I had lunch recently with my favorite person in the office, the Voice of Reason. The Devil inflicts his worst punishments on the Voice of Reason. He squeezes her so hard that a lesser woman would splinter. But the Voice of Reason is too clever. She's a jelly fish, and just oozes out of his fist, ready to fight another day.
Like a jelly fish, the Voice also has stingers. Or perhaps zingers is a better description. She can say things to the Devil that sound respectful and subservient (his favorite demeanor) but are really insults.
The Voice of Reason has an honors degree in management. The Devil prides himself on his inate management skills ("There are some things you just can't learn in college.") The Voice is well-repected by all of her former bosses. The Devil frequently implies that she is stupid. The Voice asked the Devil for permission to attend a two-year certificate program in finance, in lieu of the raise the Devil promised and couldn't deliver (we needed the money for his raise). The Devil acceded (reluctantly) to her request, but schedules deadlines, projects, and meetings for the days the Voice is supposed to be in class.
The Devil continually tells the Voice he can't rely on her. Meanwhile, the only person on staff the Devil thinks is reliable (a man) has called in sick on Monday nine times in the last six months. (Well, I suppose that is reliable, or at least predictable.)
The Voice and I went to lunch to talk about work. We ended up laughing, because what other reaction is there? Are we complicit in the treatment we get at the Devil's hands? Sure, to the extent we still work for him. The Devil is a terrible boss, but he makes a fabulous blog.
Once upon a time, I was young and naive . . .
Like every good fairy tale with a beautiful princess (me) and an evil villain (the Devil), this story begins with a once upon a time.
Once upon a time, I was young and naive. I believed that, while there might be evil people in the world, I wouldn't run in to many of them. Then I met my current boss.
He wasn't even my boss when I met him. He had been lurking for some time in the underbrush at my employer, making other people's lives miserable. My co-workers would complain about him, telling outrageous stories about how difficult he was, what a control freak he could be, how he would make a simple meeting scheduled to last for thirty minutes into a half-day of mindless droning interspersed with fiery ranting. I would laugh and laugh. I thought: What whiners. What babies. He can't be that bad.
Then the ax fell on my wonderful, understanding, hardworking boss, and the Devil showed up, throwing away her potted plants and shredding anything that looked like it might complicate his job. Of course, he didn't really know how things worked, so he turned to me. He promised me pretty things, like a promotion and a raise, a title, an office, and my own secretary, if I could help him make sense of his new responsibilities. I was already in a weakened condition, because I missed my old boss. So I took his proferred apple, and became Eve, fallen from grace and ensnared by the Devil.
I've had 2500 days with the Devil. That's 26o work days a year, for 11+ years. For each year, subtract 1 actual sick day and 9 mental health days [110], three weeks of vacation [165], and 8 holidays (New Year's Day, Presidents' Day, Memorial Day, July 4, Labor Day, Thanksgiving (2 days), and Christmas) [88], and you get 2500 days.
Of course, if this really were a fairy tale, there would be a tidy little ending where the Devil would get his comeuppance and I (or at least someone) would get to live happily ever after. I'm working on it, believe me. But in the meantime, misery loves company. So meet the Devil. You're gonna love working for him.
Once upon a time, I was young and naive. I believed that, while there might be evil people in the world, I wouldn't run in to many of them. Then I met my current boss.
He wasn't even my boss when I met him. He had been lurking for some time in the underbrush at my employer, making other people's lives miserable. My co-workers would complain about him, telling outrageous stories about how difficult he was, what a control freak he could be, how he would make a simple meeting scheduled to last for thirty minutes into a half-day of mindless droning interspersed with fiery ranting. I would laugh and laugh. I thought: What whiners. What babies. He can't be that bad.
Then the ax fell on my wonderful, understanding, hardworking boss, and the Devil showed up, throwing away her potted plants and shredding anything that looked like it might complicate his job. Of course, he didn't really know how things worked, so he turned to me. He promised me pretty things, like a promotion and a raise, a title, an office, and my own secretary, if I could help him make sense of his new responsibilities. I was already in a weakened condition, because I missed my old boss. So I took his proferred apple, and became Eve, fallen from grace and ensnared by the Devil.
I've had 2500 days with the Devil. That's 26o work days a year, for 11+ years. For each year, subtract 1 actual sick day and 9 mental health days [110], three weeks of vacation [165], and 8 holidays (New Year's Day, Presidents' Day, Memorial Day, July 4, Labor Day, Thanksgiving (2 days), and Christmas) [88], and you get 2500 days.
Of course, if this really were a fairy tale, there would be a tidy little ending where the Devil would get his comeuppance and I (or at least someone) would get to live happily ever after. I'm working on it, believe me. But in the meantime, misery loves company. So meet the Devil. You're gonna love working for him.
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