There is one person on this entire campus who, when I look him in the face and say hello, says nothing back.
He has an attitude. There's some entitlement in it. Old school. I just want to come in and do my job, I'm not here to make friends. I know that guy. I've been that guy. And I want to tell him what somebody eventually told me: you don't have to be my friend, but you don't get to be an asshole. Kind, courteous, respectful. That's not extra. That's the entry fee for working with other human beings.
So he's probably a horrible employee. Fine. Here's what I told my chef anyway.
We still can't just fire him.
Not because of some corporate rule, though there are rules. Because of fairness. If we have nothing on paper, no documentation, no coaching, no counseling, then we have nothing. Innocent until proven guilty. We do the due diligence not because he's earned it but because every one of us would expect that same courtesy extended to ourselves on our worst week.
Two things can be true at the same time. He can be a terrible hire and still be owed the benefit of the doubt.
And here's the third thing that can also be true: the guy could be going through something. A hard patch at home. He may have been told one thing when he was hired and found something else when he showed up. One honest conversation and one piece of paper might change him entirely. I've seen it happen. I've been changed by it.
Or it won't. And then the paper is there, and the process is clean, and nobody can say we didn't try.
I'll be straight with you. If I was ever an asshole in a kitchen, it was because I felt like I was sliding somewhere and didn't have the maturity to name it. I was forced to grow up. I was forced to make amends for bad career decisions and reconcile with people I'd wronged. The lesson I got out of all of that is simple: if I'm in a bad mood at work every single day, the problem is not the dishwasher. The problem is that I need to leave.
Give people the process. Give yourself the honesty.