...and stay out!
Wow.
I mentioned earlier that I entered into an argument with my manager about hours being worked up.
Well, I called my recruitment agency Monday morning complaining, and asking if I had any legal standing to demand pay for the hours I worked. I also asked them to remain discreet.
Come 4pm, my manager walks over and asks if he can talk to me outside.
He tells me that my recruitment agency called, and that he has decided it is in our best interests for me to not come to work anymore.
Officially fucking fired.
What a fucking child. I dob on him and he retaliates by firing me.
What a fucking cock.
I guess I shall recall the full story here.
So.
We are contracted for 80 hour fortnights. Last fortnight I had to stay back and extra 5 hours because of meetings running overtime and having to get stuff prepared for meetings.
These extra hours were able to be "saved up" to go toward the APEC summit compulsory day off in September. Not really a problem.
Except on the Monday I was sick, so I figured that these extra hours should go toward that day instead. I figure it's within my rights to get paid for hours that I have worked.
So I hand in my timesheet last Friday, and my manager says that he won't sign the timesheet with 77 hours on it - that I have to resubmit it with only 72 hours on it.
He tells me this during morning tea. I say that it's illegal, and that I will call the recruitment agency about my rights.
He leaves shortly after to go back to his desk.
I decide to go tell him that I didn't want to butt heads over it, and find him emailing the recruitment agency telling them that I will be calling soon. Fucker.
I decide that it wasn't worth arguing with him about the timesheet and yield; I resubmit the 72 hour timesheet.
After leaving work, I decide that I have a fucking right to get paid for what I have worked, and call my recruitment agency and tell them about his bullying and illegal policy.
Unfortunately, Maria (she who is in charge of TC) wasn't in, so I talked to Amy about it. She agreed, and even said that she knows what my manager is like. She left a note for Maria to call me on Monday morning.
Come Monday, she hadn't yet called. I called her. She was like "Oh, I was meant to call you!" Yes you were, Maria. Why didn't you?
So I talked with her about it, and she was fucking useless. She asked if I wanted to jeopardise my job over it. This shouldn't jeopardise my job, but I said yes - that I was sick of the mis-management.
She said she'd have to talk to her manager about it, and would call me back.
Come 4pm, my manager walks over and asks if he can talk to me outside...
Fuckwit.
So I pack up my stuff, send a goodbye, fuck you email, and head over to the pub with Josh and Leanne for a pint of Old.
So, there you go.
I'm going to visit my recruitment agent, find out what exactly happened. I'm also going to call workplace relations to find out if it was legal a) to pay like that or b) to fire me like that.
Fuckers.
So. I'm now a free man... restricted only by what meagre money I have paid off of my credit card and by what money I have coming to me.
I am applying for jobs this week, although I didn't today because I was down at Newport, and won't tomorrow, as I'm heading up to Newcastle for the Black Sabbath concert.
Wish me luck.
