To Mr. Halfer


 While I owe you nothing in the way of an explanation, I do want to make things clear between us, especially over who is boss. Ever since you started here, you seemed to believe you worked for yourself, coming and going with an alarming independence. At first I thought you enjoyed your work. After fifteen years, the store may have grown a little stuffy, and you seemed to relieve the tensions a little.

 But I have since concluded this attitude to be disrespect for me, and I've warned you against calling me "Daddy-o" or "Big Cheeze" since it has infected other employees. Some of my most trusted people have been "flipping me peace signs" and wishing me a "Groovy" night.

 But the true nature of your disruption became very clear at last week's employee meeting when you proposed to put my list of job responsibilities up for a vote.

 This is no democracy. I choose what work is to be done by whom. When I brought this to your attention, you called me a fascist-- as if there is something wrong with efficiency. I rather respect Mussolini for his ability to make the trains run on time-- to use your example.

 Perhaps your call for a vote was only a joke. But others took it seriously and I nearly fired the lot of you, and I would have-- if I didn't fear winding up hiring back a store full of radicals just like you.

 I tried to limit your influence by transferring you to the night crew, but the events of last night proved me wrong.

 One of your duties was to clean the bathrooms which were not done. Your note rambled on about the perversions of your fellow man, but did not say why you failed to wash the feces from the floor and walls.

 So you retched.

 You didn't even bother to clean up your vomit either!

 I am less interested in basic human rights, which your note so dutifully ranted about, than clean bathrooms. Which is why your check is in the mail-- minus the cost of one full-time employee for cleaning the men's room after you.


monologue menu

Main Menu

email to Al Sullivan