Before I begin, might I remind you that I’ve still got my $500 Visa Card giveaway going on? CLICK HERE. Do it. Unless you have oodles of cash lying around and do not NEED an extra $500, then absolutely don’t click there. Might as well leave it for someone else to win…

At the end of January, I wrote about what was probably the most challenging time I’ve ever had in the workplace. The situation was beyond-stressful for me–I went home and cried on a daily basis–but I put on my rose-colored glasses (and my big girl pants), kept looking for silver linings, and did my best with what I had to work with. (Read that post here if you need to catch up.)

I wanted to give you the epilogue to the story.

Only a couple of months after that jerk started working at the club and relegated me to the tiny room in the back corner of the building, it started to become clear to management that he was indeed on the sleazy side (which was something I knew from the moment he walked in the door) and they started documenting some questionable behavior, ethics-wise.

As you probably know, people who are in sales (of any kind) normally have quotas. When you’re selling health club memberships, your quota is typically monthly, and there are nice bonuses for achieving those goals.

On the last day of that month, this unsavory co-worker of mine was discovered* to have grabbed at least one random guy who was walking by, convinced him to join the club with the promise that he could cancel a couple of days later (state law says you have three days), and then–Ding Ding Ding!–turned in his end-of-the-month report to management, which stated that he achieved his sales goal, so he could rake in that handsome bonus.

Two days later, several of the new members abruptly canceled their memberships, and the jig was up.

And then? Boom, Roasted! He was fired.

I wouldn’t be completely honest if I told you that I didn’t do my own version of “Neener, neener” after I found out he had just been escorted out of the health club, so I won’t tell you that I didn’t do that.

Bottom line: In this case, it was great to see justice in action. Oh yeah, and it was great to see my old desk in the front of the health club again. I moved back in immediately. It was a happy day.

*BTW, though I wish I could have been the whistle-blower in his case, I had nothing to do with it. Besides, I couldn’t see anything he was doing, ever, since I was in the back room.

©2010 Suburban Scrawl