Apparently, Being Honest Makes You a Problem—Blocked by a Charity Foundation and Fired from My Job

You ever speak up about something that’s just wrong—then get shut out for telling the truth? Funny enough, I got blocked by a charity foundation I’ve actually donated to.

That’s where I’m at. Monday, I found out I’d been blocked by the a foundation in the city of Detroit that raises money for First Responders. No warning, no message—just blocked. And all because I reposted a story about K9 Echo, a Detroit Fire Department k9, and added a note that the information in the post was false. The city had paid for Echo’s vet bills, despite what was being claimed.

I even called my mom and asked her to check from her account, just to be sure. Sure enough, the post was still up, and I was still blocked. Why? Because I had the nerve to say the truth out loud.

Before that, I’d commented on their post, suggesting they issue a correction. Something simple: admit they jumped the gun, apologize, and give people the facts. But instead of owning up to the mistake, they doubled down—kept thanking donors, kept the false narrative going, and quietly blocked me like that would erase the truth.

It’s infuriating. How do people get so comfortable lying—especially when it involves public donations, a working dog, and the trust of a community?

And look—I understand why people might be quick to believe the city of Detroit wouldn’t cover Echo’s bills. The corruption, the dysfunction, the headlines over the years... it’s made everyone expect the worst. But that’s exactly why this kind of thing is so damaging. When you make false claims and refuse to walk them back, you’re not just throwing the city under the bus—you’re deepening the distrust people already feel. And that’s not just irresponsible. That’s cruel.

I didn’t say anything to start drama. I spoke up because it mattered. People were being misled. And continuing to collect donations using Echo’s story—after knowing her vet bills were already paid—is complete bullshit.

I’ve spent the last few years rebuilding my life, learning how to stand up for what’s right—even when it’s uncomfortable. This is one of those moments. And yeah, it sucks to get shut out. But I’d rather be blocked than complicit.

Silence might be easier, but integrity is louder.

But that’s not the first time I’ve been shut out for speaking up.

After three years of showing up, doing my job, staying consistent, and keeping my head down—I got fired.

Not in a meeting. Not even in a phone call. Just a text.

And here’s the kicker: the manager who wanted me gone—the one who was clearly uncomfortable with me asking questions and pointing out the sketchy stuff—they didn’t even fire me themselves. They had someone else send the message.

Imagine that. The person responsible for my termination didn’t even have the backbone to say the words out loud. After all that time, all that work, they couldn’t look me in the eye. That says everything.

And to be honest? That’s what irritates me the most. Not that I was let go—but how cowardly the whole thing was handled.

Because I didn’t do anything wrong—I spoke up.

When the tip pool numbers didn’t add up—especially when this manager was the one doing the money—I asked why.
When certain people’s shifts started disappearing from the schedule, I pointed it out.
When that same manager kept adding themselves to the schedule as a bartender—conveniently on the busiest days—and started pulling shifts away from other bartenders? I called it out.
And every time they were in the tip pool, it somehow turned into a conversation about how they deserved more—like the rest of us should just be fine taking less so they could take more.

And every time I asked a question, somehow I became the problem.

That’s how it goes in places like this.
Stay quiet, and you’re a “team player.”
Speak up, and suddenly you’re “difficult.”

But the part that really makes this feel calculated? The timing.

Just days before a scheduled meeting with the owner—a meeting we pushed for, to finally get transparency around tip distribution—two of us were fired.

The ones asking questions? Conveniently removed from the room.

And the rest of the team? Still there. Still walking on eggshells.
Still hoping they’re not next.

And the owner? Didn’t ask questions.
Didn’t wonder why two long-time employees were suddenly gone.
Didn’t find the timing strange.

That silence? Says it all.

So no, I’m not sad. I’m irritated.
That a manager can feel threatened by the truth, hide behind someone else to do their dirty work, and walk away like nothing happened.

But if telling the truth gets me fired? Good.

Because I know who I am.
I stood by my team. I did the job right. I said what needed to be said.
And I’ll never stay quiet just to keep a paycheck.

If that makes me a threat—then I’m proud to be one.