The Appraisal Process

I didn't go to Police Precinct, 55 Division, in the seedy east end district yesterday. Prior to notifying the authorities, Kissy wanted to talk to Giuseppe first. She had considered every good thing that Giuseppe had been to her during her tenure. When she presented this idea of a meeting, Giuseppe had asked that Matty and I accompany her.

For very good reasons, for flimsy reasons and for no reason at all, Kissy wasn't always able to work the scheduled shifts she garnered. She was rendered unreliable at certain points. Though he was frustrated, she stayed on board because Giuseppe loved her.

Before I had quit in the beginning of last summer, Matty had tried to get away with as much as he could. I caught him doing things he shouldn't have been doing. Giuseppe knew, but he remained on board, regardless. By the end of his 2 1/2 year reign, Giuseppe had given him the most responsibility of anyone else considered general staff. Matty was given this responsibility because Giuseppe loved him.

Giuseppe has an enormous heart which sees. It sees a person's essence and forgives the rest. Every single person who has received a paycheque signed by him has gotten away with action or behaviour which would garner our skank ass fired anywhere else in this city. Mine included.

The Comrade's First Night
She is working behind the bar. She has been clocked in for approximately 5 hours. Sitting at the bar is a young man who looks not unlike Howdy Doodie, replete with neckerchief and pink gingham button down shirt. Sitting next to Howdy Doodie is Gorgeous Specimen of a Man.

The Comrade: [bellowing and pointing at Gorgeous] Are you fucking him?!
Howdy Doodie: [beaming with pride] Yeesss!
The Comrade: [still bellowing] I am so jealous!
Everyone stops what they are doing, open-mouthed gapes abound. I skip away. Tra-la-la. Giuseppe continues to sip his drink.

Giuseppe is the best parent I've ever seen. He never tells his children what to do. He allows them to make their own decisions. He guides, he doesn't lay down the law. He truly believes that failure is the ultimate teacher. The important thing is to try. He is wise. I have learned much from him.

When we first heard that Giuseppe wanted all three of us to convene at the restaurant last night, all three of us were dubious. What was this all about? Why all three of us? This was Kissy's issue with Johnny K, the Police Man, the Stupid Disgusting Pig of a Man. How were we all implicated?

I write a blog which Giuseppe routinely reads.

Matty lives with Kissy. He is finishing off his last days at the restaurant as he'd given notice just over a week ago. What happens to people once they realise they can no longer work in a place, for whatever reason, is they become beyond ineffectual workers. They become toxic. All the injustices felt, the rationale behind the reasons for leaving, bubble up. Matty was caustic last Saturday night. Throughout his tenure, Matty had seen bad behaviour rewarded and good behaviour punished. He saw people come and go who never cared an ounce for the place, getting away with proverbial murder. They not only remained on board, but received choice shifts. He saw people who put their heart and soul into the place who were systematically let go. Myself included. Matty, once upon a time, was a Bad Behaviourist. Forgetting where he came from to be who he is today, he gave one last ditch effort at a great big fuck you to the place. He'd done it before, never being released. His mantra became: No man is more dangerous than he who has nothing to lose. He was going to go out with a bang.

[ A hand strikes a wooden match. Camera pans down as the match lights a fuse. Camera follows the snaking fuse to the source] BOOM!

Matty was incredibly hostile and defensive. He didn't know why we were asked to be there. Understanding Giuseppe fundamentally, I understood he needed time to arrive at the point. He needed time to gently remind us who and what he had been to us. Matty didn't give him this time. Frustrated and feeling rushed, with Kissy and I present, Giuseppe had asked Matty not to come in to finish the notice he had given. Tears welled up. He had just been unceremoniously let go. No watch. No lunch.

I've always been a huge proponent of debriefs. Post mortems. All three of us became synonymous with the Dream Team. Giuseppe was worried that we three, who had become his friends, could now potentially be hatching a plan to wound him. To ruin him and his beautiful family.

Because he's been as fair and as forgiving of everyone who has walked into the place as potentials; because he's been a sensitive ear, soft slumped, hairy shoulders to lean against when the world has been less than (seemingly) fair; because he is chiefly good and demonstratively consistent; there is absolutely no way we would ever bring any harm to him. We love him. He was never to be involved. This is not his battle. It's Kissy's.

He realised he's made mistakes. He lives the lessons he teaches his children. He fundamentally understands that we have to live and die by the decisions we make on any given day. In his past he had fought for something he believed in. Though it was taxing to his soul and his good name, he fought and won.

In no way trying to dissuade Kissy in her fight, Giuseppe, as a friend, wanted her to understand how taxing a process this fight would be. There would be no guarantees she would come out the victor. "Would it be worth it," he asked. Kissy, ever thoughtful, considered all angles. As hard as this will be, she realised for her to not do something would be soul's corruption.

At another place and time, the universe had given Giuseppe another fight to consider. Basing his decision on the torment from his past trial, it was something he learned that in the end would have cost too much time, too much effort and too much money. He chose not to fight that time. But was it worth it? That is something he has to live and die by.

Yesterday, I received an email from my new friend Jamie, the euphonium playing Georgian cop. He had just come back from a trial. He was placed on the stand as a witness. He was the reporting officer during a DUI investigation. Another case of another drunk had been on the road.

Eight years ago.

Eight years ago Jamie went to a horror scene.
Eight years ago he witnessed a driver who was "shitfaced drunk".
Eight years ago that drunk driver left a legacy.
Eight years ago Jamie had picked up a little 2 year old's decapitated head. The legacy.
Eight years later, a criminal lawyer put Jamie on the stand. His eyesight and hearing were under scrutiny. Under examination. He was treated like a criminal.

I've met Jamie twice in person. Each time, from some distance he recognised me. Each time he never asked me to repeat anything I said. I believe he had substantive enough ability through all his senses to properly assess the situation and to report it accurately. But that's just my opinion and I wasn't there. I just understand character. This Shitfaced Drunk will have to live and die with the decision he made going behind the wheel of his car and killing that little 2 year old girl.

Eight years later it went to trial.
Eight years later, a person whom I feel is another of God's special creatures, was on trial too.
Eight years later, the Shitfaced Drunk won.

Post post mortem, stepping outside, Giuseppe sighed,"Ah... fresh air." While he was driving me home I asked if things were clearer, if there were no misunderstandings. When he said "yes", I hope he was telling the truth.

I know you're reading this. I know you know I'm a woman of her word.
I've got your back.
But regardless of the outcome, there are things worthy of a fight.