Broken Chains

Bear with me... drunken rant.

Yesterday, a friend of mine lost his job. A bullshit deal. Oh, I'm not saying he was innocent of wrong. But I don't feel he deserved to lose the job. And the reason he got into trouble in the first place bugs me. Kinda sets me off.

Friend and I went for a bike ride on my lunch. A certain white shirt was in the parking lot when we left. No sneaking, we left. Nice ride, he got to ride my brother's bike, and I got to ride a brand new Fat Boy. White shirt runs to plant manager the following morning.

Well, this particular shirt has a problem with me. I don't know what started it, but I do know that I've helped to sustain it. After he started running to the plant manager about petty things, instead of coming straight to me, I've started jacking with him. Maybe not a smart move, but I don't like being tattled on... for things that aren't even wrong, no less. My boss has chewed his ass about this, but it stops him not at all.

Morning comes and I'm asked about going on the ride. Not gonna lie, "Yes, I did. I was on lunch." Okay, that makes everything cool for me. Friend is a second shifter... they take lunches when they can. Sometimes early, sometimes late. Friend used his lunch for the ride. Unfortunately, he took another lunch, later. Of course, we are on the security cameras, and they see him leave twice.

My boss is now in an awkward situation. Had he known about it, he could have given a warning, or time off. The plant manager is the one who approached him. Little Miss White Shirt ran straight to him. Now this decision is an upper management thing. The manner in which this pisses me off... ineffable. I'll try to express some of it, if only as a stress relief.

There is a chain of command in the military, and some fragments in civilian life. It's my personal belief that all organizations and companies be run with one. "But they are," you say. Bull. They may have one on paper, but how many times have you seen it strictly followed? Ass kissers and snitches run wild, ignoring their immediate superiors and running to upper management. And too many times, THEY ARE REWARDED FOR IT!

A chain of command is not just an effective management strategy. It's also a show of respect. By talking with a superior, or in this case a peer, you are allowing him to take control of the situation. If he isn't able to contribute, control, help... whatever is asked of him, he is able to go to his superior, and so on. His employee, Marine, whatever... his problem. Allow him the chance to fix the situation.

As a Marine, I never was an NCO, but I did have positions of authority. I was a Vehicle Commander for a stretch, and the Fire Direction Center Chief for about a year and a half. I was a lance corporal, E-3, and most VCs were E4, E5s. FDC Chief is an E5 billet, or so I've been told. Shit, I'm rambling.

Anyway, if I had a problem with someone in my charge, I was responsible for taking care of things. If I knew that I couldn't get it done, I went to my section leader, who took care of things, or went further up to the platoon sgt. It' s not just for problems... requests also work in this way. You went up the chain, and did it proper. Skip a link or two, you may get results, but some of those are not going to be favorable to you. You can get your ass in serious trouble pulling that crap.

If you saw a Marine screwing up, you talked to him first, then went to his immediate and explained. It's his problem now. How far things go depends on what happens with his Marine when he talks to him. What matters is that you showed him respect by allowing him to police his own.

In this case at work, my boss had no chance, no warning. He was put into a bad situation by both Friend, and the ass-licking white shirt. He may have been able to save Friend's job if not for the harvester of dingleberries, but that was not to be.

What really torques me off is that "The Tongue" has gotten this position by being a superb rat. When he was just a lowly worker, he ran to the plant manager, before his boss, to rat out co-workers. His boss, didn't like it, but "The Tongue" is a good worker, so nothing happens. When his boss died from cancer last year, turd muncher and a foreman with over 20 years put in for the job. Muncher got it... and it wasn't because his new found peers wanted him. The owner wanted him!

I know, I know... it's life, adn life ain't fair. True. But fair or not, I'm still pissed. How I wish for a chance to use the frickin' "Way Back Machine" so that I could beat the everlovin' piss out of Blow Boy as a wee little lad. And I mean that as me being the wee lad. Assault and battery doesn't appeal to me, but you want to play grade school games, you should expect grade school reactions... and beatings. Nah, don't worry. I haven't smacked anyone in anger in almost twelve years. Ain't gonna do it... venting. And venting helps, or so I've heard.

Sounds like I'm blaming this all on L'il Tommy Tattletale. Maybe. But I do realize that if Friend hadn't gone riding with me, all would be cool for him. I feel bad because the shirt is always gunning for me, and I feel as if Friend took the round intended for me.

If you've read this much, you're tired of seeing no point to it... so I'll let you know: there really isn't a point to this except for the one on top of my head. I'm tired of trying to proofread this crap too, so I'll stop now. Thanks for letting me go off, and listning... or reading. I just can't figure out how the chain works at my place of employment.

Posted by That 1 Guy at June 26, 2005 12:08 AM | TrackBack