I like to think I'm impervious to the storm of insanity that comes before the tornado of upper management, and for the most part I am.
I am the lone tree standing stoically in the face of gas, spittle, and most bodily functions, but not this one time.
This one time I almost broke and committed bossacide.
This particular manager was slightly anal-retentive. That is, if you define anal retentive as having a stick shoved so far up your ass that you could use it as a tooth pick...
There was a procedure for EVERYTHING. There was even a procedure on PROCEDURES. Yes...the only thing they didn't have a procedure in writing for was taking a crap...and believe me, it was closely monitored anyways.
For every letter written, I had to make sure the margins were exact, font only the correct size and type. Can't fit the letter onto one page at 12 pt? Too damn bad, go to two pages, even if it's one line on the second damn page.
Letter after letter I brought forward only to have it dissected for a word here or a punctuation there. Little notes adorned my submissions. They glared at me from yellow stickies, heckling my latest attempt at perfection. Stapled to the letters would always be a printed copy of The Procedure, because of course I must have forgotten; how else could I explain my gross lack of detail.
If I hadn't made a mistake..a mistake would be found anyways..If it was only use, "wouldn't" instead of "would not".
"This is a informal letter KaraMiaaaa" she would drawl out in slyly insulting tones. "'Would not' is much to formal" she would inform me, the fires of hell glinting in her eyes.
Day in and day out I corrected items that were never incorrect. I reprinted because of imaginary smudges and spaces that did not exist. So I spaced and entered and broke "The Procedure" time and again because she needed to make me redo it...no matter what.
This particular Monday I was feeling pretty safe. I hadn't been called on display for public humiliation in quite some time. I had my letter, read it over several times, gave to my coworker to read it over, grabbed random English teachers off the streets to look it over...everything was golden.
I put the letter into the red folder (via proceeedureeeee) and put it in her inbox expecting a pat on the back, a "good job"...anything. Because after all..it was perfect.
Later that afternoon I get called into her office.
'Here it comes' I think, she is finally going to have to tell me how great a job I did. I could feel the glee building in my chest.
There's no backing out of this one, the president himself would look at this letter lovingly and caress it's flowing pages of perfection in envy. Yes...this is my moment. I almost skipped into her office.
"Karamiaaaaaa" she drawls. "Doesn't The Procedure state the proper margins of our letters?"
"yes" I reply confused.
I'm sorry, but didn't she get the memo? This letter was Perfect...with a capitol "P".
"Well, I must say the left margin looks slightly off."
I glance at the letter and see nothing. It's not off...but she's off her ever loving rocker!
"I'm sorry but I don't see it" is my reply.
"Look here" she says as she points out the line of the left margin and the end of the letterhead with fingernails sharpened to red tipped daggers.
It's a smidgen off...If you're a broom stick wearing managerial type with visions of leading the hoards of hell that is.
"I'm not sure why" I reply, "it's definitely the correct margin."
"Oh really" she responds, "well let's just check" as she pulls a ruler out of her pocket.
My eyes widen. 'Hell no! She did not just pull out a ruler to check my margin!' I say to myself. I'm so pissed at this point that the proverbial steam is not only coming out of my ears but I imagine my eyeballs have turned red as the hair all over my body stood to attention awaiting the oncoming explosion.
She lays the ruler alongside my margin and makes 'tsk tsk' sounds as her actions reduce my pride to mince meat. "Well, it does seem to be correct" she says with a sniff. "I can't imagine why this is off."
"Maybe the printer is off for some reason" I say, desperately throwing someone else under the steam roller that is my manager.
"Yesssss" she says sibilantly, "Bring me the I.T. man at ONCE" she demands, turning back to her desk, subsequently dismissing me.
I notice the ruler laying on the ground behind her. Bending down to pick it up, I toss it from one hand to the other, thinking of the proper procedure would be for optimum placement of this particular ruler.
smacking the ruler against the palm of my hand, I back away from her desk and smile. It would take her a long time to get the splinters out of where I intended to put this ruler. I rushed back to my desk to right the proper procedure for splinter removal.
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had this to say:
OMG, I don't know how you survived. I would have committed bossacide.
I may just yet. Mine was being his usual stupid self and completely blanking on how to read his own. fucking. budget. I mean seriously...how hard is it to read something you have been looking at each year for the past 15 years?- 12:46 PM, November 30, 2006
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Carrie had this to say:
Oh hell no! Her name wouldn't happen to be Jane is it? I worked for a little place and had a boss similiar. I ended up writing her off for not having sex all her life.
- 2:04 PM, November 30, 2006
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Keshi had this to say:
LOL @bossacide!
U know girl..I could say Im very lucky that I never ever had a boss like this. The bosses I have come across r gems.
:)
Keshi.- 3:13 PM, November 30, 2006
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had this to say:
Probably a good career move, your measured response.
:-O- 7:39 PM, November 30, 2006
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had this to say:
OMG! You need to put rat poison in her coffee, just like in the movie 9 to 5. ;)
- 7:55 PM, November 30, 2006
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Red Hot Sexy Papa had this to say:
YOU ARE NOMINATED! Check my blog!
- 6:08 AM, December 01, 2006
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had this to say:
Uh-oh. Is it terrible that I can slightly almost maybe a smidge see myself in your boss? I'm sorry! It's comes with the editorial territory. ;)
- 7:36 AM, December 01, 2006
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had this to say:
Oh gawd. I would have had to kill her. We just had a discussion on one space versus two spaces after a full stop (period). It's one space. Maybe in the archaic typewriter days it was two spaces. But the advent of Word Processing programs and proportional fonts has rendered the second space superfluous. I had to pull out some evidence and body slam the second space.
- 12:41 PM, December 01, 2006
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carmilevy had this to say:
I admire your restraint: I would have tossed her through the window.
I find small-minded morons like this very amusing. I often dream about turning the tables, about judging them instead of them judging us.
In the case of this ex-boss of yours, I think the journalist in me would have had a lovely old time ripping her work to shreds and reducing her psyche to a fraction of its original size.
Damn, I wish I could be a nasty editor more often. Idiot ex-bosses deserve no less!- 3:21 PM, December 01, 2006
