- Illustration: Andrea Tsurumi
[Editor’s Note: A couple of months ago we asked readers to (anonymously!) send in a 500-word essay on why they think they’re the “Worst Person in Portland” with the winner receiving a $300 grand prize. What we got was an outpouring of self-loathing, passive aggressiveness, and misguided narcissism… in other words, so much fun! However, it made us contemplate what it actually means to be “the worst.” Is it the obvious evil that humanity commits against each other—robbing old ladies, kicking puppies, and the like? Or is it the common, everyday evil that each of us hides within our souls? While you ponder that philosophical question, check out the winning essay in our “Portland’s Worst Person” contest, as well as the runners-up, who will each get a nice consolation prize. (Well, nicer than they deserve, anyway.) Take it away, terrible people!]
GRAND PRIZE WINNER!
How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria?
by RetailHell666
I came to Portland and landed a high-profile, extremely well-paid job running a multimillion-dollar business. I worked hard and sacrificed everything for this company. My salary jumped, as well as my official title and responsibilities. The business I worked for has stores in over 37 countries, a net worth in the billions, is shopped at by most women, and fiercely loved by those who do. Over the years I was with this company, I slowly began to understand the term “evil corporation.” I also became a part of what made it so greedy and heartless.
We were encouraged to hire young kids who’d never had a job before. They said it was because people with no work history were the best to mold to our unique business model. It was actually so that the company could bully them, bend rights and regulations… knowing full well that these kids wouldn’t know any better and would be less likely to sue. For a long while I was able to appease corporate, while making the best working conditions I could for my staff. That’s how I slept at night.
Then one of my sales associates got pregnant. She was 18 years old, the dad dropped her, and her religious family cut her off. She was scared, but comforted knowing she had a full-time job with the company. She let me know she intended to work as long as she could. I promised I would accommodate her in any way possible. I’ll call her Maria. She was about six months into her pregnancy when my scheduled routine visit from the corporate bigwigs occurred. They did their usual two-day audit of all operations, personnel, and costs. Two days later, my district manager had a meeting with me. She told me I had to “get Maria out of here.”