I know you'll never read this but I need to write it anyways. Because if I don't there may be random acts of unpleasantness in your future and I just think it's better for both of us if I write you a little letter.
My friend, we'll just call my friend "Downtrodden" for the rest of this letter, works for you. Downtrodden knew that there was an on-call portion to the job when he started. He was TOLD it would be one weekend a month and, really, that isn't all THAT awful. But on-call means you are working for 12 days in a row and then have a weekend (a mere 2 days off). So when you are working on call every other frickin week that's 12 on/2 off/12 on/2 off and THAT is simply inhuman and not what Downtrodden signed up for. Add to that the fact that on-call USED to mean overtime most of the time and there was at least a paltry financial reward for being tethered to your phone all frickin weekend, answering the beck and call of the lonely. And yeah, most of the weekend calls are from LONELY people who want SOMEONE to pay attention. But now you've decided that the best plan EVAR is to "short" hours before oncall time thus making sure your employees don't get any financial bonus and are, instead, compelled to come into the office if they don't get enough emergency call action.
Another thing I am going to take issue with. Downtrodden now uses his own phone instead of the company phone on his oncall weekends. When, exactly, are you going to start chipping in to pay part of our cell phone bill? Yeah... I thought as much.... Hrumph.
Also, your habit of telling Downtrodden lies because you haven't got the balls to be upfront about what a lazy fuck you are is not appealing nor is it making you any friends. And telling Downtrodden to do X and then getting mad when he does X and claiming you never said to do X? Let's just say that I believe you are still amongst the living after that bullshit only because Downtrodden doesn't REALLY want to have to watch his ass (literally) in a prison shower. Pray he never develops a fetish for playing rousing games of "we don't DROP the soap in here, son!"
Finally (for this letter anyways), I'd like to address your
Hate & Pinches,