FIRE ME: DO ME A FAVOR

Right after graduate school, I accepted a job offer with a Fortune 500 company. I clicked my conservative pumps together three times and marched into the chrome and glass corporate headquarters. Shrugging off my navy blue suit jacket and rolling up my preppy tailored sleeves, I dove into the paperwork with passion and purpose.

My boss was a mid-level advertising executive wannabee, who fairly cowered every time the top tailored suits appeared on our floor. The classic sycophant, Bob would pick up his phone and begin tapping his computer keys aggressively, whenever the brass showed up.

Of course, the minute the elevator doors closed again, he would order the departmental administrative assistant to cart the executive requests down the hall to me. Without ever saying so, she and I shared an understanding; our boss was helpless on his own.

What Bob failed to realize was that his young, green junior staffer was gaining wonderful experience and building a bulging portfolio, while he sipped his coffee and tossed his wimpy weight around in his tiny advertising dynasty. My file grew daily, with executive speeches, ghostwritten feature articles, new product roll-out promotions and more. Soon, my Rolodex overflowed with business cards from Wall Street, wire services, advertising agencies and other corporations.

Then it happened.

Less than six months after my hire, the pink slips began flying like a bloody blizzard. Corporate staffers in every department were falling like corn stalks in autumn. Fearing the workplace guillotine, Bob axed me instead.

What did I do?

The minute I walked out of Bob's little middle-manager office, I did not return to my own cubicle. Instead, I hopped on the elevator and went right to the top. There, in the dynamic domain of the top dogs, I requested a face-to-face with the chief executive officer. I offered to wait on the spot.

Maybe my behind-the-scenes speechwriting had served me well. Perhaps it was sheer lunacy, but it worked. Within minutes, I was seated across the desk from the big boss. I shared my case, and I asked for a letter of referral. Willingly, he agreed.

I employed the same plan with the head of human resources. Again, it worked!

I was loaded for bear.

Armed with these two mighty missives, I began my attack. My marketing was underway. Daily, I sent mailings to at least a dozen companies. Under each cover letter, I enclosed a resume, reference list and copies of my two big-gun letters.

Tracking my mailings, I started making follow-up calls to the top prospects. Within a week, I was heading for interviews.

Within a month, I reported to a new job at a stronger company. My paycheck had nearly doubled. I had my own private office and my own administrative assistant. And, for the first week, I was still receiving my vacation pay credit from my previous employer.

Several months later, while attending an advertising association conference, I discovered that my mediocre, insecure old boss had been removed and had taken a lower position at a smaller company. His department had been consolidated into another one. The very capable administrative assistant we had shared had been promoted to a salaried staff position.

Getting out from under his hierarchy certainly jump-started my early career. How can I ever thank him enough for kicking me out?

Learn more about this author, Linda Ann Nickerson.
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