Job Insecurity, Part Deux
Longtime readers of this blog may recall my rant on my job from months past. If you haven’t read it you should do so now, as you’ll be better informed regarding the rest of this post. Go ahead. I’ll wait.
I’d like to say things have changed at my job, but they haven’t. There are a lot of shady dealings going on—enough to amount to a word that starts with F and rhymes with “broad”. For example (and this is only one example of many), on March 28th, 2005 I, along with all my co-workers who have health insurance through work, received a letter from our health insurance company. It was my fourth such letter since I began work at my current place of employment almost three years ago. This one was delivered via certified mail. It said my health benefits “may” be terminated due to non-payment of insurance premiums by my employer.
Ahem. Allow me to explain:
What this basically means is that my employer has been taking MY portion of the insurance premiums that I have automatically deducted each pay period from MY check, hasn’t been kicking in his portion, and hasn’t been paying the provider. So, if he’s taking my money, why the fuck isn’t it getting to where it should be on time? More important, WHERE THE FUCK IS IT GOING?
So, I called my insurance company for some answers. They were remarkably un-helpful. They couldn’t (or wouldn’t) give me any more than the bare minimum amount of information, despite the fact that this is MY FUCKING MONEY we’re talking about. Why? Because technically, even though I’m a policyholder, their client is my place of employment, and they need to protect their confidentiality. What they did tell me was this: on March 31st, my policy “might” be cancelled retroactively from March 1st. That’s because on March 1st, my premium was due, and my boss didn’t pay it on time. In fact, as of the 28th, which is when I got the certified letter and when I made the call, he still hadn’t paid it. So, if I had gone to the doctor’s office, or got into an accident and required immediate medical attention, or had an X-ray or MRI or something on, say, March 15th, when I thought I was covered, I might possibly NOT be covered because this assclown I work for didn’t pay my insurance on time, despite the fact that he’s been taking MY FUCKING MONEY all along. The insurance company also told me that they sent this letter certified because the fourth time’s the charm. This time if they didn’t get their money by the end of the month I was officially without insurance. They let it slide the first three times, but I guess enough’s enough.
One of my co-workers didn’t take this news well. Rather than call the insurance company as I did later, she flipped out immediately. The Big Boss—the one who’s ultimately responsible for the insurance and who likes to play grabass with all the girls 25 years younger than him—wasn’t around. My boss, the asshat, is the toady who makes excuses for the Big Boss. He was on vacation in Texas that week. So my co-worker—who for the purposes of this blogpost I’ll call “The Bulldog”—calls the Big Boss’s second-in-command: his secretary, who I’ll call “No. 2”, for no particular reason. Honest.
The Bulldog calls No. 2 and screams at her on the phone; when she doesn’t get the answers she wants she hangs up on her. No. 2 comes downstairs, pissed off, and a shouting match ensues ‘twixt she and the Bulldog. Everyone in the office (except me, see below) gets involved. The threat of “calling the Labor Board” is made. Then the word “douchebag” is used.
(For the record, I’m out of the office on a home visit, doing my job, when this occurs. I don’t know anything about the letter yet, and I won’t hear about the chaos at the office until hours later.)
Predictably, when one handles an administrative issue such as the non-payment of insurance premiums by calling to the person who can get it fixed a “douchebag”, the result is less than satisfactory. Also, the original issue, i.e. the fact that the Big Boss is TAKING OUR FUCKING MONEY AND NOT PAYING OUR PREMIUMS WITH IT, gets lost, and it becomes all about unprofessional behavior in the office.
Not that I disagree with The Bulldog’s righteous indignation. In fact, when I got the letter I was ready to disjoint the Big Boss like a rotisserie chicken. But there’s a way to handle things.
Here’s how it all hashed out, a month ago: The premiums were paid at the last possible minute. I still have insurance. So far I haven’t got letter #5 (and I’d better not—fucking ever). Two of my co-workers, including The Bulldog, who referred to No. 2 as a “douchebag” and another who was also apparently too loud and/or antagonistic, were suspended for two days without pay. If everything I’ve heard is accurate, The Bulldog should have been fired, but then again, the Big Boss should be in jail for embezzlement, so I guess it works out evenly.
However, as of today, my agency’s uppance has come.
The State has come back for a follow-up, just to make sure we’re doing everything we said we would. Are we? The short answer is no.
My boss the asshat didn’t, as a rule, promote anyone to any kind of supervisory level, because he wants to be the King. That is, until he found out The State likes supervisors, because their work hours count for more with regards to financial reimbursement. So he relented and selected a nurse and a social worker and made them “coordinators” for their respective paradigms. (No, he didn’t ask me, but that’s ok. I take it as a sure sign he recognizes my competence.) “Coordinators” don’t make any more money and have no power at all, as being a supervisor under my boss is pretty much like playing the triangle in an orchestra. They get the title, and that’s it.
They’re an inspiration to the rest of us. We should aspire to be more like them in word and deed. Who is the social work coordinator, you ask? Why, The Bulldog, of course!
As I said many months back, my boss the asshat let go the one person who had a handle on The State and their fickle whims. He felt threatened by her competence. He was (correctly) afraid she’d make him look superfluous. The unfortunate side effect of not hiring competent people and not keeping people who are competent is that it’s completely against the best interests of the agency. As a result, no one has trained any new staff. Technically, training staff is the Program Director’s (i.e. Asshat’s) job, but he doesn’t do it. He doesn’t want anyone else to do it either, because he thinks that whoever’s doing the training will be seen as a supervisor. And he kinda always felt that what The State mandated was pretty much optional (especially if he felt it got in the way of making money), despite the fact it’s definitely NOT optional, that they can shut us down anytime, and they’re just looking for an excuse.
They won’t have to look hard this week. Several of the nurses I work with couldn’t find their asses with both hands, and the social workers, myself included, have been told so much contradictory information over the past few months that NO ONE is doing the same thing in the same way. Patient charts look like total butt; a result of the crazy amount of staff turnover my agency experiences as a matter of course. No one gets fired, especially the people who should be, but all the good ones leave because of the shenanigans that are routine. Who wants to put their license on the line committing fraud for a jackoff (i.e. The Big Boss) who has an assload of money to begin with?
I’ve been looking for a job for a long time, but haven’t found one yet. That’s ok with me, because I’ve come to some peaceful realizations: 1) I can, if necessary, collect unemployment if the agency closes, though I’ve never done so in my life and I‘d much rather have a job. 2) If my insurance is cancelled, I will sue the living Christ out of the Big Boss. I called the labor board already. With the stuff I know, he really, really, REALLY shouldn’t fuck with me on this, or anything else. 3) I don’t want to do this job or any kind of social work any longer. I’m done with it. I know what I want to do. I just need to find a way to do it.
In other words, all those who care about The Angry Piper and fear for his financial status should rest easy. I appreciate the support, but I’ve got this one handled perfectly. I am not in the least bit concerned, and neither should you be. I’ll post an update at the end of the week and let y’all know if I’m still employed.
Or maybe sooner, depending on The State. :)
I’d like to say things have changed at my job, but they haven’t. There are a lot of shady dealings going on—enough to amount to a word that starts with F and rhymes with “broad”. For example (and this is only one example of many), on March 28th, 2005 I, along with all my co-workers who have health insurance through work, received a letter from our health insurance company. It was my fourth such letter since I began work at my current place of employment almost three years ago. This one was delivered via certified mail. It said my health benefits “may” be terminated due to non-payment of insurance premiums by my employer.
Ahem. Allow me to explain:
What this basically means is that my employer has been taking MY portion of the insurance premiums that I have automatically deducted each pay period from MY check, hasn’t been kicking in his portion, and hasn’t been paying the provider. So, if he’s taking my money, why the fuck isn’t it getting to where it should be on time? More important, WHERE THE FUCK IS IT GOING?
So, I called my insurance company for some answers. They were remarkably un-helpful. They couldn’t (or wouldn’t) give me any more than the bare minimum amount of information, despite the fact that this is MY FUCKING MONEY we’re talking about. Why? Because technically, even though I’m a policyholder, their client is my place of employment, and they need to protect their confidentiality. What they did tell me was this: on March 31st, my policy “might” be cancelled retroactively from March 1st. That’s because on March 1st, my premium was due, and my boss didn’t pay it on time. In fact, as of the 28th, which is when I got the certified letter and when I made the call, he still hadn’t paid it. So, if I had gone to the doctor’s office, or got into an accident and required immediate medical attention, or had an X-ray or MRI or something on, say, March 15th, when I thought I was covered, I might possibly NOT be covered because this assclown I work for didn’t pay my insurance on time, despite the fact that he’s been taking MY FUCKING MONEY all along. The insurance company also told me that they sent this letter certified because the fourth time’s the charm. This time if they didn’t get their money by the end of the month I was officially without insurance. They let it slide the first three times, but I guess enough’s enough.
One of my co-workers didn’t take this news well. Rather than call the insurance company as I did later, she flipped out immediately. The Big Boss—the one who’s ultimately responsible for the insurance and who likes to play grabass with all the girls 25 years younger than him—wasn’t around. My boss, the asshat, is the toady who makes excuses for the Big Boss. He was on vacation in Texas that week. So my co-worker—who for the purposes of this blogpost I’ll call “The Bulldog”—calls the Big Boss’s second-in-command: his secretary, who I’ll call “No. 2”, for no particular reason. Honest.
The Bulldog calls No. 2 and screams at her on the phone; when she doesn’t get the answers she wants she hangs up on her. No. 2 comes downstairs, pissed off, and a shouting match ensues ‘twixt she and the Bulldog. Everyone in the office (except me, see below) gets involved. The threat of “calling the Labor Board” is made. Then the word “douchebag” is used.
(For the record, I’m out of the office on a home visit, doing my job, when this occurs. I don’t know anything about the letter yet, and I won’t hear about the chaos at the office until hours later.)
Predictably, when one handles an administrative issue such as the non-payment of insurance premiums by calling to the person who can get it fixed a “douchebag”, the result is less than satisfactory. Also, the original issue, i.e. the fact that the Big Boss is TAKING OUR FUCKING MONEY AND NOT PAYING OUR PREMIUMS WITH IT, gets lost, and it becomes all about unprofessional behavior in the office.
Not that I disagree with The Bulldog’s righteous indignation. In fact, when I got the letter I was ready to disjoint the Big Boss like a rotisserie chicken. But there’s a way to handle things.
Here’s how it all hashed out, a month ago: The premiums were paid at the last possible minute. I still have insurance. So far I haven’t got letter #5 (and I’d better not—fucking ever). Two of my co-workers, including The Bulldog, who referred to No. 2 as a “douchebag” and another who was also apparently too loud and/or antagonistic, were suspended for two days without pay. If everything I’ve heard is accurate, The Bulldog should have been fired, but then again, the Big Boss should be in jail for embezzlement, so I guess it works out evenly.
However, as of today, my agency’s uppance has come.
The State has come back for a follow-up, just to make sure we’re doing everything we said we would. Are we? The short answer is no.
My boss the asshat didn’t, as a rule, promote anyone to any kind of supervisory level, because he wants to be the King. That is, until he found out The State likes supervisors, because their work hours count for more with regards to financial reimbursement. So he relented and selected a nurse and a social worker and made them “coordinators” for their respective paradigms. (No, he didn’t ask me, but that’s ok. I take it as a sure sign he recognizes my competence.) “Coordinators” don’t make any more money and have no power at all, as being a supervisor under my boss is pretty much like playing the triangle in an orchestra. They get the title, and that’s it.
They’re an inspiration to the rest of us. We should aspire to be more like them in word and deed. Who is the social work coordinator, you ask? Why, The Bulldog, of course!
As I said many months back, my boss the asshat let go the one person who had a handle on The State and their fickle whims. He felt threatened by her competence. He was (correctly) afraid she’d make him look superfluous. The unfortunate side effect of not hiring competent people and not keeping people who are competent is that it’s completely against the best interests of the agency. As a result, no one has trained any new staff. Technically, training staff is the Program Director’s (i.e. Asshat’s) job, but he doesn’t do it. He doesn’t want anyone else to do it either, because he thinks that whoever’s doing the training will be seen as a supervisor. And he kinda always felt that what The State mandated was pretty much optional (especially if he felt it got in the way of making money), despite the fact it’s definitely NOT optional, that they can shut us down anytime, and they’re just looking for an excuse.
They won’t have to look hard this week. Several of the nurses I work with couldn’t find their asses with both hands, and the social workers, myself included, have been told so much contradictory information over the past few months that NO ONE is doing the same thing in the same way. Patient charts look like total butt; a result of the crazy amount of staff turnover my agency experiences as a matter of course. No one gets fired, especially the people who should be, but all the good ones leave because of the shenanigans that are routine. Who wants to put their license on the line committing fraud for a jackoff (i.e. The Big Boss) who has an assload of money to begin with?
I’ve been looking for a job for a long time, but haven’t found one yet. That’s ok with me, because I’ve come to some peaceful realizations: 1) I can, if necessary, collect unemployment if the agency closes, though I’ve never done so in my life and I‘d much rather have a job. 2) If my insurance is cancelled, I will sue the living Christ out of the Big Boss. I called the labor board already. With the stuff I know, he really, really, REALLY shouldn’t fuck with me on this, or anything else. 3) I don’t want to do this job or any kind of social work any longer. I’m done with it. I know what I want to do. I just need to find a way to do it.
In other words, all those who care about The Angry Piper and fear for his financial status should rest easy. I appreciate the support, but I’ve got this one handled perfectly. I am not in the least bit concerned, and neither should you be. I’ll post an update at the end of the week and let y’all know if I’m still employed.
Or maybe sooner, depending on The State. :)
posted by The Angry Piper at 6:51 PM
5 Comments:
For Profits should never do the Non Profits type work. There is a very interesting NY Times Article about this from about a month back, I will try to find it.
We can always use another beaker washer at my pharmaceutical company.
Hey, you'll actually get paid better doing that than any job that actually uses a humanities degree.
Call me, I’ll see what I can do.
Is "beaker washer" lab code for oral sex?
No, that would be "Pipette Calibration."
So, what ended up happening?
Post a Comment
<< Home