I got to the office right on time the day after Christmas in 1974.
I was 18 and working for the local newspaper doing a job that doesn't exist anymore—running around town getting the final sign-off from advertisers before their ad ran. Pretty low-level job that has been replaced by email. But it was a place to start. I had dreams of being a reporter then.
After wrecking the company car and blowing a rod in mine, they told me to use one of the beat-up pickup trucks used for newspaper delivery.
So, the day after Christmas, I can't find my timecard, and went to the Personnel Office to see what was up. They told me I had been fired and if I wanted to know why, I'd have to see my boss. Final paycheck in hand, I went to his office. The door was closed, and his secretary wouldn't interrupt him. With nowhere to go, what with having been fired and all, I decided to wait him out. Sometime after noon, the coffee got to him and he had to dash to the restroom and deal with me.
He told me I was fired because I was using the truck over the Christmas Holiday. I wasn't, but he wouldn't listen to anything I had to say. Not completely clueless, I realized there was something else behind the termination, and left.
The next few months were very tough. It took me until May to get a full-time job working at a record shop. That job lasted over four years, ending when I left to go to college full-time. Most fun place I ever worked.
Many years later, I was in town and found my old boss, who was still doing the same job. I thanked him for firing me because had he not, inertia would have taken over and I probably would have stayed and maybe gotten a transfer to reporter, but without a degree, probably not. If I was lucky, I might someday take his place.
I told him I where I was working and what I thought my prospects were. It was a mean thing to do, but it felt good at the time. I cannot repeat what he said to me.
I no longer feel good about my actions that day. Who knows what was going on in his life then, or if the paper was having financial difficulties, or if the owner had a nephew who needed a job (the main duty was to keep the car out of the ditch—something I failed at miserably).
I wouldn't do it again. Nothing good came from it. And by firing me, he did me a favor.
