Saturday, February 12, 2005

How I Really Feel

I've had this temporary, part-time job for two months now. At first I wasn't going to apply for the permanent, full-time position but then I changed my mind. I'm a girl, it's my prerogative. I applied because I knew I was the best candidate for the job. I have the balance of skills necessary to do what is, in short, three full-time jobs in a normal 40-hour week. I'm clever, I could manage.

I applied. I interviewed. I interviewed well. I interviewed again, better than the first time. Then on Wednesday I knew. I'm a girl; I intuit these things. I knew on Wednesday that an offer had been made to someone for the job. That someone wasn't me. It was agonizing. I should've been told, as a courtesy. I do have to work in the environment every day, interacting frequently and closely with the boss. It is rather callous to not tell me I'm out. (I realize there are some legalities here, but I consider them irrelevant. I'd really have to be screwed over to sue a non-profit organization.)

Friday was the deadline for finding out, and still I hadn't heard anything. I was getting ready to leave for the day, and decided I had to know before the weekend. So I asked. I had to ask(!) for the bad news about the job!!

The boss' response: "Blah, blah, more fund development experience, blah, blah, really tough decision, blah, blah, blah." (I find it difficult to retain obvious bullshit.)

So I said that's great, blah, blah, blah, etc. Then left.

But this is how I really feel:

Where the hell do you get off? I've made you look better in the last two months to your board of directors than you've managed by yourself in quite some time. It's only been seven weeks and I can anticipate 80% of your needs and meet them ahead of schedule.

Secondly, I may not have much formal fund development experience but I know how it's done. Furthermore, we talked about your fund development plan and I gave you some ideas that you are going to implement. Clearly I know what I'm doing in this case. Just because someone has experience in an area doesn't mean they're good at it. If I bother do to something, I'm good at it. Trust me.

Then you told me that the person you hired has limited volunteer management experience. You didn't say this directly, but I picked up on it. Trust me, this will be a problem. Your volunteers suck. When you said you may spin off the volunteer management job into its own full-time gig, I said I would never take it. Managing volunteers is a waste of my diverse skills, but I told you it was more than that. I hate your volunteers. I loathe them. If I drove a car, I would cruise around town waiting to find one in a crosswalk so I could run them down!

But more than that, the volunteers need to control the public access space, which is slowly being taken over by drugged-out homeless sluts. I'm not exaggerating. It will take a strong manager to fix the volunteer program and keep the place from turning into a homeless brothel. I have the skills, experience, and desire to do this. I hope She does as well.

Which does bring me to my final point. You hired a woman. Are you fucking out of your mind? The organization doesn't need any more feminine energy. The board is dominated by women, both executive directors have been women, and the sole staff member has been a woman. If you've hired another lesbian (God help you if she's white) you will have dealt the organization a severe blow. It is not sufficient to demonstrate diversity in your interviewing process, as you put it. The staff, all two of you, must reflect the community at large as best you can.

You've brought this crap down on yourself. Don't come crying to me in three months when you realize you've made the wrong decision.

I hope all the plants in your yard die this summer. And your partner cheats on you. With a man. I hate you.

See you on Monday.

3 Comments:

Blogger Cindy-Lou said...

What's up Michelle, you think you're all mexican now?

9:45 PM  
Blogger Peeved Michelle said...

Hey, even a gay black Russian used to call Matt Senor Jefe. I think I learned it on a '70s sitcom. Or maybe it was Sesame Street.

10:03 PM  
Blogger Unknown said...

Ooh!! I'd forgotten that!

I so want to be called Senor Jefe again!

1:13 PM  

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