Remember the posts I wrote about our ex Scrum-Master, who was with us in the first month of this job? I thought I’d never hear about him again, but he turned up for the last chapter last week, so I thought I’d share it.
It turned out his decision to resign on the Monday after being notified of his suspension, without even waiting for the hearing, was not the smart choice I thought he realized needed to be done. Instead, it was a tactic that went along with his story that tried to make a case for constructive dismissal, which he took to the CCMA. He tried to get them to pay him the other 11 months of the 12 month contract.
The case came up last week on Tuesday, which happened to be the same day as Josh’s case, so I wasn’t able to be a witness against him. Actually I had a funny feeling about the way the case would turn out, and I turned out being correct. None of the witnesses against him even got to speak in the court.
But I’ll get to that soon enough. First, take a walk with me, backwards in time to the day he was notified of his suspension…
Imagine the surprise for our HR manager, after she notified him, to be subjected to the same bullshit as the rest of us! He tried to explain to her what it was like here, from his distorted and sadly confused point of view. And as I may have mentioned before, whenever he spoke about anything, somehow the explanation turned into a lecture and a lesson about Scrum. Always! The same shit every time; this drawing he did on the board, a particular way he explained the various stages of the Scrum process, and some odd personalization of the various roles to explain part of it, in his comical South African Indian accent… In explaining complexity and task planning… “I’ve done this before, I know how long it takes, Da da da”. When it went on for hours, day after day, it lost the funny part though, but I will never forget him. Those words and the way they were always followed by Da da da will remain with me forever.
Needless to say, it doesn’t take anyone very long to get the feeling that something is not quite right about the guy, so he did a bang-up job of letting HR know that he was indeed the problem here, dispelling any doubts she may have had.
I confess I don’t know what the court’s decision was, but he did exactly what I thought he would; so overconfident he is – he represented himself. The others don’t even know what he said… they could just see him through a glass door… speaking from 9AM until around 6PM, after they had already gone home.
Maybe he missed the school English classes where they studied a particular type of poem that he reminded me of since day one: A dramatic monologue. Too bad, because he did in court exactly what he did here; talked himself right into his grave. In a dramatic monologue, the speaker airs his often lofty opinions, runs others down, maybe tells a whole bunch of lies; the end result being he inadvertently reveals his temperament, his true intentions, his weaknesses… everything, and gains some new enemies in the process.
Well done, stupid. No witnesses are required when you talk yourself right out of your case. Anyway, though I don’t know the result, I do know that magistrates are not stupid. Nobody would let someone talk on for so long by himself unless he was doing a better job verbally crucifying himself than anybody else ever could.
I had felt empathy for him, until the last day. In the last half-hour before he left, he made a nasty comment about the other team members, who were not in the room. He started it off with something along the lines of “I hope nobody is sensitive around here” and then he gloated. Too bad – actually I am sensitive – I don’t watch sad movies because I get upset and then often I cry more than girls do. I’m not embarrassed about it. It’s who I am. But my sensitivity had made me sympathetic for him. I felt much better when he inadvertently informed me that he did not deserve any empathy.
So farewell, you fucking loon. I hope we never meet anytime soon. And da da fucking da.