Why have Electrix lost a lot of valuable staff in the last year? Because they treat the worker like dogs shit and look after the managers, who take things for granted. It’s the worker who makes the profits, not the manager. He just takes the glory. The worker is on the frontline. The manager sits in the trenches cowering, hoping to get tickets to the next rock concert, football or cricket match.
– The Pole
Graeme had been in Warwick about six months before Adam G and I went down for an overnighter, beer, pool and barbeque. It was a good night. The house was huge, two Queenslander’s put together, four or five bedrooms, an expansive kitchen and two bathrooms. Plonked onto a acre, it was the kind of house I’d love to live in.
Sheep grazed the surrounding paddocks. The neighbours were close enough to be seen but hardly heard. The Pole had set the house up, the pool table in the biggest room, a vegetable garden out the back, a bed in each bedroom. He was paying $260 a week in rent and mused about buying it.
Despite the relocation and his accommodation, work remained the same. ‘They don’t know how to run a branch,’ he said. ‘I do most of the work.’
I’d heard the Pole utter those sentences many times over the years so I paid it no mind. During his Warwick stint, he barely talked about work, it’s just the same as always, they’re dickheads or I could do better. He gave no indication in any of his texts, calls or emails of any trouble in the branch.
The Pole had been in Warwick ten months before the calamity.
On Wednesday 2 March, he woke with stomach pain. Diarrhoea confirmed the pain and lasted into Thursday. Perhaps it was gastro, he thought. Friday morning, the Pole woke in agony, waves of pain from his belly button to the right side of his abdomen. His belly swollen, filled with heat, too sick to move, he called work from bed and said he wouldn’t be in. Getting up for more diarrhoea, he was quickly back in bed.
‘I was going to sleep it off,’ he said.
Hours later, with Warwick in darkness, his mother arrived for a scheduled visit and found him in bed, pale, hot and sweating. She took him to Warwick hospital on Locke Street. The Pole was examined, given pain relief and put into an ambulance, transferred to Toowoomba hospital for emergency surgery.
The Pole had appendicitis.
A small organ, the appendix is found low in the gut, attached to the large intestine, an area vulnerable to infection. Scientists argue about its functionality, some considering it useless, others suggesting it helps fight infection. A common theory is it once helped the early humans digest leaves and bark. Despite the theories, people without an appendix don’t experience any associated health problems. Simply, it is an unnecessary organ.
Appendicitis occurs when the appendix is blocked, either by feces, mucous or a foreign object. Bacteria in the organ multiply and the appendix swells. If the appendix isn’t cut out, it can rupture, spreading the infection throughout the gut, known as peritonitis, which can kill people.
Common among females aged 15 to 19, appendicitis is common to all – one out of 15 people will get it. It causes more emergency abdominal surgeries than any other disease.
The Pole had surgery on Saturday morning. By midday on Sunday he was home in Warwick. He sent me a text, I’m sicker than you are. My reply was short, damn right, perhaps he had a cold. He sent another, I had emergency surgery last night. I didn’t think before responding, it obviously wasn’t brain surgery.
Get fucked I could’ve died, he texted. I called him. The Pole sounded in pain, the voice like he’d been punched in the throat as he told me what happened. He had three holes in his belly, a week off work then a month on light duties.
‘Why didn’t you call an ambulance,’ I said.
‘Because I was sick.’
‘You could’ve died and you thought you sleep it off?’
‘Just thought it would go away.’
His week at home was difficult, pain lying still was worse when he coughed or moved. Getting up hurt. He didn’t do much. No one from Electrix called to ask how he was. The next week, he couldn’t do much at work either. On light duties, The Pole wasn’t supposed to lift anything more than five kilograms. In electrical wholesaling, that’s a crippled employee. He could answer the phone, punch orders and other computerised tasks, but if he expected sympathy from his colleagues, he wasn’t surprised there wasn’t any.
Every time he stood from the chair to serve a customer or accept a delivery was a new adventure in pain. Wednesday afternoon, a customer came in. The Pole served him. The customer, Phil Jennings, left unsatisfied.
When Graeme turned up on Thursday he had a problem. The manager, Warren, was agitated, ignoring the Pole’s greeting and asking what happened with Phil.
‘What do you mean,’ the Pole said.
After leaving the branch on Wednesday afternoon, Phil called Warren. Apparently he was angry, threatening to take his account to Resource. With Warren demanding answers, the Pole explained what happened.
At the counter on Wednesday, the Pole was alone in the branch. Phil came in wanting a carton of down-lights, listening as the Pole said he was on light duties from surgery and couldn’t lift them.
‘They’re over there,’ the Pole said. ‘You’ll have to get them yourself.’
Phil didn’t like the Pole’s attitude, surgery or not. He walked out without the down-lights, suggesting he’d get them from Resource.
On Thursday morning, after listening to the Pole, Warren chastised him for turning up at 8.01am instead of 8.00am. The Pole was stunned. He never left the branch during the day, eating lunch at his desk, working on average an extra five hours per week. The conversation would get worse. The other employee, Jim Wilson had told Warren the Pole hadn’t done anything all week.
Warren, who’d been on holidays, was fuming. Electrix had been opened just ten months. A fledgling branch, they couldn’t afford to lose customers. When I worked in wholesaling, managers, including me, instructed the staff not to be beaten on price on common items. Not arguing with customers, while unavoidable, was fundamental. No doubt Warren was under pressure to grow the business, but wholesaling is difficult enough without branch harmony. A good manager will back his staff unless there are serious problems. An argument with a customer is a serious problem.
‘That’s not true,’ the Pole said about his perceived lack of effort. ‘I’ve done all the admin duties, counter sales, answering phones and locating products in the store. Look up the reports if you don’t believe me.’
Warren didn’t want to believe him. He knew what the Pole did in the branch, most of the store, deliveries in and out, along with expected daily duties. They kept arguing about Phil.
‘It’s not my fault,’ the Pole said. ‘I had to have emergency surgery. What would he like me to do about it?’
‘Why don’t you just fuck off,’ Warren yelled. ‘Go home, you’re better off not being here.’
Calmly, the Pole suggested he would do just that.
‘Go on then, fuck off, I don’t want you here.’
So the Pole went home. He didn’t go in on Friday. He called me on Saturday. ‘This is not the first time I have been harassed and bullied by this manager,’ he said. ‘He’s ten years younger than me. The other guy, Jim is 17 years younger. Customers have told me they’ve backstabbed me.’
It sounded bad. The Pole was incapacitated and they’d pounced at him. Angry, he downloaded the secrets. Warren, he said, had a program installed on his computer so he could access websites Electrix had banned. According to the Pole, Warren was on Facebook, dating sites and music sites, all undetectable and against company policy. He’d gone on holidays without submitting a form, vacant from the branch but with his accrued leave intact.
Warren and Jim were both fond of leaving the branch during work hours to attend to personal things, regularly leaving the Pole on his own.
Having worked alongside the Pole for years, and having heard one side of the story, I asked what his attitude was really like, if he was aware he’d upset people. The answer, no, was predictable.
When we worked at Electrix, the branch was big, seven or eight staff. As mentioned previously, everyone picks their mark, customers they like more than others. The Pole was no different. In a large branch, the staff can protect their colleagues, shepherding them almost, away from arguments or situations that might get out of control.
In a three man branch, there’s nowhere to hide and no one offering a shepherd. The Pole wouldn’t agree he might’ve contributed to the argument with Phil, that his tone of voice wasn’t enough to upset him. He refused to admit he had caused a problem with the staff.
‘I have never been treated so badly in a workplace in 25 years,’ he said. ‘Now I feel I have to give up my employment with Electrix after 11 years and 1 month of loyal service, as well as giving up my lifestyle.’
That lifestyle including a huge house in a semi-rural location, existence in a small town he wanted to be in. Towns like Warwick routinely struggle to attract workers. The Pole had done Electrix a favour, moving in good faith, at his own expense. He had saved the company thousands in training fees. Warren and Jim had been with the company eight months, poached from a rival wholesaler in Warwick. They were mates before defecting to Electrix.
‘I’m sick of being told, on a daily basis, how to do my job,’ the Pole said. ‘I’ve been harassed, getting into trouble for things I haven’t done, things they’d done themselves.’
The Pole knew the computer system better than I ever did, probably better than most who worked for Electrix. When Warren and Jim picked him up on something, he checked the reports. If he was right, he let them know. In doing so, he exposed the lies, proved he was more knowledgeable than they were. It got to a stage where they couldn’t bluff him anymore.
It got to a stage where Warren was looking for an excuse.
On Monday, 28 March, Warren called him into the office for a recap of the argument about Phil. The Pole explained it again without patience. He wanted out, too. Voices were raised as Warren mentioned performance issues over the past few weeks, small incidents that now seemed magnified beyond reasonable doubt. He pushed a piece of paper across the desk, a written warning. ‘Read it and sign it,’ he said.
The Pole refused. ‘Write refused to sign on it,’ he said.
Warren got nasty. The Pole had accrued $5000 in profit share but that was gone, he wasn’t getting it. It was Stafford all over again. The Pole seethed.
‘Think about what you want to do,’ Warren said. ‘Because you don’t fit in here.’
The Pole went home to consider his future. During a call, I told him not to quit. I suggested calling Workplace Relations and claiming persecution because of his incapacitated state. ‘They had no issues with you until you had surgery,’ I said. ‘Now they’re telling you to quit, but they won’t sack you because of unfair dismissal laws. So don’t quit. Let them sack you then sue them.’
‘Na,’ he said. ‘They never made me feel welcome from start. I love where I live, hate where I work.’
The following day he gave two weeks notice, telling Warren he wanted his accrued leave, six weeks paid out and all his long service. Warren assured him all would be done.
I will never say a good word about Electrix in my life, the Pole texted later. They treat their workers like pieces of shit.
The Pole moved back to Brisbane over a week. Packing was difficult due to his recovery from surgery. Leaving the house he loved was just as bad. He stored stuff in my garage. As we unloaded the ute on a Monday night he told me an unfair dismissal claim didn’t interest him.
‘You have grounds,’ I said.
‘I can’t be bothered. I won’t be out of a job long.’
He’d been interviewed by an employment agency for a job before he left Warwick. He didn’t get it. The rejection surprised me. Wholesalers always seem to be on the lookout for viable employees. A man with eleven years experience is usually sought after. Beneath my house, I chatted to him about work.
‘You’ve got to realise you can’t treat all customers the same,’ I said. ‘Some like people being blunt, others don’t. Phil must’ve been annoyed at the way you spoke to him.’
‘I wasn’t rude,’ the Pole said. ‘He just didn’t want to get them himself.’
‘Pole, I’ve seen the way you deal with customers.’
‘I was fine with him,’ he said.
‘What about the staff?’
‘I did nothing to piss them off, just did my job,’ he said. ‘When Warren wanted me to sign the warning he said I never stayed back beyond closing, that he and Jim were often there until eight to get everything done. I told him if you’re staying back until eight you’re not managing the branch right.’
Personality clash, perhaps???
‘When you have an interview, be the best you can,’ I said. ‘Smile, say what you can do, not what you want. And tell them your customer service is exceptional.’
‘It is,’ he said.
Sighing, I shook my head.
Before he left, he stopped on the driveway. ‘My stars today said I’d take advice from someone younger. You might be it.’
The next day, Tuesday, the Pole was interviewed for an assistant manager position at a wholesaler in Brendale, on Brisbane’s north side. He was offered the job a few hours later. The deal was good, more responsibility and a pay rise, $10,000 beyond what Electrix was paying him.
He’d been unemployed for one day.
Days later he found a renovated house to rent in Zillmere.
A few months into his stint as assistant manager, the branch has experienced huge growth, record sales for consecutive months. The Pole, who had to buy slacks and shiny shoes for his new role, management don’t wear jeans, is stealing customers from Electrix, building on relationships he forged years ago, not a bad indication of a man who knows how to handle customers.
If I’ve been critical of the Pole, it’s because he always had more product knowledge, knew more about the computer system than I did, and he didn’t seem to utilise those advantages. He gave it up at the counter, but in the three years we worked together, his customer service improved, as did his patience. I’m not claiming any influence in that. He did it himself.
Years ago, a bloke I worked with was promoted to manager. ‘I guess I’ve got to become even more of an asshole,’ he said. He was wrong. He was already a complete asshole.
That’s the mentality of some people in wholesaling. It’s what people like me, Stevo and the Pole routinely dealt with.
The Pole’s revenge didn’t play out as I wanted it to. I wanted Electrix nailed, an unfair dismissal claim because of what they’d done to my mate. The Pole wanted it otherwise and he got it, a new job earning more money than Warren and Jim, new shiny shoes and a penchant for stealing dissatisfied customers from Electrix.
Interestingly, the $10,000 pay rise he received for his new job matches the $10,000 he lost in two bouts of profit share.
He could care less about that, now.
Revenge isn’t always dramatic. It doesn’t have to be. Revenge isn’t always satisfying either, but the Pole can look at his shiny shoes, the crisp slacks and the monthly pay cheque with smug satisfaction.
Every customer he nabs from Electrix is sweet revenge, the best kind…
FOOTSCRAY
HAWTHORN
ESSENDON
RICHMOND
GEELONG
MELBOURNE
CARLTON
WESTCOAST
