My "Career" ~ Part 11 ~ Breaking The News

I slept approximately one hour that night.

If that.

I had done everything right, and yet, everything had gone horribly wrong. 

My mind churned with questions; theories.  Had I offended someone irretrievably?  Was I perhaps too boastful about my department's achievements?  I knew I had never actually boasted, but maybe just our "being" had rubbed someone the wrong way.  Our success.  Maybe we'd shown up somebody who was wont to carry a grudge.

Why?  Why, when we had done so well, were we being scattered to the winds like this?

What about my people?  I'd seen the job ads in the newspaper.  They occupied about one inch's worth of print space. 

How were my folks going to react to the news?  How would I console them?  How would I reassure them?

I should have just stayed up that night.  I should have watched Letterman and then some late-night movie, and just stayed awake, and then, at 6:00 a.m., gotten ready for work. 

As it was, I tortured myself all night.  Until I drifted off, mere minutes before my alarm began beeping.

I had already determined that I was not going to attend the weekly strategy session.  Fire me!  Oh, that's right; you were going to do that anyway.

So, I showed up in my office at the usual time, and I just sat there.  I didn't know what to do.  Or why I should actually do anything.  So, I sat, and I mindlessly managed to complete my daily work chores.  And I sat.      

Peter strolled in around 8:00 a.m., and he gingerly eased into my visitor's chair and asked, "Why aren't you at the weekly meeting?"  And I said, "Why bother?"

He mumbled something about "appearances", and I just waved him off.  Like one would wave off a blithering idiot.

I was done with Peter now.  The tables had turned.  I understood that as long as my department remained in existence, I would have to play Peter's game, but I also realized that any consequences I would suffer would be non-binding.  What more could they do to me?

Instinctively, I understood that none of this was Peter's doing, but he was now my scapegoat, and I directed all my animus toward him.  If not him, then who?, was my attitude.  And, in the recesses of my mind, I harbored the thought that Peter could have stopped this, but he didn't.  Logically, I realized that he couldn't have stopped it, but damn, he could have gone to the mat for us, and as far as I knew, he didn't.  He looked out for number one, and as long as he still had a job, all was well in Peter World.

My day supes showed up for the start of their shifts, and I watched them as they settled into their cubes, put their heads down, avoided eye contact with their charges.  I understood exactly what they were feeling.  Soon, individually, they found their way into my office.

"What we're going to do is, we're going to be positive.  Supportive of the company's decision.  But encouraging.  We're going to be there for our folks."

"Prez and Petey can do the announcing and the explaining.  We're there for our people."

"We can do this."

I called Kristen into my office and filled her in on what was going down.  Kristen had been my assistant for three years, and she deserved to be a supervisor, but time had simply run out.  I hadn't chosen others over her; other existing supes had been moved over from Claims into my department.  I should have fought harder at the time, and now it was too late.  I knew I had let her down.

I told Kristen and my supes that we needed to be watchful of people's reactions, and we needed to be there immediately for them.  Be ready with a hug; a few words of encouragement.

It was going to be tough, but I knew my management team, and I knew they could carry through, if only I could set the tone.

And thus, the long announcements began.

I stood in the back of the cafeteria, my supervisors back there with me, and I did a lot of nodding in ascension to whatever blather the prez and Pete were dishing out.  And I watched my folks.  And I stood by the door as they exited out, and put my arm around some, and murmured reassuring words to all.

And then, we did it again.

And again.

And then, it was time to go home, finally.

And I slept soundly that night.  Because my mind and my body just finally gave up the fight.

My "Career" ~ Part 12 ~ Loose Ends

My "Career" ~ Epilogue


Previous Chapters:

My "Career" ~ Part 10 ~ Thank You ~ Goodbye


My "Career" ~ Part 9 ~ A Cold Wind


My "Career ~ Part 8 ~ "Everything's Great!"


My "Career ~ Part 7 ~ Another New Boss?


My "Career" ~ Part 6 ~ "Who Do You Think You Are?"


My "Career" ~ Part 5 ~ Welcome to the I-Land

My "Career" ~ Part 4 ~ Phil


My "Career" ~ Part 3 ~ Karma

My "Career" ~ Part 2 ~ Evil Bosses

My "Career" ~ Chapter One









    

My "Career" ~ Part 10 ~ Thank You ~ Goodbye

The morning after our impromptu dinner, I was scheduled to attend one of those weekly office strategy sessions.

Our new site manager, I'll call him "McCreepy", had sat in my office only the week before, and had said to me, flat out, "I don't know how I can justify your salary".

And I disdained McCreepy for his typical insecurity as a site lead.  Simply because I didn't report to him, he was feeling the need to throw his weight around with me.  I couldn't have cared less.

I wasn't even interested in attending his stupid strategy meetings, so he could include me, or dis-include me.  Whatever made him feel better about himself.  The two that I had attended had just made me angry.  The little small-minded department heads, including Linda, used up what little gumption they had jockeying for McCreepy's attention and approval (and for the prime seating spot at the table), and the one time I was actually asked a question, McC's minions snickered and snorted.  Ahhh, the room reeked of fake superiority.

"Justify my salary."  Asshole.  Oh yea, that's right, McCreepy.  I just sit in my oak-paneled office; interloper that I am, every day, and I do nothing.  Nothing.  I basically listen to the morning show on FM radio, lean back in my chair, stick my feet up on the desk, and call up the facilities guy to complain that my office is too cold.

Oh, wait.  That's you.

So, with McCreepy's immortal words ringing in my ears, I maneuvered my Taurus from the East Forty restaurant back to the office, pushing my sedan forward against that infernal, insistent wind.

Somebody flipped on the lights of the conference room up front, and there, we all took our places.

I  made a point of sitting as far away from Peter as I could.  It was a long conference table, and I sat on the opposite side, and well to the right.  In the darkest corner of the room.

I'd always liked Peter, but now I hated him.  I hated that he kept giving me beseeching looks, even though I refused to make eye contact with him.  And I thought, you weasel.  How dare you?  How dare you lead me on?  Tell me what a great job we were doing?  And now you've flown in on the company jet from PA, and you're going to sit there and let whatever happen, happen?

"The company has decided", the prez finally uttered, "that it would be more efficient (cheaper) to relocate the IKFI operation to Arlington, Texas."

With that, he shuffled some prettily-stapled handouts around to each of us at the table.  As I sat there, dazed.  My mind wasn't able to form any cohesive thoughts, other than, "don't look at anyone", and, "hold it together!"

I honestly remember little of what was said that night, in the dim light of the conference room, as I gazed out upon the nearly empty parking lot, and my sad car parked there in the front.

I have pictures in my mind, but few of the words remain.  Peter, trying fruitlessly to catch my gaze.  Laurel's hand on my arm.  Peg and Tracy and my other supes, eyes downcast. 

"Your department is the best division in the company."

Was it only a scant half hour ago that the prez had said that to us?  Had I imagined it?  Maybe I had wanted to hear that, but he never actually said it.  No, I wasn't delusional.  I wouldn't make up something like that.

Now, he was pointedly asking me, "How many of your people do you think would qualify for other jobs in the company?"

The one and only thing I remember saying that night was, "98 per cent of them!"  And I didn't mean to yell it, but I think I did.

Because I was hurt.  Hurt for my people.  One hundred and fifty people, and five supervisors; none of whom deserved this.
 
Then there was more paper shuffling, and talk of job testing and absorption of staff into other departments.  And I thought about Gaby, who was whip-smart, but was still struggling with the English language; trying hard to assimilate.  What about Gaby?  She had been my first official employee.  Was she going to get a shot at another job in the office, or would she be discarded, because of stupid language barriers?  Gaby had worked her butt off for our department.  Corporate drones can be so cold.

Somebody (Peter?) said that three meetings would be scheduled for the next day.  Meetings with the staff.  We'd pull them into the cafeteria and break the news.  We had two shifts, and limited meeting space, so the three meetings, I suppose, were justifiable.  Stupid, though.  As if the first group wasn't going to run back and tell the second group everything that had transpired.  Oh, sure, they would keep it a secret.  And the second group would not breathe a word to the third.  Because we told them not to.  That's how it works.  In dreamland.

That night, after everything was said that needed to be said, I strode out of that conference room, and I spoke to no one.  No long, loving farewells.  Piss off.  And leave me alone.

I fished around inside my purse for my car keys, unlocked the door, and slid in behind the wheel.

And for some unknown reason, I was paralyzed.

Until the sobs came.

There, in the driver's seat of my white 1987 Ford Taurus, I lay my head against the steering wheel, and sobbed.  Wracking, convulsing sobs.

The passenger door quietly opened, and Laurel slid silently inside.  "Are you okay?", she asked.

I don't know what I said, or if I said anything.  But, at that singular heartbreaking moment,  I was so glad to have a friend.


My "Career" ~ Part 11 ~ Breaking the News

My "Career" ~ Part 12 ~ Loose Ends 

My "Career" ~ Epilogue


Previous Chapters:

My "Career" ~ Part 9 ~ A Cold Wind


My "Career" ~ Part 8 ~ "Everything's Great!"


My "Career" ~ Part 7 ~ Another New Boss?


My "Career" ~ Part 6 ~ "Who Do You Think You Are?"


My "Career" ~ Part 5 ~ Welcome to the I-Land

My "Career" ~ Part 4 ~ Phil


My "Career" ~ Part 3 ~ Karma


My "Career" ~ Part 2 ~ Evil Bosses


My "Career" ~ Chapter One


  

My "Career" ~ Part 9 ~ A Cold Wind

It was one of those ominous days.

Instead of a nice ease-into-spring May day, the wind was howling at 60 miles an hour.  I'd never seen anything quite like it.

My main supervisor, Laurel, had one of her rare days off.  We pitched in and covered for her.  Everybody covered for anyone who had the opportunity to take a day off.  It was the least we could do.  Everyone worked damn hard.

Peter called.  But this time, he sounded strange.  "Hey, we're flying in today."

What?  Just like that?  Flying in today?  

"Can you make reservations at a restaurant?  And make sure all your supervisors are there....and Bonnie from HR."

"Laurel is off?  Well, can you call her at home?  Can she be there?  She really needs to be there."

I called my four supes in.  I told them that their presence was required at a "dinner".  I told them that Bonnie from HR would also be there.

We all glanced around the room at each other.  Somebody made a crack about, "do I have to update my resume?".  We laughed uncomfortably. 

I reached Laurel at home.  She asked what was up.  I said, I don't know, but it doesn't sound good.  Laurel said she'd be there.

I called the East Forty and made a reservation.  The East Forty was the most "upscale" restaurant in our little middle-of-the-prairie town.  Since the president of our division was flying out with Peter, I figured McDonald's drive through would probably not be conducive to whatever conversation was forthcoming (although, in hindsight, the image of the president and Peter in the back of my Ford Taurus, scrunched together with Peg, Cathy, Laurel, Tracy, Lynnette, and Tasha, with Bonnie from HR sitting on Peter's lap, all yelling out their orders of Big Macs and large fries, with a chocolate shake for the prez, makes me feel a whole lot better)

My staff and I were, naturally, the first to arrive at the bistro.  I wore a light spring sweater decorated with blue and yellow flowers.  When I'd purchased it, I thought it was lovely.  Now it seemed hideous.  We sat there in the anteroom, with the fireplace crackling, and we ordered drinks all around, because our mindset was, if this is bad news (which we all knew it was), why not be half slockered?

Again, like earlier in the day, uncomfortable black humor was tossed about.  "I wonder if Target is hiring", somebody said.  "Gee, I hope nothing happens to the plane.  It is pretty windy out there."

When Bonnie from HR showed up, she kind of took a seat unobtrusively, and waited quietly.  We knew that she probably knew something, so we basically gave her the cold shoulder.  Bonnie had always been one to throw her weight around, and make herself feel all warm and fuzzy in her perceived superiority, so we didn't even feel bad ignoring her. We felt entitled, under the circumstances.

Eventually, Peter and the prez alighted upon the lobby.  Peter would not meet my gaze, so I, at that point, just thought, you know what?  The hell with you.  The two drinks I'd had before had bolstered my bravado.  I made the decision then that I would henceforth ignore Peter.

So, there we all sat, at that long dinner table, and we placed our orders with the wait person, and we choked down our fish or prime rib, or whatever we'd blindly managed to order.  If anyone felt comfortable, it was not the six of us.  I think we managed to grunt a response here and there to snippets of awkward conversation.  Mostly, we just fidgeted in our chairs.

And the prez, after everyone had been fed and sated, cleared his throat and announced, "Your division is the best division in the company.  You have exceeded; no, well exceeded everyone's expectations.  Everyone looks to you as the gold standard.  I can't tell you how proud we all are of you and your department."

"Now, let's all go back to the office, shall we?  Let's continue the conversation there."

And the cold wind stirred the crackled leaves past our window.



To be continued.......... 

My "Career" ~ Part 10 ~  Thank You ~ Goodbye

My "Career" ~ Part 11 ~ Breaking the News

My "Career" ~ Part 12 ~ Loose Ends 

My "Career" ~ Epilogue


Previous Chapters:

My "Career" ~ Part  8 ~ "Everything's Great!"

My "Career" ~ Part 7 ~ Another New Boss?

My "Career" ~ Part 6 ~ "Who Do You Think You Are?"

My "Career" ~ Part 5 ~ Welcome to the I-Land

My "Career" ~ Part 4 ~ Phil

My "Career" ~ Part 3 ~ Karma

My "Career" ~ Part 2 ~ Evil Bosses

My "Career" ~ Chapter One









.

My "Career" ~ Part 8 ~ "Everything's Great"

Rumors started buzzing around, and none of us knew for sure, because nobody who was in a position to know would tell us, nor could they tell us, I guess.

I finally, one night, turned my TV to CNBC; the one and only time I ever watched that channel.  A couple of financial guys were speculating about the buyout of our company, but nothing was final yet.

The next morning, as I was getting ready for work, I again flipped on the TV, and there it was.  We were being bought out.  Bought by one of the big boys.

Everybody got a printed memo that day, announcing the merger, and promising that they were going to play by our rules.  That didn't make sense to me, since we were the buy-EES, and they were the buy-ERS.  But I chose to believe that they saw in our company a better way of doing business, and thus, they had seen the light, so to speak.

The first inkling that this was not the case was when our employee insurance coverage changed.  As employees of Acme Insurance Company, we'd had the best coverage ever.  A miniscule copay for any type of service; no deductible.  We could visit our doctor every day, if we'd wanted to, and it was all covered.  The premium was picked up by the company.

No more.  We had to start chipping in for our coverage, and the benefits were much worse.

Not only that, but our stock options were discontinued.  I was so enamored of my company that I'd invested a ton of my 401K dollars into company stock.  (DON'T EVER DO THAT!)

But, other than the insurance coverage, and the dissipation of stock options, our everyday business model didn't change.

Peter was still my boss, and he still was very supportive.  He apologized over and over again for not being able to promote me to manager, even though I was doing a manager's job, and even though I was overseeing five supervisors and more than 150 hourly staff.  And still supervising my own unit; albeit a "cream of the crop" unit; the best of the best.

Even though I was having daily telephone conversations with the gal at Kelly Temp Services; telling her what I needed.  Even though I was scheduling and conducting job interviews twice a week.  Even though I was tutoring my supervisors in the fine art of writing performance reviews.

Even though I was juggling my salary spreadsheet, and ranking employees on a one to five basis, in order to manage salary increases to the unworkable parameters that Peter had set.

Even though Peter damn well knew that I was able to retain staff with negligible turnover because my people liked and respected me, and they knew that I liked and respected them.

Even though I kept having the same conversation over and over with Pat in Allentown, trying to keep my impatience from bubbling over.  Telling myself that eventually she'll "get it".  If I just remain calm and repeat myself a lot, she'll catch on.  She has to.  Doesn't she?

And why in the world did Peter ever choose her in the first place?

Billy Joel kept running through my mind.  I started daydreaming that all the factories in Allentown were being shut down because Pat was running them.  And Pat was an imbecile.



And, despite all the dire news on the corporate front, I believed that everything was still okay.

Things were okay with IKFI.  We were humming and strumming along.  Our numbers, and our outlook, were great.

What could possibly go wrong?

Ominously, unforeseen, a  cold wind was about to blow in.


To be continued...........

My "Career" ~ Part 9 ~ A Cold Wind

My "Career" ~ Part 10 ~  Thank You ~ Goodbye

My "Career" ~ Part 11 ~ Breaking the News

My "Career" ~ Part 12 ~ Loose Ends 

My "Career" ~ Epilogue


Previous Chapters:

My "Career" ~ Part 7 ~ Another New Boss?

My "Career" ~ Part 6 ~ "Who Do You Think You Are?"

My "Career" ~ Part 5 ~ Welcome to the I-Land

My "Career" ~ Part 4 ~ Phil

My "Career" ~ Part 3 ~ Karma

My "Career" ~ Part 2 ~ Evil Bosses

My "Career" ~ Chapter One














 

My "Career" ~ Part 7 ~ Another New Boss?

I will readily admit that I liked having my boss 1,594 miles away.

It's not that we ever tried to hide anything, or misrepresented anything that we were doing.  It was just freeing to not have a boss sitting with his spyglass trained on me every waking hour of the day.

Peter was young (the first boss I ever had who was younger than me), and earnest.  I will give him his due (and later, I will give him his what-for; but that's another discussion).  He was a good boss.

Peter was all about incentivizing people.  That was important, in our biz.  Our people didn't get paid a lot, and the work was tedious.  We needed to give them a reason to hang in there (aside from the fun).

 Fun.

And he, rightly, understood that he also needed to incentivize me.  I was doing a manager's job on a supervisor's pay.  And I was basically turning over my life to my job and to the company.

One of our first telephone conversations involved the logistics of where I was to put all the additional supervisors.  We had two supervisor cubicles; one in the front of the unit, and one in the back.  I had five supervisors!  Two cubicles were fine, if we were only talking about the day shift and the second shift, but things were getting a bit cramped, and sharing cubes was sort of like the Warner Brothers cartoon of the wolf and the sheepdog, Sam and Ralph, punching in and punching out.

Peter said to me, well, what about that empty office back there in the corner?  I said, an office?  I'd never had an office before.  Nobody's using it, he said.  It's dark.  The light's never been turned on.  You should just move in.

Really?  I could do that?  Why not, he replied.  I said, I think that's not going to go over well.  "Just do it.  Move in."

So I did.

And it did not go over well.  I'd had a manager, Linda, before I'd made the transition from Claims.  Linda was Phil's lackey.  She occupied the office next door to him.  The contempt she felt for Phil dripped like tears of leather and acid.  But at least bleached-blonde, perfectly-coiffed Linda had an office!  That was her one consolation, seeing as how she had to play go-fer to Phil.

Now I had an office just like hers!

 Dennis, Lynnette, and Peg ~ "decorating" my office for my birthday.  Grrr!!

The first time she walked past that suddenly brightly-lit room, she actually did a double-take.  She was walking, and then she stopped walking, and then she began backtracking, until she backed over to my doorway, and said...."Congratulations?"

Ooh, Linda was not happy.  And I didn't have to report to Linda anymore, so I waved to her, sweetly, and replied, "Thanks!"  And then Linda fumbled a bit for words, and managed to propel herself forward again, on down the walkway to her own, identical, office....leaving trails of angry smoke in her wake.

Thank you, Peter.

Peter was also generous with the Super Saturday budget ("Hat Day", to us in the know).  He'd give us $300.00, and my main supervisor, Laurel, and I would head out and do some serious shopping, and buy enough nice prizes as we could with our allotment.

 My "main" supe ~ Laurel ~ decorating one of the other supe's cubes for her birthday

Oh sure, Peter would call once a day.  That was what a good manager should do.  Sometimes he would initiate conference calls, so I would make sure all my supervisors were in attendance, there in my office, and I'd put Peter on speaker phone, and the five of us were free to roll our eyes as much as we needed to, and to silently mouth replies to one another, and to stifle a giggle or two, but overall, we were respectful, because we respected him (at the time).

And our IKFI units kept right on producing.   The year after the "Hee Haw Halloween", I believe I made a promise to the staff that if they exceeded their goal, a famous singing duo would stop by and do a song for them.  They hit it out of the park, naturally.

So, along came Sonny & Cher:

Everyone remarked that I looked so much like Phil, with that mustache.

And we serenaded them with, "I Got You, Babe", although I somehow sounded more like Bob Dylan than Sonny Bono.

Our little department became such a success that it was determined that the company would try to replicate that achievement, in other locales.  A division was started in Allentown, PA, and later, one in Blue Bell, PA ("Blue Bell" ~ doesn't that sound pretty?).  I patiently schooled the new supervisors of those divisions in the workings of the IKFI Department.  I had, after all, authored the training manual, and I had developed the performance standards.

I took endless calls from the dolt, Pat, who was in charge of the Allentown office.  I became concerned that she didn't seem to understand things, since she asked me the same questions over and over, but I exercised patience, and I was blindly confident that she would eventually catch on.  I tutored the Blue Bell guy, as well.  Daily.

As a respite from the constant telephone irritation, the IKFI Department decided that we should hold our first annual (and, as it turned out, one and only) picnic.  We didn't rely on Peter, this time, to furnish us with an operating budget.  We financed it all on our own, and we solicited local businesses to donate door prizes.  Somewhere along the line, it was determined that we would have a Hawaiian theme (I think because the Oriental Trading Company catalog was featuring cheap party favors, including straw beachcomber hats).  We had volleyball, and face painting for the kids, and we offered the opportunity for everyone to have their "official" picture taken next to the surfboard, which had the welcoming logo, "You're Next", printed on it.

Official IKFI Party Planning Committee

Meanwhile, we were aware that Halloween 1998 was rapidly approaching.  I had become enamored of the movie, "Grease", so I suggested that we do a Grease theme for our contribution to the annual rite of October.

Once again, we outdid ourselves.  One of our people was a good graphic artist, so she created some signage, replicating the Grease logo.  We also designed one of those "test your strength"  hammer games, and we had numerous Grease carnival midway attractions.

 Dennis and Gaby (or "Gabby", as Phil would say.)

A bunch of us corralled one of our employee's daughters into showing us some moves for the song, "We Go Together", which she had at one time performed with her dance troupe, so she stopped by and tutored us in the proper moves, and we spent a few hours practicing our routine in my....nice, shiny....office.

 We were ready.

One of my supervisors, Lynnette, was designated to be "Frenchy", so I bought a can of pink spray-on hair coloring, and proceeded to spray her blonde hair pink.  She looked beautiful when I was done.

 Lynnette ("Frenchy") and Laurel ("Sandy")

I, as was my wont, was Danny Zuko, and my main supervisor, Laurel, was Sandy.   We, too, had our gangs.  Another brave lady, she, too, with short hair, became my Kinickie, and we also had Jan and Marty, and the whole crew.

 The T-Birds

When the judges made their way to our little corner of the world, we switched on a boom box recording of "We Go Together", and proceeded to dazzle them with our tightly-rehearsed moves.

During the instrumental break in the song, we actually grabbed hands with the various judges and performed a jitterbug with them.  Getting the judges involved in the action was....gold!

At the end of the song, everybody in our troupe boogied on down the aisle and were handed their yearbooks at the end of the line, and danced on off, just like in the movie.

It was spectacular.

People still talk about it to this day. 

Once again, we blew everybody away.  Over on the other side of the building, the self-insured employees did a "Titanic" theme.  But all they stupidly did was stand there stupidly in front of their cardboard boats.  Where was the dazzle in that?  They took second place (a "pity" designation, I have no doubt).

And, meanwhile, back in IKFI,  all the people loved us, and hated us.  But we got the trophy, so la dee DAH!

Alas, however, while we were savoring the good times, we had no clue about the bad times to come.


To be continued......

My "Career" ~ Part  8 ~ "Everything's Great!"

My "Career" ~ Part 9 ~ A Cold Wind

My "Career" ~ Part 10 ~  Thank You ~ Goodbye


My "Career" ~ Part 11 ~ Breaking the News

My "Career" ~ Part 12 ~ Loose Ends 

My "Career" ~ Epilogue



Previous Chapters:

My "Career" ~ Part 6 ~ Who Do You Think You Are?

My "Career" ~ Part 5 ~ Welcome to the I-Land

My "Career" ~ Part 4 ~ Phil

My "Career" ~ Part 3 ~ Karma

My "Career" ~ Part 2 ~ Evil Bosses

My "Career ~ Chapter One

My "Career" ~ Part 6 ~ "Who Do You Think You Are?"

The IKFI unit was an outcast.

We weren't "Claims", after all.  But we shared the same floor as Claims, albeit with our own entrance that no one from the Claims Department deigned to use, because, after all, that would taint them.

There is an inherent snobbery that exists in any office.  A pecking order.  "We're better than....(insert department name here)."

We weren't "smart" like Claims.  We did data entry.  Some of the Claims supervisors even stopped by from time to time to let me know what my division was doing wrong, since they, naturally, were the end users.  I didn't have a problem with that; I did have a problem with the way the feedback was conveyed.  The condescension.

So, even though I had been a top Claims supervisor before my promotion, I was no longer part of the clique.

So, IKFI just went its own way.

We kept growing, and growing rapidly.  We had to take over more office footage, because we were running out of room to seat everyone.  We still had that mix of permanent employees and temps, but by this point, it was understood that a temp position was an audition, really, for permanent placement.  A top performer was guaranteed the opportunity to be hired by the company, and that word had gotten around.

Our first Halloween rolled around, and we, naturally, were delighted to participate in the festivities.

You see, at our office, a tradition had been born back in the first year of our existence.  I don't know exactly how it started, but I do know that I was part of its inception.

We dressed up, as a unit, generally, in some type of theme.  That sounds innocuous enough, but what began as a simple dress-up contest with silly prizes, quickly snowballed into an all-out competition.  Quickly, after that, it was not good enough to simply dress up.  A group had to put on a "skit" of some sort; really wow the crowd...and especially the judges.

Oh, it became cutthroat.  

It started like this:

And progressed to this:

And on and on.

Since the IKFI people were considered morons and imbeciles, we decided to do a "Hee Haw" theme.  It was wonderful.  We had a lady dressed up as Minnie Pearl, with the price tag hanging from her flowered hat.  We had all manner of rubes, especially me; we had a woman in her flannel nightgown and nightcap, ironing at her ironing board.  We even had a cow.

 That's me in my "cap".

My mentor, Carlene, and me (I looked lovely!)

Oh, we were all lovely hayseeds. 

Unfortunately, we were encroaching, it seems, upon a time-honored tradition; and when we won grand prize, well, that just capped it.

It was not our fault that the Claims units were lame.  They were timid.  We were not.  We had no reputation to uphold.  We didn't care.

As time passed, and things started to snowball, I was given the green light to hire additional supervisors.  We split into three units!  And then we hired a second shift!  Two more supervisors!  All total, by the end, we had over 150 people in IKFI.....from three to one hundred and fifty.  In about a year and a half.

The girl who was to become my "main supervisor", Laurel, had started out as an examiner in one of my Claims units.  We found that we shared the same birthday, so that became a natural bond, a starting point for our relationship.  When the opportunity arose to hire another supervisor, Laurel applied, and I took her immediately.  Laurel was one of those people whom you feel like you've known all your life, even if you've only known her for a minute.  She had that special touch. 

Laurel became situated in a glass-walled supervisor cubicle halfway across the room from me.  We could look out and wave to each other, but other communication required direct face-to-face interaction, or a phone call.

By this time, Phil had been "uploaded" to a more responsible position in Fresno, California, proving that it's not what you know; it's who you know.  His replacement was Brenda, who'd been moved upstairs from the Customer Service Department.  Brenda, in essence, shared manager responsibilities with the lovely (to herself) blonde-haired Linda, who was persnickety and decorum-obsessed.  Both Linda and Brenda elevated their secretary, Lisa, to the highest level on the office pedestal.  Lisa was, for all intents and purposes, third in line of ascension to the Acme throne; well above us mere supervisors. 

Some supervisors dealt with that insult by cultivating Lisa's friendship.  Laurel and I, on the other hand, dealt with it by being snarky at every turn.

One day, Brenda sent out a loving email to all the supervisors, informing us that Lisa had been blessed with additional responsibilities.  The email told of how indespensable Lisa was; what a vital wheel of the organization she had proven to be.

TIP:  If you are going to make snarky remarks about an email sent by, ostensibly your boss, be sure to hit "forward", and not "reply".

I don't remember exactly what I said, but it wasn't nice.  My intention was to forward my comments to Laurel, across the way; but I, as you have gathered by now, hit "reply" instead.

You know that moment?  When you realize you just made a giant faux pas?  And it's already been done, and now what the hell are you going to do?  Well, I did that.  One second after I "replied" with my remarks, it hit me that I had screwed up, badly.

Damn.  Here I go again.  Another apology, and I knew I had to give it in person.  Downtrodden, I willed my legs to propel themselves forward, onward to Brenda's office.  I blindly, instinctively, found a chair to plop my ass in, and proceeded to praise Lisa to the heavens.  I mumbled something about how I was "just kidding around", and how I was profusely sorry for my indescretion, and that, trust me, it would never happen again.

Brenda was, to her credit, pretty nice about it.  She kind of waved me off; said, don't worry about it.  She was most likely as uncomfortable, there, in her office, having this conversation, as I was. 

But, as my luck would go, this didn't end there.  Just a few short months later, my number one supervisor, Laurel, committed the exact same sin as I had.  Another glowing email; another snarky comment; another "reply", rather than "forward". 

Laurel was cool about it, though.  She blithely trudged into Brenda's office (I bet Brenda was getting weary of this drill by now), spilled out her requistite apology, and, as icing on the cake, said, "I guess I pulled a 'Shelly'". 

Thanks, pal!  Now I was famous infamous.  Any stupid, assinine mistake would henceforth be referred to as, "pulling a 'Shelly'". 

Even though Laurel blatantly threw me under the bus, I couldn't not stay friends with her.

Plus, I guess, one way to look at it was, we were in this thing together.  We made the same mistakes, we made the same right decisions.  We were a natural team.

And thus, IKFI continued to do things that annoyed the heck out of everyone.

Overtime was a way of life at our company.  If there was ever a stretch when overtime was not mandatory, people began to quake.  They started wondering what was wrong.  Thankfully, for most, those periods only ever happened for a week or two, and then things returned to "normal".  Frankly, the staff had begun to depend on their overtime pay, and they were adrift without it.

On Saturdays, we, like everyone else, had OT.  But we did things a bit differently in our department.  We had a (remote!) manager who gave us a budget to buy prizes, so the supes would go out shopping and buy as many nice things as we could with the dollars we were given.

Then, on Saturday, every half hour or so, we would draw a name out of the hat (literally, a hat), and blow some god-awful sounding horn, and bestow a prize upon some lucky individual, and of course, have our picture taken with the winner; all of us supes wearing our very special hats.........Yes, it was "hat day".

 Tracy on "Hat Day"

I can say without hesitation that we had fun.  And yet, we never shirked our work.  We posted great stats; both quality and production.  I believe it was because our people liked their jobs.

Who else had Elvis show up for my supe, Peg's, birthday?  Nobody, of course.  And, if anyone had even thought of it, would they think to corral an actual employee to play Elvis?  No.  They would have hired one of those impersonators.  And that would have stripped the occasion of all the fun (thanks, Rob!)

 Elvis (Rob) and Peg

And on Peg's next birthday, who would have thought to have President Clinton stop by?  Nobody.  And who would have written a very special speech for the President to deliver to Peg?  Nobody.  (Thanks, Rob, again, for portraying the President!)

 President Clinton (Rob) and Secret Service Agent, Laurel

Shortly after the "hat days", the baton was passed, back there in Philly, to a new manager; a new overseer of the IKFI Department.

A new, young up-and-comer.  Out to prove himself, with our division as the catalyst.

His name was Peter.


To be continued.......... 

My "Career" ~ Part 7 ~ Another New Boss?

My "Career" ~ Part  8 ~ "Everything's Great!"

My "Career" ~ Part 9 ~ A Cold Wind

My "Career" ~ Part 10 ~  Thank You ~ Goodbye

My "Career" ~ Part 11 ~ Breaking the News 

My "Career" ~ Part 12 ~ Loose Ends 

My "Career" ~ Epilogue


Previous Chapters:

My "Career" ~ Part 5 ~ Welcome to the I-Land

My "Career" ~ Part 4 ~ Phil

My "Career" ~ Part 3 ~ Karma

My "Career" ~ Part 2 ~ Evil Bosses

My "Career" ~ Chapter 1

My "Career" ~ Part 5 ~ Welcome to the I-Land

Three people.

That's how my new department began.  Well, four, if you count me.

The office facilities guy had dusted off a dank corner of the building, an area that had been used to pile broken-down computers and various unwanted office furniture.

He had assembled a glass-walled cubicle in the front of the room, and from there I sat and gazed out upon....my three employees.

They weren't even actual employees; they were temps.  I was yet to be convinced that the company had the utmost faith in this new enterprise.

Somebody from the home office in Philadelphia flew out to show me how to use my new software; how to view the inventory and the real-time production stats; and to show the four of us what the hell we were supposed to be doing.

Bugs in the system?  Perish the thought!  There were nothing but bugs in the system for....oh, I'll say...about a year.  Thus, the majority of my eight-to-nine-hour days were spent on the phone to IS in Pennsylvania.  I got to know those two IS guys really well, although our conversations weren't exactly uplifting.

ME:  The system seems to be frozen again.

IS GUY:  (sigh)

My three temps were real troopers, though.  They put up with all the starts and stops and they diligently logged every error that popped up, and they tracked their downtime, which was most of the day.

We bonded.  We were there alone on that island, the one that no one dare visit, except, of course, for Phil.

For Phil, having another place to wander off to, was a dream come true.  He could only hide out in the men's room for so long, after all.  So, when he wanted to disappear, he stopped by and visited with us.  No one would think to look for him there, if anyone actually was ever looking for him, which they weren't.

One of my three girls was Gaby.  She was a German emigrant, and smart and sassy.  Phil kept calling her "Gabby".  She'd correct him every time.  "It's GAH-bee".  And every single time, Phil would say, "Oh, I thought it was 'Gabby'; like Gabby Hayes."  She would just stare at him like he was insane, and then look at me with eyebrows raised, silently imploring, "Who the hell is Gabby Hayes?"

The most unfortunate aspect of all the system downtime was that I was never able to shoo Phil away on the pretext that I was "busy".  Because I was never busy.  Unless I was on the phone to IS.  So, Phil would just sit there, and drone on and on about Omaha (no offense to anyone from Omaha, but I've driven through Nebraska.  It ranks right up there with the most boring landscapes on the face of the earth; and I'm from North Dakota!)

Eventually, though, the bugs got worked out enough so that we were able to bring on more temps.  (The company still didn't want to take that last step of actually hiring anyone).  

We got quite the unit going after a time.  We had about 17 people within a few months.  And once the system actually started working semi-regularly, it snowballed.  Our company was huge, and we were entering claims for every office in the country.  We kept having to add people.

And the facilities guy had to set up more cubes to accommodate more people, and he had to find someplace else to throw the musty furniture castoffs.  We began to take over!  At least the unused space, that is.

And the company finally said, hey, let's hire some of these guys.  Gaby was my first official employee.

Remember Dave?  Dave, who saved me from the evil Connie?  Dave was the brains behind the IKFI outfit.  He had his minion in Philadelphia who functioned as the titular head of the operation, but she answered to Dave, like we all did.  And this project was Dave's baby, so he remained actively involved.

Dave would call me from time to time and yell at me for something or other.  Normally, that would stress the hell out of me.  But I don't know how I knew, but I instinctively did, that Dave was testing me.  He wanted to see if I would crumble.  I just didn't.  But to be frank, I couldn't have possibly been doing anything wrong, because nobody knew what was going on anyway, and we were just making it up as we went along, so I wasn't fazed by the yelling.

During one of those yelling sessions, I sort of raised my voice, too, which is something I never do!  And Dave's response was a soft chuckle.  So, then I knew for sure.  Bastard.  And I say that in a fond way.  Phil always shook in his boots whenever Dave would call and harangue him.  I, however, caught on to the game.  I liked Dave.  He expected a lot out of his people, but the one thing he hated was for people to back down.

Things progressed to the point that I had to have an assistant.  I did get to take a day off here and there, and somebody had to be around to monitor the "stats", and to put people into different queues when the workload required it.  I didn't have the option to hire an actual assistant, so I made Kristen an unofficial one.  She was smart.  She had no business doing data entry, which is a fine occupation; don't get me wrong, but people should live up to their potential.

So, Kristen handled things for me when I was away, and when I finally got the go-ahead to hire an assistant, well, guess who?

I essentially found myself playing mother hen to all my chicklings.  Jobs were scarce in my town, so people took jobs that were beneath their skill set.  I set about instilling some self-esteem in them.

After about a year, I still was working with a mix of regular employees and temps.  Whenever Dave would give the go-ahead to do more hiring, I would gently nudge certain people to apply.  One of my temps, Jessie, was an awesome producer.  Far and away the best in both production and quality.  And it frustrated the hell out of me that whenever a job opening came along, she wouldn't apply.

I pestered Jessie a lot about that, and she always brushed me off.  Then, one day, she came into my cubicle and sat down, and was silent for a good long while.  Finally, she said, "I can't apply.   When I was sixteen, I worked in a convenience store, and I stupidly, stupidly stole some money out of the til.  I have a record.  I can never apply."

After she went back to her desk, I picked up the phone and called the HR lady.  I asked, what would it take to get Jessie hired?  HR Lady said, write a letter; lay out your reasons for wanting to hire her, and you have to VOUCH for her.

So, I did.  Jessie got the job.

Everybody there had a story.  And little by little, they all found reasons to love the IKFI island.

Of course, this love did not sit well with the Claims folks...........


to be continued......

My "Career" ~ Part 6 ~ "Who Do You Think You Are?"

My "Career" ~ Part 7 ~ Another New Boss?

My "Career" ~ Part  8 ~ "Everything's Great!"

My "Career" ~ Part 9 ~ A Cold Wind

My "Career" ~ Part 10 ~  Thank You ~ Goodbye

My "Career" ~ Part 11 ~ Breaking the News 

My "Career" ~ Part 12 ~ Loose Ends 

My "Career" ~ Epilogue




Previous Chapters:


My "Career" ~ Part 4 ~ Phil


My "Career" ~ Part 3 ~ Karma


My "Career" ~ Part 2 ~ Evil Bosses

My "Career" ~ Chapter 1

My "Career" ~ Part 4 ~ Phil

(Scary in its familiarity)

With Connie gone, we were rudderless.  That's just silly, really, because Connie was a bust at being a rudder, except for those minions who constantly found excuses to stroll into her office and ask for her "advice".

The regional VP (again, we'll call him "Charles", since I can't remember his name) took over the sad task of supervising the supervisors.

I remember one early meeting with him, in which he expressed the sentiment, "I can't believe you guys don't already know this". 

Charles did send us off to learn how to use personal computers.  Up until that time, we didn't have computers (computers??).  We had CRT's.  CRT's did nothing except the very explicit task of allowing us to process claims.  I'm surprised, in retrospect, that the supervisors didn't have typewriters in their little glass-encased coffins. 

I knew nothing about personal computers, naturally.  I sat in that class, and dragged the mouse as far along that long table as it could possibly go, because I couldn't get the stupid pointer to point to the stupid thing that I wanted it to point to.  The instructor finally noticed my contortions, and said, "pick up the mouse (dummy)".  And everybody laughed and laughed, but I bet they didn't know that, either.

Then, one day, it was announced to us that a new manager would be joining our "team" (I always hated the term, "team", because that made it sound like we were all in it together, when, in fact, we were all in it to slash each others' throats, to be frank).

Phil had apparently once worked with our (at least my) guru, Dave, in Omaha, Nebraska.  What a smart man like Dave ever saw in a dolt like Phil remains one of life's mysteries.  Phil was a moron; scratch that ~ a lazy moron.

Phil got himself all situated in Connie's former office, and proceeded to thumb through his stack of women's magazines, prop his feet up on the desk, and promptly fall asleep.

Needless to say, we didn't have any respect for Phil.  At least those of us who were not consumed with kissing anyone and everyone's ass (LeeAnn).

Anytime that Phil woke up, he'd take a stroll around the office and see which supervisor he could offend. 

He'd sit in the extra chair inside the given supervisor's glass-walled cubicle and regale his hostage with tales of his glory days at Mutual of Omaha (wasn't that the company that sponsored that "Wild Kingdom" series, with Marlin Perkins, who always sent his assistant, Jim, out on the really dangerous assignments, while Marlin sat back in the studio and lisped his way through the narration?  Yea, that's the one).  I bet all the Mutual of Omaha guys talked that up a lot at every client meeting.  "We have Marlin Perkins, you know!"

With the supervisors he really liked, Phil would regale them with tales of the sex-capades that he and his wife had had the night before.  Phil was a geek, so picturing him as a sex God was nearly impossible.   Luckily, I was spared the details of Phil's extracurricular activities.  But, of course, like anything and everything that happens in an office, I heard about it secondhand.

Phil was big on grand pronouncements.  Once a month, he'd gather the entire staff together in an open space, ostensibly to announce the latest quality results, but in actuality, to pump himself up to the group.  "Three years ago, before I came here, you guys were nothing.  Nothing!  Now just look at you."  And we'd all look around at each other and roll our eyes, and think, yea, we were drooling idiots before you got here, Phil.  We could barely manage to write our own names.

Unlike the majority of the supervisors, I, unfortunately, did not suffer fools gladly.  Oh sure, I tried to stay awake whenever Phil chose to sit in my extra chair and impart his MOA wisdom.  But when he started pulling the, "you would be nothing without me" business, I admit; I bristled.

We used to have competitions from time to time; the kind of thing where one unit is pitted against another, to achieve some kind of production goal.  Because where would this world be, really, without a seething hatred for anyone who was perceived as a competitor?

During one of these exercises, my group (naturally) kicked ass.  But in order to spoil my pride in my group's accomplishment, Phil lolled on over to me and pronounced, "Your people are always the first ones to leave at the end of the day."

Something snapped in me, and I whirled around from the white board that I was erasing, and hissed, "My people work their asses off, and you damn well know it!"

Red-faced, Phil slithered away.  And I thought, ohhh shit, I'm in trouble now.

I didn't see Phil for awhile after that.  He visited other supervisors, but he avoided me.

Eventually, we had another one of those musical chairs supervisor/unit moves, that had absolutely no purpose, in which everybody had to pick up, pack up, and move to another location on the floor.  In essence, switch places with somebody else.  I never quite understood the reasoning, but because we'd done it so many times, I didn't question it.  I just packed up like everybody else, and moved.

Luckily (?) for me, my unit ended up situated right outside Phil's office.

I used to go around every day, from person to person, and answer my staff's processing questions.  The skirts we wore then were short, and Phil would stand in his doorway and ogle me, and make inappropriate remarks, which I pretended that I didn't hear, but I would surreptitiously roll my eyes at the person I happened to be assisting at the time.  All of shared a common loathing of Phil.

Out of the blue one day, Phil peeked around the corner and summoned me into his office.  He said that there was a new project upcoming (brand new!).  A new department, really.  Part of Claims, and yet not part of Claims.  It was data entry.  Phil said that "he" had chosen me to head it up (BS ~ "he" didn't have the power to make any decisions).  Phil said that this was a pilot program for the entire company, of which we were but a tiny satellite office.  I think I asked, why me?  I felt like I was being punished.  It felt like a giant step backwards.  I had gained a lot of claims knowledge, and now I was being asked to throw that all away?

I said, "Can I think about it?"

Phil said, "Sure".  "Think about it overnight".  "Then come back and tell me, yes."

Thus, I had no choice.  I felt like a loser.  Like all my peers would snicker about me behind my back.

I came back the next day and told Phil, "yes", like I had been instructed to do.

And I bid adieu to my staff and to the world of claims.

And I had absolutely no idea what was in store for me.



To be continued........

My "Career" ~ Part 5 ~ Welcome to the I-Land

My "Career" ~ Part 6 ~ "Who Do You Think You Are?"

My "Career" ~ Part 7 ~ Another New Boss?

My "Career" ~ Part  8 ~ "Everything's Great!"

My "Career" ~ Part 9 ~ A Cold Wind

My "Career" ~ Part 10 ~  Thank You ~ Goodbye

My "Career" ~ Part 11 ~ Breaking the News 

My "Career" ~ Part 12 ~ Loose Ends 

My "Career" ~ Epilogue






Previous Chapters:


My "Career ~ Part 3 ~ Karma


My "Career ~ Part 2 ~ Evil Bosses


My "Career" ~ Chapter 1












 

My "Career" ~ Part 3 ~ Karma

Our Bismarck branch had performed so well that the powers-that-be, as much as they disdained us, realized that they needed to find more people just like us.

This entailed a building expansion.  Because where would they put us all?  All us groovy, hardworking, competent people.  We may have been rubes, but we were smart rubes, and we didn't try to screw the company, not to mention any names or geographical locations.

So, voila, a whole new wing was added to the building!  That meant a move for us old-timers, up a flight of stairs (the new wing had two floors!)

My new best friend, Connie, kidded me as all us supervisors did a walk-through of the new digs.  She made little joshing remarks about where she'd put me, and I laughed and laughed, and thought about where I'd like to put her.

Connie had a new, innovative (i.e., "stupid") plan for transforming our business model.  She determined that it would be a wonderful (her favorite word) idea to place examiners in units according to their abilities.  In essence, Unit 1 would be all the really stupid people, Unit 2 would be the only semi-stupid people, and on and on, upwards, until we got to the really smart ones.  This, apparently, had some unforeseen logic that only dogs could hear, but I publicly applauded Connie's boldness.  I would have handed her a calligraphed diploma, if that would have kept her on my side.

We were all gathered in the conference room that day, when she had the director of operations on speakerphone, announcing her plan, that she assured him we were all on board with.  Yay!  Go team!  Idiot.

He (Dave) audibly sighed and said something to the effect of, "Well, I don't think that's gonna work, but if you want to try it, knock yourself out."

So, Connie began her stupid-ass game of musical chairs, ranking people.  Seriously!  Well, this one is dumb; let's put her in Unit 1.  How insulting.

And once she was done with the rankings, she also ranked the supervisors, although she wasn't quite so frank about our abilities or lack thereof, since we were all sitting there in the room.  But the bottom line was, she assigned the stupidest supervisor to the stupid unit, and on and on like that.

I think I was probably around #5 out of 7.  Not bad, considering our history.  We'd come a long way, baby.

By now, of course, I'd been chastised into not rocking anybody's boat.  My aim was to keep being employed.  And I had long since stifled my competitive streak.  Translation:  Didn't really care a whole lot, with the exception of advancing my employees' skill sets, which I kept on doing; Connie be damned.

One thing that always stuck in my craw was that there were two highly competent assistant supervisors who never, ever got a chance to advance.  Most likely because they suffered from "Shelly Syndrome", and forgot that they needed to play the "Flatter Connie" game.  They were so much more qualified than the lackeys that Connie had placed in positions of authority, and yet their careers were stymied.  I just kept encouraging them, and hoping.

One sunny August day, out of the blue, our director of operations, Dave, hopped a flight out of Philadelphia and appeared, unannounced, in our office.

He commandeered a spare room, called in our regional VP (I forget his name, so I'll call him "Charles"), and the two of them consulted behind closed doors for about an hour, much to the curiosity of us supervisors, who kept sneaking peaks, wondering what the hell this all meant.

Then my extension rang, and it was Dave calling!

"Can you stop in?"

Okay, I hadn't pissed off Dave, that I was aware of.  I hardly knew him!  Why in God's name would he want to talk to me?  I was the good, subservient employee now.  It had been a couple of years since I was threatened with being fired, and I was holding to the straight and narrow.

I meekly walked in to the little room, and Dave told me to close the door.

He, and Charles, commenced to grilling me about how things were going in the office.  I don't know what they knew, or how they knew it.  But they knew something.

Their questions were pointed.

So, I thought, all bets are off now.  You guys are asking.  And I'm telling.

I don't remember that I said anything derogatory about Connie, but I must have.  It's all kind of a blur.  I did say that there were two people who deserved to be supervisors, but they never had gotten the chance, and Dave asked me their names, and I told him.

That's the part that stands out in my memory.

I don't know what Dave saw in me, or why.  He didn't know me; I didn't know him.  But for some reason, he trusted me.  

And then I scurried off, back to my glass-walled cubicle.

It was 5:00, and I was sitting in my car, about to drive out of the parking lot to go home.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a blonde head emerging from the exit, carrying a box of belongings.

It was Connie.

I slumped down in the seat of my car.

I watched her as she trundled out, emotionless, as if she had been expecting it all along.

I think I called my mentor, Carlene, that night, and told her what I'd seen.  Carlene had been the only supervisor besides me who had been threatened by Connie with the loss of her job.  We were quizzical.  We weren't celebrating or high-fiving.  We just didn't get it.

The next day, Connie's office was dark.  Connie wasn't coming back.

Dave called all the supes together into the conference room to announce that Connie was gone.

Dave held my gaze for a good long time as he was sharing the news.

He never explained it, nor should he have.  One doesn't do that.

But, damn!  I felt fine!

Sometimes you find a good guy in your professional life.  Dave was a good guy.  And he, for whatever reason, liked me, or saw something in me.

I had not heard the last from Dave.


To be continued............ 




My "Career" ~ Part 4 ~ Phil

My "Career" ~ Part 5 ~ Welcome to the I-Land

My "Career" ~ Part 6 ~ "Who Do You Think You Are?"

My "Career" ~ Part 7 ~ Another New Boss?

My "Career" ~ Part  8 ~ "Everything's Great!"

My "Career" ~ Part 9 ~ A Cold Wind

My "Career" ~ Part 10 ~  Thank You ~ Goodbye

My "Career" ~ Part 11 ~ Breaking the News

My "Career" ~ Part 12 ~ Loose Ends

My "Career" ~ Epilogue



Previous Chapters:

My "Career" ~ Part 2 ~ Evil Bosses

My "Career" ~ Chapter 1

My "Career" ~ Part 2 ~ Evil Bosses

Being the highly successful (and the stats proved it) supervisor that I had become, I was looking forward eagerly to my first performance review.

My unit had kicked everybody's ass, and we had a good time while doing it.  At Christmastime, somebody somewhere in the office had suggested a decorating contest, and one of my people thought it would be fun to wrap our cubicle walls in Christmas wrap, with bows and the whole bit.  It looked pretty.

My first inkling of things to come should have been the rap on my clear glass cubicle wall from the evil assistant formerly assistant manager (now the actual manager), CONNIE, announcing to me that the the branch VP considered our decorations tacky and unprofessional.  (Really, hasn't everybody done that bit by now in every office everywhere in the world?  It's become such a cliche that our little area rejects the idea every time it comes up.)

With the wisdom of hindsight, I realize that the VP never said that; the evil manager, CONNIE, did, and she was too cowardly to claim ownership of her own bitchiness.

Regardless, we had to tear it all down.

Then, one Saturday, when we had mandatory overtime (we always had mandatory overtime), I made the unforgivable mistake of bringing caramel rolls for my staff. 

The problem was that all the other supervisors, except one (my friend and mentor) didn't bring caramel rolls for their staff.  This one-upsmanship made them feel sad and inferior.

And they apparently complained about it, too.  How it made them look like fools.  Because they were too selfish and self-centered to think about their own people, and how dare I shine a spotlight on that!

But I didn't know all this at the time.  I found out about it at my performance review.

You see, CONNIE (I like to use all caps, to accentuate her own sense of self-importance) was the insecure type who loved (loved!) having people fawn over her.  And there were certainly enough kiss-asses in the office who were eager to do it!  We had our lunchroom, in which all the supes were expected to congregate around Connie every day at twelve noon, and tell her how pretty her hair was, and how, no, she didn't look like she'd gained weight!  Not at all!  And how smart she was; such a dynamic decision-maker!  I, admittedly, have always had a hell of a time faking things.  To my detriment.

Nevertheless, when that fateful September day rolled around, I was oblivious to the blindsiding that was coming.  My review began innocuously enough.  Connie recited my unit's stats, and mumbled something about them.  I had to strain my ears, but I think she gave me props for my unit's achievements.  Although it's all become sort of jumbled in my mind, in light of what was yet to come.

Then, after the formalities were over, Connie leaned back in her chair, behind her obscenely oversized oak desk, and gave me the real what's-what.

"You are trying to make all the other supervisors look bad."

 "You're trying to show everybody up."

"You don't stop in and say goodnight to me when you leave at the end of the day."

"I don't like you."

"If you can't become part of my team, I will replace the team."

 This, folks, is what one gets for contributing to the success of a company.  

Jaded?  Not at all, no. 

Here's the scoop, kids.  You can be the biggest screw-up on the face of the earth.  You can have absolutely no skills; no intelligence.  You can be semi-literate.  You don't even need to be able to walk upright.  All you need to do is kiss ass.  

I didn't kiss ass.  And I was threatened with being fired.  For doing a hell of a good job.

I cried.  I cried during my review.  I didn't want to!  I couldn't control it.

She wouldn't even offer me a Kleenex.

Connie was cold, and she was evil.  But I wasn't stupid.

After a sleepless night, I determined to stop into her stupid office every stupid day at 5:00, and say, "Goodnight, Connie!  Have a nice night!"

I needed that job.

I toned down any sort of motivational perks for my staff (okay, I just kept them on the down-low ~ I still did them).

I praised to the high heavens the stupid, incompetent other supervisors that I had the supreme misfortune of having to work with.  

I downplayed my group's superior stats, but my unit knew.  They were sort of my co-conspirators in the whole operation.  They knew how good they were, but they knew they couldn't say how good they were.  Not out loud.

I also did one more thing.  I created my own new mantra:

Karma is a bitch.

To be continued..........

My "Career" ~ Part 3 ~ Karma

My "Career" ~ Part 4 ~ Phil

My "Career" ~ Part 5 ~ Welcome to the I-Land

My "Career" ~ Part 6 ~ "Who Do You Think You Are?"

My "Career" ~ Part 7 ~ Another New Boss?

My "Career" ~ Part  8 ~ "Everything's Great!"

My "Career" ~ Part 9 ~ A Cold Wind

My "Career" ~ Part 10 ~ Thank You ~ Goodbye

My "Career ~ Part 11 ~ Breaking the News 

My "Career" ~ Part 12 ~ Loose Ends 

My "Career" ~ Epilogue


Previous Chapters:

My "Career" ~ Chapter One