Mike is officially out of work. When he resigned, although he really wanted to use a certain “f-you” expletive and leave, he decided to be professional about things. So he gave three weeks notice, instead of the customary two. The day after Labor Day was to be his last day.
Yesterday, he was informed that three weeks wasn’t necessary, two was sufficient, and his last day needed to be before the end of the month. The “cheap bastards” (his words) didn’t want to pay him for the holiday. Or for his health insurance coverage through the end of September. This, after 25 years of service to the company.
Now, I really think “f-you” would have been appropriate there. I’m sure it was even more tempting to say it then. He didn’t. Instead, he just packed up what was left of his personal belongings and left.
Originally, he was going to stick it out ’til the end of the day. “Why wait,” I said to him. “Just leave now.” So he did.
Now I have a househusband! Perhaps he’ll be at my beck and call as I slave away to bring home the bacon. He can bring me coffee, and make me lunch. Keep my ice-water topped off, even.
Uh, maybe not. I’ll let you know how THAT one plays out.
NOTE: the above image, which really looks nothing like my dear Hubby, who certainly does not smoke, is a bastardized version of the image found HERE. I hate imageless posts, they’re just boring.
Now, for some STUPID news… there’s a tropical storm tormenting Florida. A man described as an “experienced kite-boarder and all-around great guy” decided it would be a good time to catch the breeze. Wanna see what happened?
He may be a nice guy, and I’m sorry to see him hurt. But, DUH!