is not without irony.
Week 3. Story about getting fired
Week 4. Celebrating my Manager of the Quarter Award
This Week. Feeling like a mopey tit and wondering if I’m any good at my job…
Rather than being a self-indulgent w*nker I am writing to attempt to make myself feel better; so here is round 2 of;
"Having a Bad Day? Give this a try..."
This story again is very nearly the worst day of my professional life; but in hindsight was entirely self-inflicted and reinforced the idea that many good managers have come to understand and love,
“Trust but Verify”
Something I still need to reminding of to this day…
On the day in question I trusted a person and it almost bit me harder than a teething crocodile. Although the Olympic level cringe I was put through by my Head of Department (HoD) made me feel so bad that actually getting fired would have been [almost] more palatable.
The story begins on one of those classic sleepy Monday/Tuesday evenings in February in a department store; that are all too familiar to Floor Managers; the clock seems to move at half-speed and you're one of only a handful of people left in the business as the day winds its way to a painful close.
I’ve called them the ‘S**t Shows’ for years as it is human nature for evenings like this to attract the most awful of situations.
There are tumbleweeds rolling through your department, it’s approximately 7:45 and you do not close for another excruciating hour and fifteen terrible minutes. This is when menial jobs get done and famously this is when I remember my Cumbrian grandmother chastening me as a child whilst brandishing a tartan slipper and saying;
“Idle hands are the devils play things”
I am the closing manager and doing the rounds across the business when I am called to an irate customer. If you know the time and the situation, you will therefore know the cataclysmic level of dread that filled my stomach when I heard;
“A customer wants to talk to a manager…”
I bowl up to the till area with an effervescent grin, that is sure to charm the customer and diffuse the situation.
It in-fact, achieves the opposite and my confidence is received similarly to a poorly timed sex joke at the Christmas Dinner table, completely unappreciated with heavy looks of disapproval.
It transpires that the customer had overheard my butcher verbally taunting [his friend] and colleague with some unoriginal sexual epithets – essentially, he kept on calling him ‘gay’ whilst he was attempting to serve a customer.
If there was a 'what.3.words' for my location at that precise moment it was
FACE.PALM.HELL
As you can imagine; especially from a butcher in his mid-20’s, subtlety was not a particular personality strength and his inability to whisper or be even remotely appropriate at work meant that it was not just his intended colleague who overheard him and the customer had taken great offence being, as he was, gay.
He was offended and I wanted to ground to swallow me up
It’s worth mentioning that I followed the process for customer complaints – listened, empathised, apologised and tried to make amends.
By the time the Bloomer-charm offensive had finished, the customer who was English but visiting from Rome felt like I had taken on-board his feedback and the issue would be resolved. I was ready to tear a strip off my team member who seemed to have forgotten his brains at home that morning.
Further discussions with the customer led to an order for collection the following day, some comfort food items that he could return home with; I organised this and ensured it would be ready for him. I comp’d the cost as to assuage any other feelings of upset he might have towards the flagship store.
My final masterstroke in this customer recovery plan was to have my Butcher write an apology note to the customer which would be put together with his order so as to show the right level of contrition; this is where my decision making gets ever so slightly wonky…
In hindsight, the butcher should have been sent home, HR informed via email along with my manager. Then an investigation would have determined whether his actions constituted a disciplinary offence which, could ultimately have ended in dismissal for Gross Misconduct.
I was not thinking business process, I was applying my small, independent business manager brain where I have to fix the problems from start to finish. I decide that a letter will fix everything to a satisfactory level.
I instruct the young man in question to write the letter, to apologise for his poor judgement, inappropriate behaviour and discriminatory language. I put the letter with the order form and instruct it all to be put together ready for collection.
I never look inside the envelope…
(FACE.PALM.HELL)
I think nothing of this issue after the evening, the employees are looking very sheepish. I have given them a bol**cking, the customer left happy with a nice bag of goodies for home and an apology has been given in a meaningful way.
The order & apology card is collected the following day; I am not at work when it is handed over…
Two days pass and I am summoned to the Head of Department who is sat in a very grand meeting room, called the Crypt (#ominous) and both my manager and he are sat looking very serious.
I am then asked about the evening in question… I run them through the events and then I am told a complaint has come via the CEO…
A print out is put in front of me of a handwritten letter on our company’s card stock and my heart falls out of my arse instantly; my Scouse and slightly scary HoD makes me read the “letter” out loud – he uses the bunny ears move to great effect here.
I decline to read the letter, he insists.
I decline again, his insistence is unwavering.
When a scouser insists like that, you do as your f**kin’ told…
The letter, which is in fact a scan of the very same letter from the Butcher looks like the scrawled penmanship of an 8-year-old on a lemonade come-down; written in barely legible English and with words of this effect;
“I’m sorry you found what I said insulting, it wasn’t directed at you and was a joke. Didn’t mean no offense or nuffinh. Sorry you got offended but it was banter between me and my mate. Sorry”
(I am paraphrasing slightly, but the overall sentiment is bang on the money)
You’d be forgiven for thinking that this, whilst bad doesn’t really come to the dizzying heights of bad days but the next piece of paper i'm presented with is the pickle on the crap sandwich.
The next print out is the complaint letter that was attached with the butcher’s masterpiece and at the top of the handwritten letter I read;
“From the Office of the Holy Father,
Vatican City”…
I read the rest of the handwritten letter (out loud) and my heart falls out of my arse for a second time.
"Dear CEO…I am writing to you about the experience in your store this week…"
Yes ladies and gentleman, I managed to furnish myself with an original complaint from the Vatican about my customer service because I let a 20 something butcher right a non-apology letter about his unacceptable use of gay slurs at work.
FACE.PALM.HELL
(Small aside - my manager at the time was barely holding it together, he still finds it immensely funny to this day.)
Scouse HoD finishes the meeting with – “Lets make that the last time you do dumb stuff like that again, eh, Andy…” {just lovingly menacing enough, to teach me the lesson I needed}
“Trust but Verify”
Every time I think about that I wonder how I managed to continue working there; this should have been sacking number 3 of 4….
I'm still rolling with the punches, learning to be better one day at a time; I did get a written warning for this which is fair. Any other manger or HoD would have binned me off, maybe they saw potential?
Flawed potential, is still potential and who doesn’t need a character building story or two in their life…
Love
Goose
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