THE DAY THEY FIRED ME

THE DAY THEY FIRED ME

The truth they didn’t want me to speak.
This isn’t just a story about losing a job.
It’s the moment everything became clear —
why management watched me,
why they stalked my TikTok,
why they didn’t like my questions,
why they didn’t like my truth,
and why they finally pushed me out.
They didn’t fire me because I failed.
They fired me because I saw too much and wasn’t afraid to talk about it.

⭐ THE MORNING IT HAPPENED
I came in and did what I always did:
• washed the residents
• dressed them
• fed them
• finished the dining room
I took care of the people who depended on me.
I didn’t cut corners.
I didn’t rush anyone.
I didn’t treat residents like tasks — I treated them like people.
Extra-Mural was coming that day with another round of shots, and I had already asked the question management hated most:
“Why are they still giving these shots?”
Questions like that get you in trouble.
Especially when you refuse to back down.

⭐ THE GENERAL MANAGER’S SILENT EXIT
Right before they told me to go to the office, I saw something that said everything.
The general manager — the same one who had told me my TikTok was “disgusting” because I was political and outspoken — slipped quietly out of the office and snuck out the front door like it was just another day.
No eye contact.
No hello.
No nod.
Just… gone.
Like someone avoiding responsibility.
Like someone making sure they weren’t in the room for what was about to happen.
The moment I saw him disappear, I knew something was off.

⭐ “GO TO THE OFFICE.”
After the hardest part of the morning was finished, they finally said:
“When you’re done, go to the office.”
No tone.
No explanation.
Just instructions.
I walked in expecting a conversation, a meeting — something.
Instead, they simply handed me a paper and said:
“You’re fired.”
That was it.
No discussion.
No humanity.
No explanation.
Cold.
Scripted.
Already decided.
They let me do all the morning work —
then fired me once the residents were cared for.

⭐ THE EXCUSE THEY TRIED TO USE
Their excuse?
Attendance.
But that wasn’t the truth.
Because if it were real, EI would have denied me.
But they didn’t.
I fought for months.
EI went through every date, every note, every emergency —
and saw everything was legitimate:
• real sick days
• real medical issues
• real doctor’s notes
• real family emergencies
EI ruled:
The firing was not justified.
I was entitled to EI.
Their own attempt to punish me exposed them.

⭐ WHY THEY REALLY FIRED ME
Here’s the truth:
They didn’t fire me because of my job performance —
I was one of the best workers they had.
Residents loved me.
Families trusted me.
Coworkers told me I spoiled everyone.
I made the floor run smoothly.
I was fast, detailed, and compassionate.
They fired me because:
• I spoke out online
• I questioned the shots
• I refused to look the other way
• I warned people
• I told the truth
• I paid attention
• I posted about corruption
• I was political
• I was awake
• hospital nurses quietly told me the same things I was seeing
• I didn’t play along with the script management wanted
And they hated that.
Especially the GM —
the one who called my TikTok “disgusting.”
Not because it was wrong,
but because it was TRUE.

⭐ WALKING OUT
Walking out wasn’t about losing a job.
It was about leaving behind the people I cared for:
• the ones who waited for me
• the ones who felt safe with me
• the ones who trusted me
• the ones fading in front of my eyes
• the ones whose spark was disappearing
I worried who would take care of them now.
Who would comfort them the way I did.
Who would notice things the way I did.
Who would listen the way I listened.

⭐ THE FINAL MOMENT
As I was leaving the building, Extra-Mural arrived with the shots.
I looked right at the young nurse and said:
“You’re killing the residents.”
She didn’t deny it.
She didn’t argue.
She didn’t defend the program.
She just said:
“I’m just doing my job.”
And that tells you everything.
They didn’t fire me to punish me.
They fired me to silence me.
But instead, they set me free.
And now I’m telling the story they hoped I’d bury.