Last week, my wife was summarily fired from her position as a store manager for one of the largest bookstore chains in the world. She worked for the company for seven years, in three stores, rising from a part-time seasonal position to manager of a multi-million dollar store. The reason she was given for her firing was that “… her employees felt that they couldn’t work with her.”
Seems strange, doesn’t it? Over the years, the company has invested tens of thousands of dollars in training Jenn to perform a store manager’s duties. They’ve mentored her, interviewed her, flown her to training sessions by the latest management gurus, provided her with books, workshops and all sorts of learning materials to get her to this position of trust and authority. Her reviews have been uniformly excellent, her store is performing 20% above expectations, the secret shoppers who come into the store have given her high marks in all the observed categories. So, you would think that the company might weigh all those positives against such a fuzzy reason as “… her employees felt that they couldn’t work with her.”
Who are these employees? She doesn’t know because the company felt they had a responsibility to protect the privacy of the individuals who complained. She also doesn’t know because these employees never came to her or to her district manager with their complaints. They didn’t have to.
This company, generally regarded as a somewhat enlightened company, has instituded a policy called “We Listen.” The way it works is this: an employee who encounters a problem in his or her day-to-day duties is encouraged to call a toll-free number and report the problem to a voicemail system. They are allowed to remain anonymous, although they are promised that there will be no retribution if they choose to surrender their anonymity. The call is logged and information about the call is forwarded to district managers and regional managers, but not to the individual store manager who may be the subject of the complaint. It is then up to the district manager to decide whether or not to take action.
My wife received several complaints — all anonymous — over the past year. The complaints were often vague and contradictory: “She very rarely praises employees for their hard work”, “She spends too much time in the back office”, “She spends too much time on the sales floor”, “She delegates too much of her duties”, “She doesn’t let other people help with her managerial tasks.” The complaints often seemed to come right after someone was passed over for a promotion.
Her district manager sat down with her once to discuss an “Action Plan”. The company has instituted formal procedures for plans such as this, including forms filed in triplicate, with one copy going to the employee, one to the district manager and one to the Human Resources department at headquarters. Jenn’s district manager used an informal process, leading Jenn to believe that the problem wasn’t terribly serious. The regional manager was reported as lacking confidence in the complaints because they were all anonymous.
Still, Jenn felt paranoid, looking at all her employees with suspicion: Is this the person complaining about me? Are they all complaining about me? Are they smiling in my face and stabbing me in the back? She thought she knew who the trouble-makers were, but she couldn’t be sure. What also bothered her was that when she asked other store managers if they were getting “We Listen” complaints, most of them said, “no”. Maybe she was doing a poor job, she thought. Maybe she was a bitch. Maybe she was unlikable. Her self-confidence began to weaken, she was having trouble sleeping, she was miserable most of the time.
Eventually, I believe, it came down to this: The number and frequency of complaints became an issue to the higher-ups. The sheer number of calls must be indicative of a problem, right? If employees are having so many issues with the manager, then something must be wrong in that store. The complainers were anonymous, but the target of the complaints was well known, so any action would have to be taken against the source of the problem. Get rid of Jenn and the problem goes away. Shine a big enough spotlight on someone and you are sure to find some petty problem or impropriety. So, they inflated some technicalities and fired my wife. And despite the weak claims otherwise, it was because of the number of anonymous, vague complaints against her — not because of the content of any of the complaints.
I believe it’ll be for the best. She’ll find another job or use the time to pursue her long-dormant photography career. She’ll be less depressed and less paranoid. She’ll have more energy instead of having the life sucked out of her by phantoms and suspicions.
Meanwhile, in Ashcroft’s America, we have our own society-wide “We Listen” program. Although the scope of TIPS has been reduced, the intent is still there and still dangerous. Don’t like your boss? Just call the TIPS-line a few times and wait till the Feds start poking around. Can’t stand your neighbor? Call the local Child Protective Services bureau on them and watch as they haul their kids away. We already look at the parent of every child with a broken bone as a suspicious case, every black man as a potential criminal, every Middle Easterner as a terrorist suspect, every cop as a baton-wielding brute, every priest as a pederast. We’re empowered and encouraged now to act on our every suspicion, our every prejudice. The Salem Witch trials and the McCarthy red-hunts of the 50s are going to pale in comparison with what we are moving into.
And it’s time to ask yourself: could your life withstand the scrutiny of Big Brother’s gaze?
