It's a Dirty Job, But...

By Anne Stockdale

I am a person who likes to be liked. I admit it. I don't like conflict. I don't want to be the bearer of bad news. So you can imagine the emotional turmoil I felt when my boss told me that I would have to fire someone.

Let me give you a bit of history.

I was working as an executive assistant of sorts at the time. My boss was, as most bosses are, demanding and sometimes difficult to work with. She repeated requests, asked all sorts of questions (and expected me to have the answers), sometimes micromanaged me and, more often than not, loaded on the responsibilities. Despite what some might think, I really enjoyed working with her.

Well, we got to the point that we were so busy that we needed to hire someone to work with us. We hired a great person fresh out of university. She was friendly, easygoing, and a hard worker. I really liked her and so did my boss. But, gradually, I could see that she wasn't doing well. Although I worked well with her, she didn't work well with our boss. Our boss's style was just too much for her, and you could actually see her body tense up whenever our boss spoke to her. Gradually it got worse and, as a result, our boss – who couldn't help but notice – worked with her less and less.

Despite my attempts to help her sort it out – explaining to her how our boss worked, why our boss worked the way she did, what our boss meant (or didn't mean) when she said certain things – the boss and I eventually agreed that she wasn't going to work out. We would have to let her go. Unfortunately, since the boss was going on a business trip, and because she was big on teaching (did I mention that she liked to load on the responsibilities?), she decided that it would be a great experience for me to do the deed.

What?! But I like this person! She likes me! Now she's going to hate me! She will forever remember me as the *itch who fired her!

So the day arrived. I had to figure out where to do it. Everyone could see into my office, which had a glass wall and no door, so I couldn't do it there, because people would surely stare when she started crying. I decided that I would try to get her into our boss's office, which had nice, solid walls and a thick, heavy door (perfect for muffling the sound of crying). I thought, "Now, how do I get her in there?"

Since we both regularly had to access files in our boss's office, I decided to stay in there until she came in to find something. After waiting for what seemed like forever, I started to worry that maybe she would leave for the day. So, trying to sound as natural as possible, I called her name. As she came in, I blurted out that she should close the door (you know, to muffle the crying). Bad move. Jokingly, she asked me, "What, am I being fired?" Caught off guard, I blurted out, "Yes!" Her face, which had been smiling only moments before, just crumpled.

We were off to a rocky start, and I knew I had to do something quickly. I got her to sit down, and waited for her to take a deep breath. Then I took a deep breath. I knew I could just blame the boss for the decision. (Even though I knew I would probably never see her again, I still wanted her to like me.) But I didn't, because it wouldn't have been the truth. I wanted to be honest with her. I wanted her to learn something from this difficult experience (the boss had obviously rubbed off on me).

I emphasized her good points – she was smart, she had a great work ethic, and she was friendly and worked well with a lot of people. Then I explained clearly why she just wasn't a good fit for this particular position and why we had to let her go. Ultimately, it came down to the fact that she didn't work well with the boss, who was the one person with whom she needed to work well, and she couldn't seem to figure out how to make the relationship work. I also pointed out that although it didn't seem like it, this was a good thing, because she didn't seem to enjoy the job, so perhaps now she could find something she would enjoy ….

After it was over, I wished her good luck, and walked her to the door. She didn't leave with a smile on her face, but she wasn't crying either. And, even though I knew she probably didn't like me very much, neither was I.