In June 2001, I found him alive and kicking in New York City when my son was 15. It's the reason that I inquired from my supervisor about back pay, and child support. My supervisor refused to point me in the right direction. He didn't even refer me to any agencies.
I worked as the Acting Controller from 9:00 A:M until 6:00 P:M. On the day that my son was assaulted, my supervisor ordered me to leave the premises at 5:30 P:M without offering any explanations. It was bizarre! My son had never telephoned me at work. He didn't have my work number because I gave him my cellular number. My supervisor and my son had never met. Two employees urged me to conduct a police investigation to learn why my son was assaulted after I consulted with my supervisor about collecting child support from his father. I couldn't fathom the connection between my son's father and my supervisor so I didn't conduct a police investigation.
Two weeks later, my jewelry worth more than $3,000,000.00 was stolen from my attaché case. I kept the attaché case locked up inside one of the cabinets in my office. During the time that I used the restrooms, my attaché case was locked up inside the cabinets along with the confidential accounting records. It was only me and my supervisor who had access to the cabinets. When I asked my supervisor to inquire from the employees if anyone had seen my jewelry, he became a terror on wheels.
"Amanda, gather your belongings!" yelled my supervisor.
“Why?" I asked.
“Accountemps's sending someone to replace you!," yelled my supervisor.
"Why?" I asked again.
"Amanda, you are fired again and again," yelled my supervisor.
"Al right," I said.
"Good luck to you, Amanda!" he yelled.
"Best wishes, Scott," I said.
On September 10, 2001, the day before the September 11, 2001 catastrophe, he wrongfully terminated me because I reported that my jewelry was missing. Afterwards, I reported my stolen jewelry to Washington, DC police. I wanted them to give him the third degree, but the police declined. Two years later on June 20, 2003, my son was kidnapped, and on October 7, 2003, my father died because of the acts of discrimination, obsession, and terrorism that we suffered.
My son and I were on our way to Massachusetts to continue our studies, but the sick and twisted minds in the Washington, DC area again refused to grasp the reality of it all. To this day, they're still holding my son as a slave in the hopes that I might return. I will never give the enemy the ammunition. I might add that I forgot my radio at work when he unceremoniously terminated me. Several times, I telephoned Accountemps about my radio.
"You should go and pick it up," said a male employee of Accountemps.
"I can't. He yelled at me. His yelling increased the intensity of my physical disability. Several times, I fell sideways. He never once inquired if I was alright," I said.
"I can't help you," he said.
When I arrived, I telephoned my former supervisor from downstairs because I couldn't afford to go upstairs since his yelling increased the intensity of my physical disability. During the six week assignment, I fell sideways on a number of occasions. He didn't apologize. Instead, he made a mockery of the situation by bashing an eyelid like a harebrained.
"I'm waiting at the security guard's desk. Please send someone to bring down my radio. It's a gift from my husband," I said.
I waited for hours on end before he finally dispatched one of his messengers downstairs with my radio. Prior to the wrongfully termination, the same supervisor falsely imprisoned me in the copier room and announced to me.
"I do not have dinners with women," he yelled.
Again, I invented the concept of walking away since I was two years old. When these terrorists bring back my father from the dead, return my son to me, apologize to me and my family, donate money to several children's organizations in my name, and pay money to me and my son, I'd reconsider my decision of returning to the Washington, DC area.
During the legal proceedings, I accorded them the opportunity to settle with me, apologize to me and my family, and donate money to several children's organizations in my name. As always, they flunked miserably. Good people don't kidnap. Good people don't enslave anyone. Good people don't haul someone's son back and forth to jail. Good people don't fire you because you reported your jewelry stolen. Good people don't yell at anyone, especially at work. Good people will apologize to you.
