Please pack your things and go, auf wiedersehen

Photo: OWS by brittanyalice

I moved to New York in July of 2011. What led me here is another story, but I came here with some life experience and a feeling that I knew what I wanted, and I was going to get it here. I had my reservations about having a job that would “define me,” but I was willing to give that kind of job a shot. So I threw myself head-first into the job hunt, and was surprised and honored to be interviewed by a successful start-up based in the hip neighborhood of DUMBO.

Skip to the interesting part-- I got the job. I started on a trial basis, as all employees did, since the company wanted desperately to “conserve the culture they had built.” Pause to note that this “culture” was conveyed as completely gen-y, like totally edgy millennial jeans and tshirt type culture. Everyone was under 30 and highly intelligent. The first week of my employment the entire staff went on an outing on a yacht on the Hudson, complete with an open bar and sit-down dinner. I had clearly hit the big-time. But it was on this outing that I observed the first of many red flags-- everyone and I mean every single employee-- was white.

After that, the next red flags seemed to present themselves with more and more frequency. Everyone listened to country music. And not even good, classic Johnny Cash country, but that contemporary twangy processed country music that flaunted its ignorance and was borderline racist. Next, I began staying later and later at the office. The job required travel, much of which took up my entire weekend complete with shared hotel rooms in Bumblefuck, USA, 5 am wakeup calls, processed fast-food meals and very little laughter to lighten the mood. When I look back on my time there, I realized that I was utterly sleep-deprived and malnourished. I can only rationalize my staying there by the mere fact that I must have been hallucinating. That is the only way to logically explain the following situation.

As previously stated, the founders of the company were quite protective of their “company culture.” Up until this point, I still wasn't sure exactly what the core values of that culture were, other than making a lot of money and going out on yachts. So one afternoon, one of the co-founders took me out to a completely routine lunch, as they did with all new employees. Given that he was a former lawyer, and that I had many lawyer friends myself, I wasn't surprised by his devils-advocate style of lunchtime banter, but this conversation went way beyond that.

Our dialogue started off pretty normal-- discussing my background, our cultural differences (he was English), my affinity for English culture-- normal lunch conversation subjects. Then things took a weird turn. He began prying about my opinions of the upcoming American Presidential election. Full disclosure- I'm a bleeding heart liberal and not ashamed. However, being raised in the South by fairly conservative parents, I am sensitive to differing views, and believe everyone has the right to their own opinion. Therefore, I am used to keeping my opinions and statements fairly neutral. Plus, politics is not the most appropriate subject for lunch with your employer, amiright?

Nonetheless, the conversation continued, as he continued to egg me on. I tried my best to remain calm when he asked me how I would feel if the company donated 30% of their revenue to the Tea Party, but I was beginning to reach a breaking point. Rather than blow up, I asked with a slight hint of laughter in my voice, “Well, then what are your thoughts of Obama?” to which he replied, “He's a terrorist. Hussein? Comeon!”

So at that point I freaked out and left, right? Well, no. Shamefully, I did not. See above, re: hallucination. PLUS, at this point I naively gave him the benefit of the lawyer doubt and thought he was testing me! Doing the devils advocate thing?! Until the last minute, I was patiently waiting for the, “Bah-dum-dum-chhhh- GOTCHA!!!”

But it never came.

Finally, around 9 pm that Thursday night, I was finishing some work and dreaming of crashing into my bed. As I stood next to the printer, I overheard my manager conversing with another employee about some man. “Is he cute?” asked the employee. To which my manager replied, “He’s black!!” As in, he is black, and therefore CANNOT be cute. Stunned, I dropped my freshly printed paper and exclaimed, “WHAT?!” She was not kidding. And I think I sealed my fate.

My manager asked me to come in early the next morning for a meeting we had. This meeting, which took place in a dark storage room, was in fact no meeting at all, but rather a sort of, “Please pack your things and go, auf wiedersehen.”

I was told that I was not a good fit for their culture. I kept my composure and politely asked if they were unsatisfied with my work, but the insisted that they did not think I was a good fit for this position. And in the tearful conversation with my mom following my departure, the veil was slowly lifted from my eyes, and I realized what had happened. As I recounted the events that had unfolded in the days prior to my dismissal, I began seeing clearly that I was in fact, not at all a good fit. I didn’t believe in stepping on others to succeed and stealing ideas (as I had realized through internal documents was common practice at this company), I didn’t think people of other races were inherently not cute, and I wasn’t going to support an extreme political party. So no, I was not a good fit.