Your Boss Doesn't Really Want To Know What You Think (eBook)

Michael Paul Reisenwitz (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
136 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-3509-8338-8 (ISBN)

Infos

A must-read for all Gen Xers. This novella is about love, hypocrisy, betrayal, leadership failure, public service and most importantly family. What should an employee do when their career and retirement are on the line but NO ONE is listening? As an American and a U.S. veteran I am still shocked and saddened by the actions of my former employer.

Published by Pocono Eagle, LLC

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The strongarm tactics used by people I trusted were shameful. What happened to my family was very avoidable. As an American and a U.S. veteran I am still shocked and saddened by the actions of my former employer. A little communication goes a long way but what does any employee do when no one is listening? Or following the employee handbook? My story is unique because of the extraordinary steps used by my employer to try to bully me into signing legal documents. Today's lesson for everyone is never, never, never sign legal documents without your own legal review. Period. On the surface, my story is quite simple. My employer ambushed me at a routine meeting with some expensive attorney shoving documents in my face. The attorney said you are demoted and you must sign here and sign here. After almost twenty years at my company, I was a department manager for a public utility. The documents presented to me were a demotion and reassignment to an entry-level position. The company was kind enough to include a nice reduction in pay as a bonus. Even more incredible is that this upper management and HR decision was based on alleged performance issues to an employee with a spotless record. You read that correctly. An important life lesson is to keep your cool even under extreme pressure. This is the point in the story when one wants to stand up and punch Dough Boy the manager with too much hair gel right in the face. I do not advocate this action but for those few of you who have done this, my hat goes off to you. I bet it feels really good at the time watching Dough Boy on the floor squirming around like a turtle on its back. However, actions have consequences. The key is to not give your employer a reason to fire you. If you start mouthing off or take a swing at someone, you have just sealed your fate. A wise person keeps their cool and then does exactly what the company has done to you go out and get yourself a really good law firm. Then kick their ass!

Textauszug

Say Hello To My Little Friend

 

 

 

Chapter One 

My story begins in the popular lovers’ destination of the Pocono Mountains located in northeastern Pennsylvania. We did not have a red, heart-shaped bathtub in our home.

I was born one of six children and raised in the very small village of Cresco (population 22) about a hundred miles due north of Philadelphia. I still live on the same street I grew up on but in a different home now.

I have a lot more money these days. I moved out of the family single-wide trailer and now got me a double-wide with a swamp cooler! Don’t laugh, they work.

There are very few locals left in the area. I’m told my great-great grandfather Godfrey Reisenwitz was one of three people credited with the formation of Barrett Township in 1859. Barrett Township is a beautiful area encompassing the scenic villages of Cresco, Mountainhome, Buck Hill Falls, Skytop & Canadensis. A truly beautiful part of America with awesome hiking trails nearby.

Barrett Township is a great place to live. However, the area is no stranger to state and even national news. Some readers may remember the now infamous Eric Frein 50-day manhunt for murdering state policeman Corporal Bryon Dickson and severely wounding Trooper Alex Douglass.

In Barrett, who could forget the not-so-famous “Juggalo” murder, the Cowman of Canadensis, the murder of John Leonard, or my personal favorite the Barrett Pizza Mafia©? Around here it’s like the movie The Godfather, “Leave the gun, take the calzone©”.

As a very young man in the military, I remember being teased when I wrote home to my family. I was not being teased for writing home but rather for the mailing address. At the time, I would simply write on the envelope my mother’s name and then “General Delivery, Cresco, PA 18326”.

My military brethren would say man, what backwoods did you come from? You don’t even have a street name or a house number.

I would often joke back that we were far too poor to afford fanciful things like street names or house numbers. Those things were for the hoity-toity types who live in Buck Hill Falls, as my mother would say.

I could also add that a Cunnerman1 like me don’t know how to read or write so street names and house numbers would also be pointless.

I joined the Marines to serve my country and because the judge thought it was a good idea too. If any readers remember the famous quote from the 1990’s movie Michael, “I’m not that kind of angel”. My therapist encourages me to use pop culture references over throwing chairs whenever possible.

My military occupational specialty, more commonly known as MOS, was 0861, or at the time a Forward Scout Observer.

A very cool job for someone who loves to be in the woods, blow things up, and was raised with friends who routinely threw lit M-80s at each other. Ahhhh, the good old days.

During my military service, I did not serve in any active war zones. I do remember being very scared and sitting on a runway for several days during the time of the U.S. bombing of Libyain 1986.

The only real action I saw was in the Philippines during the Imelda Marcos Shoe Rebellion. Nothing can really prepare one for a shoe rebellion. In the Philippines, the Demonyo wears Prada and everything else!

Like any woman, Imelda was not going to part with her lavish shoe collection without a fight. She’s clearly had some expert training. Imelda can throw a Dolce & Gabbana shoe like a boomerang.

I’m not kidding. There is a credible rumor that Imelda once cut an enemy soldier in half with a D&G slingback just like that guy Oddjob from James Bond.

Basic training at Parris Island did not prepare me for hand-to-hand footwear. I was up to my neck in Jimmy Choo’s. Sadly, I’ve never gotten that close to a pair since.

Our mission (Operation Bundy) was clear. We were to capture Imelda alive and return her plus any shoes or handbags with tags still on them back to the citizens of the Republic of the Philippines.

However, Imelda was determined not to get caught. It was amazing. I’ve never seen a woman run that fast. It was like watching a gazelle in stilettos!

The rest of the world may not know what happened to Imelda’s multi-million-dollar shoe collection. But I do. To avoid capture, that crazy chick surrounded Malacañang Palace with her taxpayer-paid shoe collection.

Even with heavy equipment, it took our battalion over a week to break through the triple-canopy Versace pumps.

For the female Marines in my battalion, it was an extremely difficult operation. Way too many soles were lost.

To this day, I still have a pair of signed Gucci loafers hanging in my man cave from the Palace. Sadly, I may have to auction them off now that my retirement benefits have been cut in half.

Where was I? Oh yea, talking about my MOS. As the name implies a forward scout observer is attached to the front-line defenses and then stealthily moves ahead of the pack to find the enemy.

Once the enemy was located, my job would be to use my trusty PRC-25 radio to communicate with artillery, mortars, aircraft, or naval gunfire (my personal favorite). I would then select the best firepower available, establish the target grid coordinates and adjust fire as needed.

My MOS was intended to soften the enemy before the rest of my team arrived. This of course was long before global positioning satellites. It was important to have solid map-reading skills to make sure you don’t drop bombs on yourself or friendlies.

Now if it were up to me, I would have used the 16-inch armor-piercing rounds found on the Iowa-class battleships for every mission.

The ammo is so large that even if you miss the target the noise and shockwave should kill them anyway. Hey, who doesn’t get excited about shooting a 2700-pound bullet with a range of over twenty-three miles?

My four years in the Marines were some of the best years of my life. Basic training at Parris Island is a vacation spot like no other on Earth.

For some reason, my teenage mind thought it would be a lot more like the movie Stripes. I had visions of leading a team of people (mostly women) to test pilot the new EM-50 Urban Assault Vehicle in Italy. Idioto!

At Parris Island, I once dug an entire grave to bury a single sand flea. Unbeknownst to me, the platoon sergeant and this particular sand flea were friends. The sergeant was very unhappy when I killed his friend and he wanted me to give the flea a proper burial.

I cannot remember which recruit found the eight-foot alligator in our training area at Parris Island. I’m sure he remembers.

 

Where the gator was found is a hoot. Some lucky would-be Marine found the leftover dinosaur in the shallow pond below the

Slide for Life training obstacle. Slide for life? They weren’t kidding.

Either Leatherneck or Marine magazine covered the story. I’m told this is not the first time a gator was found in the training area. Maybe a fence would help?

Hey, we’re Marines. I know what the drill instructors would say. Wrestling a gator is simply good training. One never knows what one will run into during battle.

I was pleased no follow-up story was written that may or may not have included a new pair of boots and a couple of belts for the First Sergeant.

During my four-year tour, I was stationed at the massive military base Camp Pendleton in southern California. I spent three years at Pendleton and one year overseas stationed in Okinawa, Japan.

In addition to the Philippines, I was fortunate to spend time in other countries including Thailand and South Korea.

I’m not sure if one can fully appreciate the quality of life Americans enjoy unless one has seen the extreme poverty found in other nations. Americans are truly blessed and have much to be thankful for in their daily lives.

My return from overseas was on a ship that participated in Fleet Week arriving in San Francisco Bay in 1987. Traditionally, as the ships maneuvered through the harbor, U.S. service personnel in their best uniforms would line up around the perimeter of the flight deck. These ships are very large so one can look down from the flight deck and see all the smaller vessels.

As we all looked down from the flight deck in our smoking hot dress blues, there were several small boats around the bow of the ship. Some had signs that said, “War mongers not welcome”. I was so young and dumb that I was confused about who they could be talking about.

At first, I was a little ticked off. In South Korea, I don’t recall ever going to a village and not receiving a warm welcome. From the very young to the elderly, I enjoyed talking with all the locals I met in South Korea, the Philippines, and other countries.

So now I come back home to the States, and I have people following my ship with unflattering signage. And then I smiled.

At that moment I realized all was good. The 1st amendment is alive and well. I serve to protect our rights and the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances. Apparently, this person had a grievance but I doubt it was with me personally.

After returning to the States, my last year was spent back at Pendleton with a very small and somewhat crazy airborne unit called 1st ANGLICO.

If I remember...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 23.5.2025
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Wirtschaft ► Betriebswirtschaft / Management ► Personalwesen
• ISBN-13: 979-8-3509-8338-8 / 9798350983388