“Jim, what’s up?”
“Melie, that cook I hired two months ago? He’s on his way over to your office.” Jim’s voice cracked over the phone.
“O—kay. What am I supposed to do with him? This isn’t the Principal’s Office, you know.”
“Oh, you’re funny. I just fired him. He’s on probation still. I . . . I didn’t like his attitude.”
“Guess he couldn’t take your bullying?” Melie ventured. “Great.” (Pause) “I’ll exit him, but will you please try to give me some notice next time?”
She hung up the phone and buzzed Arielle on the intercom. “Expect one unhappy camper coming up from Dining Hall.” Seconds later, Jim again.
“This guy’s a bit angry . . .”
“Uh huh,” Melie hung up. The intercom buzzed again.
“And—he’s got his knives with him.”
“His . . . knives?
“He’s a cook, remember? His knives are in his bag.”
3:30 p.m., and according to Arielle, the cook had arrived, slamming the door, and was pacing back and forth in the Reception area, unnerving the other occupants: a toothless transfer candidate, an applicant taking a typing test, and another pressed against the wall, stepping out of the woolen slacks she wore under her dress.
Melie propped her Timex up on her desk. She pressed the panic button hanging around her neck to summon Security.
3:45 p.m.: Arielle came into Melie’s office, frowning. “I dunno . . . this guy’s making me nervous. Where’s Security?”
“Give it a few more minutes,” said Melie, biting her lower lip. Where the hell is Security?
Geena bounced in. “What is going on?” Melie shooed her away.
“Stay in your office,” Melie barked.
Geena’s hands rose to the sides of her face, her mouth opened wide. “Oooh.” A perfect parody of The Scream.
4:01 p.m.: Arielle let Melie know the cook was getting more and more agitated. Melie knew she could stall no longer.
She was wearing her straight black wool dress with all the zippers at the wrists and from midsection up to her throat. She felt reasonably safe. She had not forgotten to put on her lip seal that morning either.
She strode into Reception, easily spotting her exit interview candidate, the cook whom she had never met before: a rough-looking character in a T-shirt. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to extend her hand. He took it in his vise-like grip and shook vigorously, putting on display muscled forearms pitted with scars and tattoos. Forcing a smile, Melie showed him into Geena’s office, which opened right off the Reception area and seemed safer than her own back office.
“You can leave your bag on the sofa,” she instructed.
He obediently put the heavy bag down.
Geena sat behind her desk, the cook near the door at the tiny conference table, Melie across from him against the back wall. Crikes, Melie thought, never back yourself into a corner with a disgruntled employee! At least that’s what they said at last month’s “Preventing Violence in Today’s Workplace, a one-day workshop for HR professionals.” Too late now!
“I understand this is your last day, Carlos. Can you tell me what’s been going on?”
As Carlos described what a frigging tyrant Jim was, she focused on providing the ultimate in compassion and understanding, careful not to validate his bad behavior in any way. She made sure to keep her voice steady when she asked, “Carlos, is it true you threatened to poison the salad bar?”
Silence. He looked sheepish for a moment then shot up out of his seat, gesticulating wildly. “You don’t know what that little guy does to you, how he makes you feel—”
“I understand,” Melie broke in, “but you know we can’t keep you on after a threat like that.”
Carlos crumbled then, falling back into his seat and putting his head in his hands. Melie shot a look at Geena who passed the tissues. Carlos grabbed a wad and Melie felt she could stop holding her breath now. Situation defused, right? Boy, am I good!
Melie was winding up the exit interview, telling him when to expect his last check, how to apply for unemployment benefits, where to seek medical coverage, all while moving toward the office door. Without a word of warning the cook bounded up and darted out of the office. Melie and Geena exchanged a quick frightened look, but before they had time to act, he had returned and plunked his bag (with the knives) down on the conference table. He started unzippering it.
Melie flew past him out of the room, guiltily leaving Geena trapped behind her desk. Peering back into the room, Melie saw him take out several lethal-looking specimens, sharp as shark teeth, and line them up on the table. He held them up, one by one, and seemed to be fingering them. What do I do now?
She walked back into the room, assuming what she hoped was a stern and professional demeanor. Squaring her narrow shoulders, drawing herself up to her full 62 inches, she declared, “It’s time for you to go now, Carlos.”
The cook hesitated and looked a bit lost. He had a long knife in his hand and was running his fingers absentmindedly along its cutting edge.
“You’ll be happier somewhere else,” she stammered. “Away from Jim.”
He looked Melie up and down and shrugged. She and Geena watched as he lifted the tools of his trade, one by one, off the table, and lovingly placed them back in his bag. When there was one knife left, he stepped back on one leg and lunged forward in Melie’s direction, making a little Z flourish in the space between them. Then he packed that knife up too, folded in the unemployment and benefits papers, zippered up the bag, and stood rock still.
Gulping, Melie gestured toward the door. “Bye now,” she squeaked. She clumsily pantomimed his walking out the door.
Carlos squinted at her, then at Geena, shaking his head as if to say, “What pitiful creatures.” He nodded once, a bitter nod. Then he was gone.
Human Resource Training Tips
(Derived from “Dream Job, Wacky Adventures of an HR Manager” by Janet Garber, 2016)
- Try hard not to back yourself into an office with a knife-wielding employee who’s just been fired (for cause).
- Best not to look to a crew of three gouramis in the Employment office fish tank for strategies on managing your life.
- Call the auditors to investigate any missing co-payments before the registrar/suspect preempts you by filing a complaint with the Human Rights Commission.
- Suppose once you let down your hair and instead of listening to another tale of woe, you tell an employee your problems. Oh, is that why she’s sitting in your chair now?
- You’ve tried walking around the block, the gym, hiking and yoga, nothing but yogurt and bran flakes for dinner. Maybe you need to take more drastic action to combat those dreams of yours?!
- Yes, you are the Rescuer of Mistreated Employees. You find solutions to their every problem. Boy, are you good! Where, pray tell, is your life?
- When you’re the big boss and for Christmas you give your staff those traveling sewing kits, the ones hotels usually give you for free, with six strands of colored thread, a safety pin, and as a bonus, a needle threader, don’t expect undying loyalty.
- Work-life balance, what the heck is that?
- If you’re pinning your romantic hopes on a man whose closest connection is to a red, green, and yellow macaw in a filthy cage, think again? Or not.
- Don’t bring your problems to work. Ha!
Slightly abridged excerpt from Dream Job, Wacky Adventures of an HR Manager, by Janet Garber, copyright 2016, http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/Melie5.
Janet Garber, late-stage Ph.D. dropout from the University of Rochester, recently retired from a LONG, happy career in Human Resources to devote herself to full-time writing. Her comic debut novel is “Dream Job, Wacky Adventures of an HR Manager (www.lulu.com/spotlight/Melie5). Please do not follow the advice therein! Visit
Garber at www.janetgarber.com.
