I'm afraid that I'm no longer Santa's Bitch.
Which, depending on how you look at it, is either a wonderful relief, or a terrible case of "bah humbug" due to the management.
Miraculously enough, I wasn't fired for my super awesome calendar selling techniques, but because of personal family crisis. My grandfather was recently diagnosed with cancer, so the entire clan would be traveling to his respective location.
I, as the awesome little wench that I am, informed management of this as soon as I found out his diagnosis. The cowardly manager suddenly turned into a ferocious mean monster and starting ranting about how the only possible way on God's green earth that I could manage to get the week of Christmas off was to quit, or be fired.
I told her that I would try and wait it out, and if need be, I would only take Christmas eve and the day after Christmas for traveling purposes. She seemed fine with that.
Until last Friday. When I went in for my schedule.
I knock on her door and ask her what's up. Her response, "Oh, yeah. I decided that since your grandfather was obviously more important that I didn't bother putting you on the schedule. Don't worry about ever coming in. You'll get your last check after the holidays."
I'm fired because I bent over backwards trying to be a professional and work up until the critical hour?
Because my grandfather, who is fuckin' 89 years old, might not make it for next year's Christmas? Seriously?
It's not like I requested every day off, or only opening shifts--in fact, up until today (my last day), I think that I've been fairly good. I've always come in early, and stayed late depending on what she needed. I trained on every store/kiosk/cart that she owned so that in the event of someone not showing up, I could come in until that next shift started. And I get the axe because my grandfather developed cancer, which is at no fault of my own?