A few years ago, I received a phone call from a Human Resources person from a staffing agency I almost worked for at one point. I got through the greetings and small talk and got down to business.

HR: “I have a person you know applying for a job with one of our customers.”

Me: “I’m confused; no one gave me a heads up. Who are we talking about?”

HR: “Your friend, [Person’s First Name].”

Me: “Who?”

HR: “[Person’s Full Name] — he said he worked with you at [Email Company].”

Me: “Ohhh, okay. I remember him. But I’m not sure why he’d put my name down. We didn’t work all that closely. I interacted with his team only peripherally because we had equipment in his office. I don’t really feel comfortable providing a reference.”

HR: “That’s sort of our fault; we sort of pressured him to cough up references on the fly.”

Me: “I don’t feel comfortable providing a reference.”

HR: “Come on, [My Name]. We know each other. Help me out.”

Me: “Well, not being his manager, I can’t discuss his performance.”

HR: “Okay. Can I ask you about his technical skills? Can you comment on those?”

Me: “Fine, ask away.”

HR: “How is [Person] with [Software Package]?”

Me: “Okay, I guess. Maybe 2.5 out of five.”

A five out of five is extremely rare for this software. I might be at 4.7, and I’ve used the software for over twenty years, and I’ve even flown to the vendor’s headquarters to work on technology issues and help design future versions of products with them.

HR: “Great! How is he with [Hardware Platform]?”

Me: “Well, in the time he was at [Email Company], he never touched the platform. If he gained knowledge from elsewhere, I can’t comment.”

HR: “Wait, that can’t be right. He said he led the [Hardware Platform] refresh project.”

Me: “That’s not true.”

HR: “[Email Company] is huge. Is it possible you weren’t aware of the project?”

Me: “No. I’m very aware of the project, and he wasn’t leading it.”

HR: “How can you be so sure?”

Me: “Because I led that project.”

HR: *Very uncomfortably* “Oh.”

Me: “I think it’s best for everyone that we end the call here. I think you have a phone call to make.”

HR: “Yeah, that’s probably best.”

I didn’t necessarily bash him but just set the record straight.

I work in a somewhat specialized role, which has led me to be in the position of working regular hours at an office, but I’m actually employed by a third-party staffing agency specializing in my role. The role I’m in is experiencing a shortage of qualified people, so it’s easier for offices to use third-party staffing agencies than to hire for themselves.

This arrangement has been largely positive. I get along with all of my “coworkers” and “managers” at the office, and I am treated like an employee when it comes to events such as staff lunches or Christmas gift exchanges. However, there are some key differences between me and the office’s regular employees, which will become apparent later in the story.

I have been working at the office for about three years when the manager who is generally considered to be my direct supervisor decides to retire. A new manager is hired, and fairly soon after, he starts implementing changes. Because I work through the staffing agency, I don’t immediately notice any of these changes, but I hear my “coworkers” complaining about them often enough to know the basics.

But one day, there’s a new bank of lockers in the break room, which is tough to ignore. Apparently, employees were assigned lockers, and they are now required to keep their phones and other personal belongings in their lockers while on the clock. I was never assigned a locker because I don’t work for the office, and even if I was given a locker, I use certain apps through the staffing agency as part of my job, so I can’t give up my phone.

About a week after the lockers are installed, the manager sees me on my phone.

Manager: “[My Name], why are you using your phone?”

Me: “I’m looking at [information for my job].”

Manager: “All personal items, including cell phones, are supposed to be in your locker.”

Me: “I don’t have a locker. As far as I understand, they were assigned based on your payroll information, and I don’t get paid by [office] because I work for [Staffing Agency].”

The manager hesitates for a bit before responding.

Manager: “Well… you should keep your phone in your car, then.”

Me: “I can’t. I need [apps] for work because that’s what [Staffing Agency] uses. Without access to those apps, I literally can’t do my job.”

Manager: “It’s not fair to the other employees who have to put their phones away if they see you on your phone all day.”

Me: “Then maybe you should rethink your plan to take their phones away?”

The manager grumbles to himself for a bit before walking away. I later hear that he went to the office’s Human Resources staff to try to complain about me, but because I don’t work for the office, HR obviously couldn’t do anything about it.

A few weeks later, there’s another incident. I’ve decided to take a short vacation and have filed it with the staffing agency accordingly. The next day, I tell the manager at the office about it so he’s aware.

Me: “Hey, [Manager], just so you’re aware, I’m going on vacation between [date #1] and [date #2]. If you need someone to cover for me, [Staffing Agency] can probably get someone reassigned from another office, but I’m not working on anything super critical, so I think you’ll be okay.”

Manager: “I don’t think we can do that. [Employee #1] and [Employee #2] both requested that week off already, so we’ll need you here.”

Me: “[Employee #1] and [Employee #2] don’t have anything to do with my job, so their being gone at the same time isn’t relevant at all.”

Manager: “I meant we’ll need you to cover for them.”

Me: “I have absolutely no training to even think about covering their positions. And besides, I don’t work for you.”

Manager: “I’m going to deny your vacation because I need you here.”

Me: “You have literally zero control over my vacation time. I don’t work for you; I work for [Staffing Agency]. They’ve already approved it, so that’s all that matters.”

Manager: “You’re not very dedicated to this job, are you? First your phone, now this… Maybe we need to reconsider your employment here.”

Me: “You know what? Maybe we should. You need me in this position a lot more than I need you. I can talk to [Staffing Agency] about getting reassigned to a different office, and that’ll solve both of our problems.”

Manager: “Hold on. We need someone working on the projects you do for us.”

Me: “Right. And if you lose me, how long do you think it will be before [Staffing Agency] can find a permanent replacement for me if I tell them that I refuse to work here because of your attempts at mistreating me?”

Manager: “…”

Me: “Do you see what I mean now? I’m willing to cooperate and keep working here, but you have to realize that you literally have no power. You can either lose me for a week when I’m on vacation — which isn’t going to hurt you that much anyway because, like I said, there’s nothing super critical right now — or you can lose me forever, and who knows how long it’ll take before you get a replacement?”

Manager: “Fine. Enjoy your vacation.”

Ever since this second incident, the manager has generally backed off some of his controlling policies — not just against me but against his actual employees, too. For example, storing phones and personal belongings in the lockers is now “optional” rather than required, and employees are allowed to keep their phones on them as long as they don’t waste time playing games or surfing social media or anything while they’re on the clock.

Apparently, enough employees were inspired by me standing up to him that they decided to threaten to quit as well, and he realized that it’s better to treat employees like humans instead of cattle.

Some years ago, I was working in a minor management position in the Civil Service. I was about to go on maternity leave for six months. My assistant manager was covering part of my duties, and the company had brought in a temp to cover the rest. I was to spend a week training her before I took off.

My department had quite a relaxed atmosphere; I’m one of those bosses who are happy for people to chat and socialise a little as long as all the work is completed first. We were a small team and relatively close, and everyone went out of their way to make the temp feel welcome.

She had only been in the office for around four hours, training with me to use our computer system, when she complained that she had a headache and wanted to go out and buy some painkillers. I suggested that she take her lunch break, pick up the tablets she wanted, and get some fresh air away from the screen.

She went off… and never returned! The company contacted the temp agency later and was given the feedback that I seemed too happy and positive, and she didn’t want to work in a place like that. Personally, I wouldn’t want to work in a place that wasn’t like that…

This happened about ten years ago when I was working on the railways near London.

I worked for an agency that supplied staff to the railways on a temporary basis. They were very old-fashioned, and as part of our employment contract, they stated that our hand-completed timesheets had to be faxed by 7:00 pm on Thursday for us to be paid on Friday. Timesheets that were emailed, even before 7:00 pm, would result in wages not being paid until the following Friday.

Obviously, they chose the most inconvenient way — as it was 2014 and nobody had a fax machine — so they were able to legally retain our wages in their account for an extra week.

But my printer at home had a fax machine built in that I never used.

So, after my first week, I plugged my printer into the phone line, faxed my timesheet to the agency, and waited.

The next day, I still hadn’t been paid.

I phoned them and asked why I hadn’t been paid, but the response was explained in a dull voice by somebody who had obviously repeated the same sentence so many times that it had lost all meaning to her.

Employee: “As explained in your contract, only timesheets that have been faxed to us are paid the next day. If you’ve emailed it, your wages will be paid next week.”

Me: “But I did fax it!”

She gathered her thoughts for a moment before replying.

Employee: “Oh… err, okay? Which number did you fax it to?”

I gave her the number I had faxed it to, which was correct.

Employee: “Um… okay… I’ll just place you on hold.”

She came back on the phone a couple of minutes later.

Employee: “Okay, yes, we’ve got it. Sorry, I can’t remember the last time somebody actually faxed their timesheet to us! I’ll get that paid now.”

As you can imagine, I told my colleagues the following day, and from then on, they all gave their timesheets to me to fax when I got home so they got paid on time.

I wondered if they’d drop the silly fax-versus-email rule, but it continued, so every week, I’d fax in half a dozen timesheets to them.

Related:
Taxing Faxing, Part 40
Taxing Faxing, Part 39
Taxing Faxing, Part 38
Taxing Faxing, Part 37
Taxing Faxing, Part 36

I’ve been working as an independent in-home caregiver for about a decade. I’ve only worked with a few clients, all of whom I’ve gotten along great with.

Currently, I have only one client with whom I work part-time, so I decided to try and find some more work. I put in an application at a local in-home care agency that I’d heard good things from.

They were extremely excited to see my application. While I realize that my experience level and having had CNA training (though not a valid CNA license, a distinction that I made sure to emphasize) makes me a desirable employee in this field, I still tend to get a bad vibe any time someone’s really trying to get me to sign up with them.

They called me in for an interview and training session. This was from 10:00 am to 2:00 pm, and despite the fact that I was the only person scheduled for it, they weren’t willing to hold it at a different time. I was told lunch would be provided but I’d need to bring my own drinks.

So, I took a day off working with my client and went in.

“Training” was dull. Insufferably so. It consisted of watching some extremely generic videos about “what our company is” — which was largely a rambling story about how the founder needed someone to care for his elderly mother and couldn’t find anyone — followed by signing some paperwork. The “lunch” provided turned out to be an offering of cheap candy bars and snack cakes, stuff that, even if I wasn’t diabetic, would absolutely not have counted as a meal. This was my first red flag.

After finishing the training, the rest of the time that day was spent filling out paperwork and meeting the office people. Among other things, I was informed that the company did not do direct deposit of paychecks; they insisted that employees come into the office in person to pick them up. In 2023. Second red flag, especially given that the agency’s office is located a thirty-mile round trip from where I live.

I was also introduced to the woman who I was told would be my trainer. The very first thing out of her mouth was:

Trainer: “Won’t it feel good to not be working under the table for once?”

This was before she’d even introduced herself.

Me: “Hey. I’ve been doing this for almost a decade. As. A. Professional.”

She sort of apologized at this point, but the damage was done, and I was already suspecting that I did not actually want to work for this company. But I wanted to at least meet my client and give them a chance first.

Then, I was asked if I’d be bringing my current client into the agency. I told them that no, I was not planning to do that; the effect would be my client being charged an extra $10 an hour more than what the temp agency they used to pay me charged them, for no increase to my pay or the service they got. That was an obvious bad deal all around, since most of the agency’s clients used veteran benefits or insurance to pay for their services.

Well, finally, it was 2:00 pm and I was able to get out of there and actually get some food, while my blood sugar had gotten dangerously low.

They sent me a notice that a client had been located for me, I was to show up at an address at a specific date and time the next week, and my trainer would meet me there.

I showed up ten minutes early. I waited for the trainer. And waited. The scheduled start time hit, and she still wasn’t there. I called the agency. They said she was on her way. She arrived ten minutes late.

We went inside and met the family. They wanted someone to take care of their father, a disabled veteran, while they were out of the house. Mostly, they just needed someone to be there when they were out of the house because he liked to wait until everyone else was gone before trying to get up and walk around the house without his walker. He’d already broken a hip doing this.

Trainer: “Okay, you’ve got it from here.”

And she left.

The family showed me the house (which was so full of cats that I was afraid that I’d get ringworm from touching anything, along with multiple litter boxes that were badly in need of cleaning, but the agency’s rules said we did not do anything for the family that wasn’t directly related to the care of the client). Then, they left me alone with him.

My session consisted of two and a half hours of watching him watch TV — and noticing that there was a rifle sitting in the corner of the room, completely unsecured in any way. He didn’t look at me once.

As soon as I got home, I threw all my clothes in the wash and took a very thorough shower. I also let the agency know about the rifle, as it’s allegedly against their rules for clients to have unsecured firearms in the home while caregivers are working. I was told they’d make sure that it didn’t happen again.

The next day, I was informed that the client had decided that they didn’t actually want me; they wanted someone else. Frankly, I wasn’t upset about not going back.

They had a new client for me. They lived outside of the zone that I’d put down as where I was willing to work, and the agency tried to tell me that it was about the same distance as it was to my other client. This was a blatant lie; anyone with access to any sort of map or navigation software could instantly tell that it was more than twice that distance.

This client was in a trailer park, living in a trailer home. I noticed immediately upon entry that it stank of stale urine. The client, it was explained to me, was largely bedridden but could use the commode with assistance. He was a Navy veteran who’d traveled all over the US and then decided to settle down in the trailer park because he enjoyed it versus getting a house. Well, okay, but the trailer was absolutely not disability-accessible and really didn’t have proper room for someone to be working with him.

After basic small talk (at least he was willing to talk to me), he had to use the commode, so his wife and I got him out of bed and got the commode to him. He promptly urinated on the rug, explaining the trailer’s smell. At least his number two ended up in the commode.

His wife proceeded to wipe him. Without using gloves. And put the soiled wipes down on the counter behind her.

Then, the client had a low blood pressure incident. This was apparently extremely common for him; he’d become incoherent and then unresponsive and start to collapse. The way to deal with this was to call the fire department and have them send some people over. Apparently, this happened at least twice a week. Unfortunately, this required the client’s wife to call, but she didn’t have her cell phone, so she had to borrow mine. She hadn’t washed her hands.

After that point, the client was put to bed by the fire department, and I was left without anything further to do for the day, so I got sent home early. I carefully applied bleach to my phone.

I went back the next day and did more work for the client — thankfully, without any further medical emergencies, but by this time, I’d already decided that I’d had it with the agency.

While I was there, the client’s wife decided that she was going to run to the library, so I was left there with the client. We chatted for a bit about various topics. Then, he looked at me and said:

Client: “I’m sure glad you’re white.”

I immediately had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Client: “The last caregiver they sent out to me was a [word that starts with N].”

Yup, it was just as bad as I thought it would be.

He proceeded to tell me about how bad their last caregiver was, and also about how he’d once lived in Alabama, which was an absolutely horrible place to live because of all the N-words living there. Any residual doubts or guilt I’d had about my decision to quit evaporated.

By the time his wife got back, it was the end of my shift anyway, so I went over to the agency — the trailer park was located in the same city as the agency, even though I’d told them that I did not want to work there and they’d agreed to it when hiring me — and told them that I quit, effective immediately.

And then I went home and had a panic attack because, even though I was 100% committed to leaving, it was still really stressful.