Behind the Bins: The Untold Story of 1800 GOTJUNK or "How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Labour Board Appeals"

I'm really bored so I decided to complete some unfinished blog entries from last year when I was really active. Here's one from the archives. Hopefully the freedom of speech that blogs afford and the time that has passed will balance out the settlement I signed pledging not to publicize this story:

July 2005:

"Ok so I haven't told you about my job.
The reason I haven't told you is because of my job.
I work minimum 12 hour days 4 days a week.
If this is what my articling year is like I'm getting some pretty good practice for the [Work you like a dog] <--------> [have no life] spectrum as described by my property professor - who quit the profession to teach.
Anyway I work for 1-800-Got-Junk. It's not a far cry from my previous job at Starbucks. Got Junk is the Starbucks of trash removal companies. Really overpriced and expensive. But what snazzy uniforms and excellent service.
Dang. My customer service skills are so damned honed. I shmoooze with every customer who is shmoozable. Especially customers who are Jewish, in the law profession or some other common grounds that I can use as an icebreaker.
Why do I shmooze so much? Because the customers are generally really rich (they'd have to be to afford this service) and they might potentially have cash in their pockets to tip me with.
Hell getting tips is sweet. I am so jealous of waitresses in really busy restaurants where they are waiting on 10 tables at once and the food is kinda expensive. 15% of all that grub is some serious bling. And tips are in cash and go right into your pocket and there's something cool about getting actual hard currency in your hand instead of a larger cheque every two weeks.
We find plenty of great stuff along the way. One man's garbage is truly another man's treasure. Thus far I have furnished myself and my friends with great furniture, TVs, a "Tony Little's Gazelle" and a limited edition Chagall print that one ebay seller valued at $5000 in mint condition (unfortunately it was left behind when my girlfriend moved out of her apartment.)

July 2006 (cont'd):

Here's the aftermath of that job. A year later I can look back on this story and really laugh:

My last day on the job with 1800 GOT JUNK? was very dramatic. It started out like any other day with the regular schedule of domestic cleanouts. I was working with a temp worker whose English was poor but was built like an ox and worked hard when instructed to do so. We were a bit ahead of schedule so we picked up another job from the dispatcher. A real estate agent was picking up the tab for the new residents. The previous inhabitants had lived in abject squalor. It was quite disgusting.

So Mr. Crooked Real Estate Agent pulled a fast one on us. He handed us a cheque and accepted a receipt for the rooms that he had showed us and wanted us to clean out. After that contract was essentially finalized and we'd agreed to clean out the whole house (or what we thought was the whole house) he points to what looks like a small area under the basement stairs where he said there were a few boxes. Once the area was illuminated it turned out to be a huge area with a 100 sq foot area and a 4 foot ceiling. It was full of boxes and garbage. Oh and it was also full of several years worth of feces from the previous owners 9 cats.

We didn't realize the extent of the filth until we were covered in it and our olfactory systems recovered from shock. I immediately called the company's dispatcher to quote the section of their training manual that deals with workplace safety: "The workers shall have the right to refuse any job they consider to be a health hazard (e.g. chemicals, biological waste, etc)." In my personal mathematics 9 cats x over a decade of unsupervised defecation = the world's biggest and most unsanitary indoor litter box.

The company had recently expanded it's management structure to include a totally unnecessary layer of middle managers between the owners (who in previous years had directly and expertly managed the workers and treated them with a lot of respect) and the guys in the trucks. The guy on dispatch was one such manager - he had recently been promoted from several years as a glorified garbage man and was power tripping as if he was the owner's nephew.

After explaining the situation,

Mr. Responsible Management says: "I appreciate your assessment of the situation. However, if you already accepted payment from the customer and promised them to finish the job you're going to have to do it."

I respond: "So am I to understand that I have no choice but to finish this job and risk my health?"

He answers: "That's right."

To which I retort: "If that's the case you officially have my resignation effective immediately. Send some other guys over to risk their health tomorrow."

At this point it was 10PM and my partner and I had been working for over 15 hours with no dinner.

I was asked to drive the truck back to its parking spot at the company HQ down at Lakeshore Blvd and Parliament. The house where we were working was up in Markham. (i.e. 45 minute drive without traffic for non-Torontonians). I spewed off one of the greatest feeling quitting lines ever: "Actually [manager's name], I don't work for your company anymore so I'm going to park the truck at a more convenient location for myself and you can go pick it up yourself tomorrow morning. Have a good evening."

I did just that and called the owner the next morning. The owner was a wonderful boss when he managed his company directly and I had a great relationship with him. However he was a businessman first and foremost. When I explained the misunderstanding and asked for my job back, he said he needed a week to think about it. I realized that was a cowardly way of saying there was no way in hell I'd get my job back so I immediately got into unemployed law student mode.

I called the Workplace Safety and Insurance Board (WSIB), the Ministry of Health and the Ontario Labour Relations Board (OLRB) and reported the incident. They moved really fast and within a week I was interviewed by several inspectors about the working conditions at the company. 1800 GOT JUNK prided itself on its commitment to safety and I was about to tarnish that reputation. Professor Michael Lynk of Western provided some great and free advise as I was going through the process. Long story short - after some interesting negotiation mediated by an OLRB inspector, the company wrote me a cheque for two weeks pay to shut me up. I put that money to good use when I went to Europe two weeks later. (I had been planning to quit to go traveling when all this happened anyway.) The settlement agreement from the lawyer had me agree that I don't initiate any further action. It didn't say anything about posting the story on my blog. Hope you enjoyed it.