Getting Fired Sucks (Especially When It’s a Lifestyle Choice)

I got fired from the first job I ever had. I was 16 years old and working at a Hardee’s Restaurant, a fast-food burger joint common throughout the upper Midwest in the 1970s. I’d been there about a year. A young upstart, even younger than me at 15, had been promoted to assistant manager. Nobody liked this kid—he had a huge ego and was a suck-up to the manager, and everyone could see it except, apparently, the manager.

Once his promotion took place, this kid’s domineering presence in the restaurant became oppressive. He disrespected employees who were twice his age and had been there for several years (and had been passed up for the same promotion), as well as new hires like me. His inevitable clash with me, someone who doesn’t take lightly to being pushed around, was right around the corner. I don’t remember the circumstances specifically, but I resisted some edict he’d handed down, and this 15-year-old punk fired me.

I was so outraged at being fired by someone younger than me and who seemingly overstepped their authority, that I wrote the manager a letter. I outlined the grievances of the entire staff over his boorish behavior and the effect he was having on morale. And, get this: at my tender age of 16, I was already aware that the management was breaking child labor laws by allowing this 15-year-old assistant manager, as well as other young employees, to work until 2 a.m. to close the restaurant, unsupervised by an adult. I’d done it myself dozens of times. I threatened to turn the manager in.

When I went to pick up my final paycheck, I was told this by the other assistant manager: “Yeah, you know, George was going to rehire you, because he agreed with pretty much everything you said in that letter. He didn’t realize that idiot was marching around here like he owned the place. Until you threatened him. Shouldn’t have done that.”

As I’ve grown older, I’ve come to some understanding about where my problems with authority and injustice come from. About why I and a few of my siblings have been the happiest and the most successful as self-employed individuals. Growing up in a home led by an authoritative, domineering, and violent father does not give one a good basis for having an innate trust in leadership. I’ve never felt that anyone has my back, feelings of betrayal rise to the surface quickly, and knowing I must look out for myself has been the overriding philosophy of my life. To shove these feelings down and learn to trust someone is very difficult for me.

Perhaps I missed my calling. With my innate, knee-jerk reaction to unfairness, bullying, or cheating, especially in the workplace, maybe I should have become a lawyer. At least I’d have some recourse, and I wouldn’t feel so powerless at times.

Now, 50 years later, I’ve done it to myself again. I spoke up when I shouldn’t have, and it’s cost me my job.

Artificial intelligence (AI) is all the rage right now; we are seeing it talked about, hailed as the new king, but also feared. “It will take your job,” we are warned in some circles. Writers, editors, actors, and others in the creative fields are particularly justified in being worried about the direction industry is going with AI. A lawsuit was filed by The New York Times because AI (OpenAI and ChatGPT specifically) was trained by stealing copyrighted material off the internet. As of March 2025, a judge allowed this case to go forward after Microsoft requested that the case be tossed out. This is only one of many lawsuits currently in the courts.

While I can’t go into specifics, I spoke up when I saw the direction my company was taking with generative AI—among other things, it could eliminate whole teams of technical writers and editors, mine included. And that was enough to get me sacked. Just bringing it up; asking a few pointed questions.

Unlike when I was 16, there was no heated argument, no shouting or butting of heads. I sent an email when I saw something amiss; when I felt I had more information that wasn’t being considered. This was something I’d done dozens of times before, reaching out to trusted colleagues. I agonized over that email, honestly trying to make it well-reasoned and respectful sounding. This wasn’t a Terry Moran mean tweet. And yet, it got circulated, and someone on high took offense. And here we are. They officially called it a layoff, but I wasn’t born yesterday.

It’s astounding to me that in this day and age, in a corporate culture that supposedly values “people over profits” and encourages a free exchange of ideas, this could happen. 

After quickly processing the normal shock–incredulity–anger–resignation emotions, I’ve since cycled through the true five stages of grief: 1) curl up in a ball for 2 days and sleep, 2) cancel any unnecessary subscriptions, 3) contact former colleagues (and hear crickets), 4) file for unemployment, and 5) wake up with a sense of relief and new possibilities. I will turn this into something good.

I think it was in a Tiny Buddha post that I once read, “The universe keeps bringing the same people into your life, until you learn the lesson.” Since this happened, I’m trying to figure out which lesson has yet to sink in: the “go along to get along” lesson; the “don’t say a word, just find another job” lesson; or the “unless you own the company, no one cares what you have to say” lesson. Must be one of those.