A New Nickname for Grandy

Shortly before my health threw me under the bus took a minor step backwards, Grandy had what she would refer to as a "verbal vomit" with her HR department.

It wasn't intentional. I promise!

It was brewing...and actually quite resembled my A Telegram to our Company post. Really it was a lot like that, but actually worse.

The conversation consisted of "ENOUGH!!"...blah vomit blah... "You want us to take it in the shorts and send you a Hallmark card to boot." ...blah vomit blah... "You have no idea how hard people are working...nor do you care!" ...blah vomit blah... "I got over the whole 'lucky to have a job' emotion 2 weeks after the layoff and now I wonder who got the better end of the deal." ...vomit vomit vomit.

Oh yeah. Grandy went there. Yes she DID!

After the hour-long call with the HR Director, Grandy panicked and realized...um...that could go bad. Well, Grandy's boss wasn't there that day but she knew she didn't like to learn of things through others. So Grandy's next call was to her boss on her cell.

It went something like this:

"HI!! Um...er...You might be getting a call from HR." ...pause... "I didn't mean to, it just kinda happened." ...pause... "I would claim the twinkie defense, if I could eat a twinkie." ...pause...

Finally, after an eternity of silence from her she asks, "What did you do?"

I repeated my conversation providing MOST of the vomit recap.

Her response, "Alright. Thanks for letting me know."

"Sorry!" I told her.

"I know," she said.

The meltdown incited call from the CEO to me, a meeting with the Director and VP and Boss, and a team meeting.

The day I learned I had to have yet another surgery, she called me to her office. I was FREAKED because now they didn't have to keep me. I can be a trouble maker, and I've seriously stepped in it this time. The only thing that could save Grandy right now is that she is DARN good at what she does.

She comes to bring me to her office and says, "Come here, my little Molotov."

She was very sweet and re-assuring. My outburst somehow became a catalyst to open the lines of communication. Workloads were being looked at. Grandy actually had her voice heard, and then had to go have surgery.

I worked very hard with the temp they brought in. I purposely pushed off the surgery as long as pain would allow so this could be done and my team wasn't carrying too much of a burden. But the time came and I had to leave my desk to a very competent temp.

Well...guess what...

Molotov Mary returns to work tomorrow.

Wish THEM luck!

I'll see you all here tomorrow.