The $2.7 Million Stinking Pile of Poo

About 3 years ago I took on an enormous responsibility for my job.  It was at a time in my life when I was very, VERY stressed out, ill, and fragile both physically and emotionally.  I had never had any experience in the area of responsibility I was about to take on.  No clue.  None.  I was handed over a stack of paper, hap-hazzard computer records, a list of suspected players, and was told told to run with it.  Oh, and by the way... arbitration decisions and a person's well-being (or not) depend on this new responsibility that have several moving parts and involves lots of people.

Gulp.  Ok.  Put on my 'big girl' panties and deal with it.  I spent countless hours organizing, reading, going through bank statements, and trying to make rhyme and reason out of the pile that was handed over...and... more importantly... trying to figure out where the games were being played.

My responsibility took about 2 years to figure out and get it down.  I got the program running like a Swiss clock like it was supposed to.  I was proud of taking this project on during a stressful time in my life and making sense of it.  During the process of figuring this thing out, several red flags were raised in monetary disbursements, contract awards, and premiums paid.   I smelled something rotten in Denmark.  Something was not right in this set up, and I had my own internal hunches. 

No matter.  As I was in the beginning stages of compiling my findings, the FBI called.  Apparently, one of the players was being investigated and there were others who were suspect.  Personally, I had nothing to hide and did not receive any outlandish payments, kickbacks, nor perks.  My tracks were clean and easy to follow and verify.   My operation (once I took it over) was legitimate.  It was the previous administration that was under the magnifying glass.  I had all the official records of this organization from inception until present.

Of course, all of this spread like wildfire throughout my industry.  The loudest complainer (from LA of course) had suspected something was rotten with this program for YEARS prior to this incident and calling for an audit.  Great.  I take over a $2.7 million stinking pile of poo, make sense out of it, compile my findings, and now facing colleague complainers from Los Angeles who think they have all the answers and can do better?  I am NOT guilty. 

OK... called the Mr. Los Angeles bluff.  I'm sure Los Angeles CAN do better and can dig 25 years into the archives with the FBI and unravel even more to prosecute.  Go for it.  This Los Angeles guy has a hard-on for the prior administrator.  I happily complied.  Here you go, Mr. Los Angeles.  It's ALL yours. In the meantime, there is a legitimate portion of this program that needs attention daily. 

I relinquished my duties immediately and offered to send any and all records from inception to present to Mr. Los Angeles, et al, to keep forever and ever to plough through.  Knock yourselves out. 

Tick tock, tick tock.... I'm waiting for final word to close out the local bank account and remove myself as a signer.  After all, people need to be paid, policies need attention, decisions need to be made, bank accounts need to be moved, etc., etc., etc.,  Being I'm incompetent and untrustworthy and LA can do it all better than I, I don't want any more banking transactions associated with my name attached. 

Now Los Angeles is figuring out how much legitimate WORK there is involved and shirking taking it over.  There it sits.  Los Angeles complained and I gave them total control.  Guess what.  I have $2.7 million waiting to hand over.  Los Angeles figured out they could not possibly take this over for the extremely modest amount I was getting compensated.  Now they have aligned somebody who is going to get 5x the amount I was getting.  The money is STILL waiting to be wired over to them because the new person can't figure it out.  

I received several panicked phone calls today and emails from Mr. Wonderful Los Angeles who is making 5x for the same job desperate for help.  No, I'm not going to do his transition shit work for him.  It's his baby now.  They could do it all better than I, right?  Don't give my job to somebody who is going to make 5x what I did and then call me for help.  Click. 

The beauty of it is that I'm not going to suffer any loss of income.  I was assigned something else that is far less complicated and does not involve the FBI;)