My new job: Y I did it

I went into work like any ordinary day–at least as any ordinary day could feel at a job you’ve been working at for four days–when I was greeted by a blonde woman I had never seen before.

“My name is Libby,” she said, “and I am the new director of this YMCA branch.” We had been going without a director for since the day I started. The woman who interviewed me, hired me, coordinated all my prejob screening (background check and drug testing) had mysteriously vanished the day prior to my first day of work. Well, mysteriously vanished to me. No one at the Y seemed concerned with her disappearance. Last time I spoke to her she said, “I’ll call you tomorrow to schedule your first day.” Two days later, I got a call from someone else informing me that Penny was no longer with the Y and could I come in to start that afternoon (yes, one sentence like that). I think Penny got fired, because she gave no indication that she was going to quit, but that’s not relevant to this story. Or maybe it is.

Libby and I exchanged short pleasantries before she got to the heart of the matter: “I wanted to talk to you about your performance so far here at the YMCA. This is difficult because this is my first time meeting you, so I didn’t witness any of this firsthand.”

“Okay…” My first week had been tremendously difficult. Because we lost our director, we had been short-staffed. My very first day I was given a group of 14 kids to supervise–by myself–with no guidance whatsoever. I felt like the new kid at school–only instead of being a student, I was supposed to be in charge. I had no idea what the rules were, what the policies were, when snack time occurred, what games they were allowed to play, or pretty much anything (however, I was given a T-shirt!). With the lack of a director, one coworker (for the purposes of this tale, we’ll call her Broom Hilda) took it upon herself to be in charge, but she was no help. I found myself asking the kids how things were done. Obviously, that was not a good idea: “But we always get two snacks” and “we’re allowed to play Wii whenever we want” were two of the lies I fell for.

On top of that, a handful of kids tried to test me. They refused to do things I asked of them, just to see what they could get away with. Whenever I tried to discipline them with timeouts or taking away privileges, the self-appointed supervisor told me I wasn’t allowed to do that (“This is supposed to a fun environment without discipline or punishment”). It made things much worse. Every time I told a kid something Broom Hilda would completely overrule me. I had no say and the kids were starting to realize it.

Reading from a sheet of paper, Libby started to rattle off my infractions. “You took time off to go on vacation?”

“No, I needed a couple days off to wrap up end of the year stuff for my other job. I told Penny this during the interview.” That seemed to satisfy her, so she moved on to the next item on her list.

“Did you tell the kids to ‘line up,'” she asked.

Struck me as an odd question. Between trips to-and-from the bathroom, outside recess breaks, and snack time, I probably instructed the kids to line up about 37 times a day. “Yes I did.”

She slowly sucked a deep breath. “Yeah…we don’t use the phrase ‘line up’ at the Y. We say ‘gather round’ or ‘bunch up,’ but never ‘line up.'”

“I was not aware of that.”

“That’s okay,” she said as she scribbled some notes. “And it says here that you used a whistle?”

“Sure–got it right here,” I said and pulled it out of my pocket.

Libby reacted with such a horrendous shriek you’d think I pulled a severed foot out of my pocket. “You’re not supposed to use a whistle here at the Y.”

“I got a dozen kids running around outside all doing their own thing: how else am I supposed to get their attention?”

“You can use the techniques taught in the Title 22 training.”

“I haven’t had my training. I’ve only worked here for four days.” Penny mentioned the training during the interview. It was supposed to be an introduction YMCA policies and procedures, as well as CPR and first aid training. Penny wanted me to start my training before I started actually working, but since she went the way of the dodo, I never had it.

Libby made a note of that and moved on to the next question. “Did you tell the children that had to keep their hands on the wall outside the restroom when you took them on bathroom breaks?”

The YMCA’s policy is that kids aren’t allowed to go to the bathroom alone–I have to take the entire group outside if one child has to go. That being said, only one kid is allowed in the bathroom at a time (maybe they’re afraid of kids crossing the stream), so the rest of us have to stand outside waiting. I had a problem because some kids went out and used the jungle gym or played kickball when we were supposed to be using the potty. It became impossible to keep track of all of the kids (and the first rule of childcare is to never lose your flock). One way of maintaining order was having the kids keep their hand on the wall outside the bathroom unless I dismissed them to use the toilet.

I explained this to Libby. She made some notes and proceeded to the next question. This process repeated for 15 minutes. She probably had close to a dozen questions about incidents that happened–all along the same lines of what I previously discussed. “Did you tell them to sit down in the grass? “Did you allow them to pick teams for kickball? “Did you play kickball on back-to-back days?” As she read the infractions, I felt like I was a crime lord being read a lengthy list of charges at during an indictment. Even though I felt I had done no wrong, I found myself getting extremely defensive. My rule “violations” were numerous–and all completely absurd. As I heard her rattle them off, I felt like I was a bad person–like I had done something tremendously wrong–when all I was doing was trying to get by.

When she finally reached the end, I had aged 43 years and was in desperate need for a hairscut. “Right now we’re going to put you on administrative leave. I’m going to forward these notes to Human Resources and they will make a decision on your case.” Great, so I was being judged by a person I just met and sentenced buy a person who I never will.

The next day I got a phone call from the self-imposed supervisor, Broom Hilda. I know the list was of her creation. I got the sense she didn’t like me from the beginning. She never had my back. She never made small talk with me. She didn’t laugh at my jokes (and I’m a funny guy). The violations I made were absurd. Instead of telling me not to do them, she wrote it down and reported me. What a bitch.

Anywhos, she called and left a message on my voicemail. “We have your final check here. You need to come down and fill out the termination paperwork. We’d like for you to come by sometime today.”

Fat chance. They chose to fire me. I’m not wasting my time to drive down to them and fill out paperwork unless I was getting paid for it. They could mail me my check.

So that ends my brief time at the YMCA. I really feel like I caught a raw deal. I was never given much of a chance to succeed. I had a bad break because my boss was fired before I could start. In literature, that’s called foreshadowing–I guess I should have just known better.