Christmas Horror Stories

The best bonus I ever got was before I ever went to work in newspapers. Sadly, I was working for a retail chain store.

The company started an incentive program that our store employees really worked hard to maximize the bonus. It was based on average hours you worked whether you received a full share or a half share. Most part timers received a half share but I got a full share because I averaged about 34-35 hours a week. That bonus was around $850 and it came right after Christmas. It was the first year of the program and the higher-ups under-estimated our store sales and dedication of the employees to keep expenses and losses low. Our bonus check the next year was around $200 and it got smaller over the ensuing years as they doctored the books so we couldn't get a big check again.

Anyway, I've never had a bonus anything close to that in newspapers. In fact, the most I've gotten from a newspaper is $50.

 

I used to get $500 each Christmas at my former shop. From what I hear, they give out about 70 percent of what they used to give. It sucks its lower, but it's still more than most get. The thing I miss most is the covered dish luncheon they did. I was worthless afterward, but I made sure to get a full plate of leftovers before I headed out to basketball games.

 

One company I worked for gave each employee a Christmas bonus of one week's pay for every year we had worked there. It wasn't a newspaper, of course. It was a bank, a local bank that was eight or 10 years old, so those were great bonuses and was an effective way of keeping loyal and talented employees.

 

Let the record show that my son Josh, who is a marketing exec for Boston.com, had Chinese food and a bottle of Jim Beam sent to the people working the night shift tonight. I am very proud of him.

 

Man, did I ever get in the wrong business. I'd be good at my current shop for a bonus of 20 weeks pay at that rate. Wow.

 

I got the opposite of a horror story just yesterday. Nothing earthshaking, but a gesture I appreciated.

Little background first: It's been an interesting year with us going the RDC route, the changeover being postponed a couple of times as we sat on pins and needles about our jobs, one of my copy desk mates taking a monthlong medical leave just before the changeover, meaning six-day weeks for a month and a half for me and the other remaining desk editor; and then essentially getting a new position and learning the new job and new process with new co-workers on remote in Indiana. All this done with a managing editor who's a nice lady, but a little in over her head, with some decisions that leave me exasperated.

Yesterday, she walks by my desk and says "Can I see you in my office for a sec," and I follow her in dreading what this could be about, and when I close the door, she reaches behind her desk and pulls out a card attached to a bottle of wine from a local vineyard, telling me "I know it's been a challenging year for us all, but I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate you weathering the storm and doing a good job for us." I stammered out a thank you, and at least enjoyed a virtuall pat on the back. And, I will look forward to sharing the bottle with my dad tomorrow night.

 

I had a SE at my first stop who was pretty outraged that they didn't give employees anything for Christmas other than the party that you had to pay to attend. One year he bought a ton of stuff, probably close to 100 items and he drew names to see who got what. We had a staff of 47 at the time (the good ole days) and a few of the higher-paid staffers refused the gifts when their names were called so someone else could get the item. No item was worth less than $50. A lot of the items were swag that the SE had been sent, but nobody cared about that. I think I left that party with a pair of hockey tickets, a $100 gift certificate for a massage and $100 gift certificate to buy.com back when that was the big place to buy DVDs.

I think if you took the combined value of my haul that year it was more than what I got every other year in journalism combined.

 

In the midst of an Xmas horror story (well, not really) right now. The day started with a TSA kerfuffle (daughter's boarding pass wouldn't scan and dingbat officer couldn't be bothered to tell her what the issue was or what she should do about it). Then, we had a gate change leading to about a 1.5 hour delay. Then on arrival we discovered that Hertz (and every other rental company) had way overbooked, so our reservation had been simply tossed aside. After 3.5 hours of waiting, we went to plan B, which was calling in a friend who's still half an hour away. And then there's the 2 hour drive we have to make once he picks is up. Happy holidays indeed ...

 

This all reminds me of a classic Seinfeld episode ...

Jerry: I don’t understand, I made a reservation, do you have my reservation?

Agent: Yes, we do, unfortunately we ran out of cars.

Jerry: But the reservation keeps the car here. That’s why you have the reservation.

Agent: I know why we have reservations.

Jerry: I don’t think you do. If you did, I’d have a car. See, you know how to take the reservation, you just don’t know how to *hold* the reservation and that’s really the most important part of the reservation, the holding. Anybody can just take them.

 

Came back to work after Christmas to find a $5 Starbucks card on my desk. First time I ever received anything extra. The streak is broken.

 

Just wait...the boss will come in Monday and ask if he left his Starbucks card on your desk by accident!

 

I haven't gotten any kind of gift from the company in at least 7 or 8 years. Back at my old shop, we would get a choice of turkey or ham for Thanksgiving and then the opposite on Christmas. That was pretty nice, and was much more appreciated in my house than a $25 gift card to Wal-Mart.

As far as Christmas party horror stories, the one that stands out in my mind happened about 15 years ago. I was the new guy and didn't really know anyone, and for some reason decided that the Christmas party would be the night I'd kind of let my hair down (so to speak). I drank a half-pint of whiskey before my sports editor boss picked me up to give me a ride to the party. On the way to the party, I stopped and got a pint of whiskey for the party. I remember enjoying the fabulous food spread. I remember taking our seats for the annual "Publisher's Presents", which were basically year-end awards for popular employees. And I remember the DJ getting the music cranking shortly after the Publisher's Presents were announced.

Everything after that was a blur. Bad thing was it was on a weekday, so I had to work the next day. Didn't remember how I got home, how I got in my bed, any of that. Alarm rang bright and early at 5 a.m. and hungover as hell, I went into work. Amazingly, everybody knew my name. Had more people tell me good morning that day than any other day I worked there. Sat down at my desk, looked over at my sports editor boss, who was having himself a good laugh at my expense and said "What the hell happened last night? I'm sore all over and my knees feel like I just caught 27 consecutive innings without a break."

He said "Well, once the music started, you went out on the dance floor and started dancing. By the end of the night, you were slam-dancing with the publisher (who was quite a big fellow, around 6-4 or 6-5, around 250 pounds)." I had no recollection of that at all, so I sat there stunned. He then added "That's not the worst part. You also proposed to (hot advertising chick) and when she told you she was already married, you said 'That's OK, your husband can come to the wedding.'"

Oddly enough, the publisher was pretty blitzed too that night, so we had a nice little laugh about the slam-dancing. He started to actually talk to me a lot more after that party. The advertising chick also became a lot more talkative around me and we're now Facebook friends. She brought up the Christmas party thing a couple of weeks back and reminded me of all that fun. She's still married, and still hot as hell.