I had to do something yesterday that I’ve never done before: fire someone.
It was a simple matter of insubordination that pissed me off.
The first time she did it, I made sure that what I wanted done was clear.
The second time she did it, I reminded her about the first time and gave her a stern lecture about hygiene and public food service.
And yesterday—the third time—late in the day— I said, “I’m sorry, dear, but I can’t have you working here without washing your hands before coming out of the bathroom. And I know you didn’t, because I can hear the water when the taps are used. And you’ve been told twice before, when you shouldn’t have had to be told at all. Clearly I can’t trust you to do what you say you will when I ask. I have to let you go.”
It may seem to be a harsh or even undeserved consequence for being forgetful— or likely just lazy— but I don’t care. If you can’t remember to wash your hands before coming out of the bathroom, what else are you forgetting? Not to pick your nose before serving food? I can’t have it here, and I can’t be listening all the time to make sure she does it. What about when I’m not here?
But boy, I feel like shit. All the doubts! Should I have given her yet another chance? Should I have been less intransigent? What else could I have done? Anything?
I suppose all her relatives won’t come here anymore. I don’t care about that. I care about what Dawn’s going to say when she gets here. I can almost hear it already: “Everybody forgets once in a while!” or “Oh oh. Who are we gonna get to take her place?”
We shall see.