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That day, I drove to the office, sat in my car in the parking lot and cried for a while. I had only been here for a year and suddenly we were, for all intents and purposes, unemployed and financially ruined. I felt alone. My family and friends seemed further away than they ever had before. Life fell apart and we have never fully recovered from it.
Instead of working yet one more day for free, I went to the corporate office (I had enough gas to get from Downtown KC to the Plaza) where the “CEO” was. The temp/receptionist wouldn’t let me past the lobby and the “CEO” wasn’t about to come out there and talk to me, knowing he owed me money. So I told her I would be squatting until someone gave me enough money to leave. And squat I did.
My mobile phone bill was paid up for at least another month (unfortunately for the “CEO”) so I called a local reporter and advised I had a decent business news lead. The reporter told me to stay put and someone would meet me there to talk about a possible story.
While I was squatting, I made small talk with the receptionist, that’s how I found out she was a temp from an agency. I told her that was good because if she’s on the “CEO’s” payroll, she’s giving away her time. She understood my situation but she had to follow orders so he wouldn’t tell the agency bad things about her. Fair enough.
Hours passed and there wasn't jack shit to do but look out the window, sneak as far down the hall as I could when the receptionist wasn't looking and noticing what a fucking mess had been made of what used to be a nice office. The majority of it was a construction site where everyone went home one night and never came back. There were parts of cubes, desks, a random dust-covered chair under light fixtures that were about 50% installed and dangling from the ceiling with wires sticking out.
Hours passed and there wasn't jack shit to do but look out the window, sneak as far down the hall as I could when the receptionist wasn't looking and noticing what a fucking mess had been made of what used to be a nice office. The majority of it was a construction site where everyone went home one night and never came back. There were parts of cubes, desks, a random dust-covered chair under light fixtures that were about 50% installed and dangling from the ceiling with wires sticking out.
Mr. Buffie was back at the studio finishing up a refresh on his resume and demo reel and told me he would meet me there as soon as he was done.
Finally, the “CEO” had enough of me in his unpaid-for lobby. At times, I admit, there was a touch of acting out, knocking on the wall, letting him know I was still there and still had bounced paychecks with his signature on them and how I parked next to his Mercedes SUV and could he give me a ride because I had no way to get home other than my own two feet. I might have made a comment about putting a bit in his mouth and riding him horseback down I-70, but I don’t recall…
His ‘assistant’ R.J. shows up. And I know this can’t be good. Several other people tangled with R.J. before and something about R.J.’s 6’4” frame and 350 lbs of muscle made them back down in a hurry. But I wasn’t that girl. I was broke, desperate, a little stupid maybe. I was nose to chest with a wall of big, angry felon (assault conviction, did time in Leavenworth) who was about to literally pick me up and throw my ass out into the middle of 47th Street.
I can’t adequately describe how perfect the timing was but just as R.J. and I began to physically altercate, Mr. Buffie came through the door and between the two of us, R.J. was removed from my three feet of personal space.
Finally, the “CEO” had enough of me in his unpaid-for lobby. At times, I admit, there was a touch of acting out, knocking on the wall, letting him know I was still there and still had bounced paychecks with his signature on them and how I parked next to his Mercedes SUV and could he give me a ride because I had no way to get home other than my own two feet. I might have made a comment about putting a bit in his mouth and riding him horseback down I-70, but I don’t recall…
His ‘assistant’ R.J. shows up. And I know this can’t be good. Several other people tangled with R.J. before and something about R.J.’s 6’4” frame and 350 lbs of muscle made them back down in a hurry. But I wasn’t that girl. I was broke, desperate, a little stupid maybe. I was nose to chest with a wall of big, angry felon (assault conviction, did time in Leavenworth) who was about to literally pick me up and throw my ass out into the middle of 47th Street.
I can’t adequately describe how perfect the timing was but just as R.J. and I began to physically altercate, Mr. Buffie came through the door and between the two of us, R.J. was removed from my three feet of personal space.
The story made the news and the "CEO" was exposed. The company was officially dark the next day, partly because the sheriff came in and seized our equipment. Too many creditors had filed court documents demanding it because, well, con men aren’t exactly known for paying their bills.
With help from the Jackson County prosecutor’s bad checks division, I recovered all but about $1,000 of what was owed to me and it took them almost a year to get as much as they did but I’m so thankful for them. Other employees didn’t fare so well. Not my fault they don't know how to deal with a bad check. Or so you'd think. But you'd be wrong.
In fact, I find out last week, nearly 10 years later, that several of those employees BLAME ME for the company closing.
Just like me, these people also had SIX WEEKS worth of bounced paychecks yet the company closing was my fault because I went to the “CEO’s” office and when he wouldn't pay me enough to even drive home, I called the local media. That’s what closed a 25-year-old business… an office assistant/stylist demanding a month and a half of salary owed to her. I sank the ship.
With help from the Jackson County prosecutor’s bad checks division, I recovered all but about $1,000 of what was owed to me and it took them almost a year to get as much as they did but I’m so thankful for them. Other employees didn’t fare so well. Not my fault they don't know how to deal with a bad check. Or so you'd think. But you'd be wrong.
In fact, I find out last week, nearly 10 years later, that several of those employees BLAME ME for the company closing.
Just like me, these people also had SIX WEEKS worth of bounced paychecks yet the company closing was my fault because I went to the “CEO’s” office and when he wouldn't pay me enough to even drive home, I called the local media. That’s what closed a 25-year-old business… an office assistant/stylist demanding a month and a half of salary owed to her. I sank the ship.
In the extremely rare event that any of you come across this blog and you recognize yourself, eat a sack full of dicks.
You had plenty of time to prepare or are you so delusional that you thought if you just kept showing up, the creditors would go away and money would magically appear in your bank account? Don’t be mad that I decided to take action. Or are you jealous that you weren’t brave enough to do it yourself? You’re the kind of chickenshit who peels off a band aid, one painful hair at a time. Fuck that shit. Rip it off and get it over with.
Anyway, former shipmates, you can blame me for the big hole in the boat if it makes you feel better. It doesn’t affect me one way or the other. But you should know, it’s been almost a decade now. Isn’t it time you started getting over it?
(And one more little note, be careful who you shoot your mouth off to. You may hate me, but not everyone does and word travels fast.)
You had plenty of time to prepare or are you so delusional that you thought if you just kept showing up, the creditors would go away and money would magically appear in your bank account? Don’t be mad that I decided to take action. Or are you jealous that you weren’t brave enough to do it yourself? You’re the kind of chickenshit who peels off a band aid, one painful hair at a time. Fuck that shit. Rip it off and get it over with.
Anyway, former shipmates, you can blame me for the big hole in the boat if it makes you feel better. It doesn’t affect me one way or the other. But you should know, it’s been almost a decade now. Isn’t it time you started getting over it?
(And one more little note, be careful who you shoot your mouth off to. You may hate me, but not everyone does and word travels fast.)
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