As has been the case in years past, you can read my tale below. This year, however, you also get my holiday present of a download in booklet form, should you so choose.
To all of my readers, connections, and followers, new and legacy, thank you all for reading, commenting, and sharing throughout the year. Please have a happy and, most importantly, healthy and safe holiday season. I'll see everyone on January 3, 2022, with fresh content to kick off the new year.
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the office
Not a creature was stirring … well, just one of the bosses;
The bonuses were paid by the company with care,
In hopes that no ungrateful employees would swear.
The workers were home all snug on their thrones;
While visions of deadlines danced on their iPhones;
And I at my desk, alone to deal with the crap,
For the one who's in charge gets no holiday nap.
When out in the lot there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter;
Away to the door I flew in a hurried jolt,
Tore open the shutters and threw open the bolt.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave a lustre of midday to objects below,
When what to my wondering eyes did acquaint,
A process server holding a seven-count complaint.
Count One alleged that we had discriminated,
On the basis of race by one irritated;
A denied promotion, gone to someone who's white,
Said the lawsuit I read in the glow of the night.
Count Two, racial harassment, words she had o'erheard,
Does she know the ruckus she's about to have stirred?
Oh, how she had pulled that nasty, evil trigger.
Our supervisors would never rhyme anything with bigger.
Count Three, it's not just racism she alleged,
Also sexism, to which management pledged.
The boys, she said, we paid so much more than the girls
Yet they do the same work as each workday unfurls.
Count Four, uh oh, sexual harassment;
It's true her manager hoped to be her gent.
But the touching and groping, alleged quid pro quo,
Never did anyone coerce being her beau.
Count Five, accommodation she says we've denied.
An employee who exhausted FMLA we'd fired.
Count Six, wage and hour class action, oh crap!
Did we fall into an FLSA lawsuit trap?
Mis-classifications, non-exempt for exempt,
And off-the-clock work too, my butt cheeks were then clenched.
Not just a lawsuit was waiting, I see.
I spoke not a single word, went back to my desk,
And yelled, with none to hear, "Do I ever get to rest?!"
I emailed our lawyer, thru my phone I exclaimed,
"How much trouble are we in? To me please explain!"
He sprang to his phone, gave to me this rejoinder.
"A lot; I'll need a $50,000 retainer."
But I also heard him proclaim, so as not to slight—
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"
Not a creature was stirring … well, just one of the bosses;
The bonuses were paid by the company with care,
In hopes that no ungrateful employees would swear.
The workers were home all snug on their thrones;
While visions of deadlines danced on their iPhones;
And I at my desk, alone to deal with the crap,
For the one who's in charge gets no holiday nap.
When out in the lot there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter;
Away to the door I flew in a hurried jolt,
Tore open the shutters and threw open the bolt.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave a lustre of midday to objects below,
When what to my wondering eyes did acquaint,
A process server holding a seven-count complaint.
Count One alleged that we had discriminated,
On the basis of race by one irritated;
A denied promotion, gone to someone who's white,
Said the lawsuit I read in the glow of the night.
Count Two, racial harassment, words she had o'erheard,
Does she know the ruckus she's about to have stirred?
Oh, how she had pulled that nasty, evil trigger.
Our supervisors would never rhyme anything with bigger.
Count Three, it's not just racism she alleged,
Also sexism, to which management pledged.
The boys, she said, we paid so much more than the girls
Yet they do the same work as each workday unfurls.
Count Four, uh oh, sexual harassment;
It's true her manager hoped to be her gent.
But the touching and groping, alleged quid pro quo,
Never did anyone coerce being her beau.
Count Five, accommodation she says we've denied.
An employee who exhausted FMLA we'd fired.
More time off to heal should we have granted?
The interactive process our management recanted.
The interactive process our management recanted.
Count Six, wage and hour class action, oh crap!
Did we fall into an FLSA lawsuit trap?
Mis-classifications, non-exempt for exempt,
And off-the-clock work too, my butt cheeks were then clenched.
Not just a lawsuit was waiting, I see.
An election petition from the NLRB.
Ungrateful employees want more pay and respect.
Should I have treated them better, I reflect?
What matters now is that union I must bust.
I'll turn their dreams of collective bargaining to dust.
How should I go about mitigating these conflicts?
I'll call my old pal Howard Schultz for some anti-union t.i.p.s.
I spoke not a single word, went back to my desk,
And yelled, with none to hear, "Do I ever get to rest?!"
I emailed our lawyer, thru my phone I exclaimed,
"How much trouble are we in? To me please explain!"
He sprang to his phone, gave to me this rejoinder.
"A lot; I'll need a $50,000 retainer."
But I also heard him proclaim, so as not to slight—
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"
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