And Your Little Fridge Too!

Back when I was working for a small IT consulting firm, I had a rather difficult relationship with the management team.  I was hired to manage a department based on my education, experience, and success.  Instead, once I was "on the job," I was expected to do everything the same way it had always been done.  Obviously, this was not a successful formula, and my ideas would have helped the company overcome some of its greatest limitations.  

I ultimately left that job for obvious reasons.  One example of the type of treatment I received was when I brought in a small fridge (brand new, super energy efficient) to hold my insulin, symlin, juice boxes, etc.  The only other fridge in the office was a community fridge in the "kitchen."  I didn't feel comfortable keeping my injectable meds in that fridge, and I was concerned that when I needed one, all of my juice boxes would be gone.  At every other job I'd had, a mini-fridge wasn't a problem.

So, after asking my boss about an expense report that still hadn't been paid (this company liked to play "funny money" with things including paychecks and 401Ks), he said, "That little fridge on your desk has to go."  Naturally, I was unhappy and asked why.  His response was that it will encourage others to have similar appliances in their offices or cubes.  I then responded that I needed a fridge because I am a diabetic with meds that must be kept cool.  He snapped, "This is the first I've heard about you being a diabetic."  I responded that I never mentioned it because it was (frankly) none of his business.  He told me to keep the meds in the community fridge.  I said I was uncomfortable doing so.  He said the fridge had to go. PERIOD.  I left his office saying nothing.  

About an hour later, I was summoned to the HR person's office (who just happened to be my boss' wife).  She said that if I needed to have a fridge at my desk (moving into the Americans with Disabilities Act), then I'd need a note from my doctor.  She used the term "make reasonable accommodations" several times.  Obviously, she told her husband that he can't just demand that I remove the fridge.  I told her that I'd have a doctor's note faxed ASAP.  

The next morning, note in hand, I marched to the copy machine.  I made one copy for HR, one for my boss, and one I stuck right on the front of the fridge.  Overkill?  Perhaps.  I didn't care.

The last thing I packed up when I finally left that job was my little fridge.