Quick…Call 911 – You’re Fired

I don’t even know where to start.  I swear to god this shit only happens to me and that I was put on this planet for some kind of cosmic amusement or something because that is the only explanation for why these things happen to me. Although perhaps this has something to do with why that nun told my mother that I had been “sent from hell to torment her” when I was 7…maybe it’s payback for that.

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What am I babbling on about you ask?  Well, let me ask you this…have you ever tried to fire someone only to have them call 911?  Yeah, I didn’t think so…I, however, have had that exact thing happen.  Before you even ask, no I didn’t assault anyone nor did I set anything on fire…this dialing of emergency services was not only totally unwarranted, but completely unrelated to anything I did.

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Where to begin….let’s see….previous management hired a staffing coordinator – we’ll just refer to her as Ghetto Bitch or GB for short, cause ya know…it’s accurate.  Well, GB had some issues and by issues I mean that our client called us and informed us that she was never to set foot in their offices again under penalty of death and/or dismemberment.  This was by no means the only reason for GB’s termination, she was also crazy, incompetent, unethical, unintelligent and lazy as hell. The call we received from our client just gave us the documentation/reason we were waiting for.

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As a somewhat unrelated side note, but to further my claims of GB’s unintelligence she once decided to swap out her (older and not working) computer for another computer in our office that no one used.  Keep in mind that this newer computer also had a brand new, flat panel monitor and GB had a giant monitor from approximately 1987.  She switches the CPU and then proceeds to plug her old monitor into the new CPU.  I asked her why she didn’t want the newer monitor and her response was “Because I already have everything saved on this screen”.  The hell?

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Needless to say, I was confused by this.  That is until I looked at her monitor and realized that she saved all of her files directly to her desktop and was under the impression that they were actually saved on the screen rather than on the hard drive and that if she got a new monitor she would no longer have these files. No amount of explanation on my part could convince her otherwise.

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At any rate…GB must have known her time with us was coming to an end what with all the closed door meetings, whispered conversations and multiple phone calls to HR.  Since she had been dropped off by her boyfriend and didn’t have transportation, we made the decision to have “the conversation” at the end of the day.

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About 10:00 I hear GB on the phone with her mother and notice that she’s crying.  I don’t know why I did this (because I really didn’t care), but I asked her what was wrong.  She just kind of looked at me and shrugged her shoulders and went back to her conversation.  She was also packing up her desk and emptying the text messages out of her company issued cellphone.  Whatever.

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I decide that I can’t sit here and listen to her crying and bitching to her mother any longer and decide to go downstairs for  some fresh air a cigarette.  On my way out the door my boss asks me if GB is crying and I inform her that yes, she is and that I don’t really know why.  No big deal…off I go to pollute the air step outside.

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I get about 20 feet down the hall, over to the elevator and break my damn cigarette so I turn around and go back into the office for a replacement.  Keep in mind that this probably took 60 seconds at the most.

I walk back into my office where I see GB on the cellphone and my boss standing in front of her desk with this very odd look on her face.  I announce that I broke my cigarette and that I was just running in for a new one, but my boss kind of catches my eye and gives me this weird look and asks me to stay in the office with her.

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This is when I notice that GB had been giving directions to our office to someone.  Well…about 20 seconds later, GB holds the phone out to us.  Never says a word, just holds the phone out and expects one of us to take it, so Sarah did.  At this point the nice 911 operator that GB had called informed us that he had dispatched paramedics and they should be here shortly.  So, I ask GB what was wrong and she starts talking to Jesus while clutching her chest and doing her best Fred Sanford impersonation.

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I shit you not.  GB just up and called 911….never once mentioned to anyone in the office that something was wrong or even that she wasn’t feeling good….she just up and called 911.  WHO THE FUCK DOES THAT?!?!

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Well, one fire truck, one emergency services truck, one ambulance and about 20 various HFD and EMS people later they carted GB’s ass off on a stretcher.  However in the process of getting her oversized carcass out of my office:

1) The issue somehow changed from having chest pains to abdominal pains

2) She all of the sudden claimed that she was dizzy, going to pass out, too weak to get her ass on the gurney

3) Then the issue changed from her having abdominal pains to her having pains “lower in her lady parts”.  (who the fuck calls them “lady parts”…this isn’t’ a Fergie song for fuck’s sake!  then again…perhaps “exploding va-jay-jay” isn’t appropriate either, and yet that was the diagnosis I came up with)

4) She leaned over my desk and attempted to vomit

5) I told her she’d damn well better puke in a trash can rather than on my desk

6) Informed the ambulance driver that he could take her to any hospital in the city other than the closest one to our office – which also happens to be the client who told us she could never come back there (not that she knew this yet).

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We did debate firing her while she was being hauled out on the gurney but decided the conversation would probably be slightly more effective when she didn’t have an oxygen mask strapped to her face.  Then again, maybe not.  Perhaps this should be new company protocol…call someone into your office for the termination conversation and hand them an oxygen mask.

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Oh…and here’s the kicker.  I called GB’s fiancé to tell him what was going on.  His response?  “Damn, why she have to go and do this shit now?  I’m on my way to meet my parole officer and I can’t get there yet because he’ll never believe that’s why I’m not coming to our appointment”.  Is that priceless or what?