She Gets Her Slings and Arrows from the Dumpster

Remember how I mentioned I joined a professional association? Well, I just discovered that the worst boss I ever had in my entire life is also a member. She was the ultimate psychotic manager, and I shall dub her Mrs. Nasty. Unfortunately, when I worked with Mrs. Nasty I didn’t have my trusty tool kit of wit and my skin was so not thick. (It was basically translucent.) To give you an idea of how awful this woman was to me, you should probably know that when I quit I ran out of the office and locked myself in a bathroom stall. I sobbed uncontrollably. A woman who I shared an office with, but was from another department, came in to check on me. I asked her to get my backpack. I never went back to that office. I vowed I would never work in another office again. I thought all office managers were like this horrid being. (Sometimes I regret not trusting my initial instinct.)

From the start I could do nothing right. I wasn’t cheery enough on the phone. I forgot to say good morning from 8 until 11:59 AM. I forgot to switch to good afternoon at 1 PM (we closed the office strictly at 12 to 12:59 PM). I stapled on the horizontal, not the diagonal. I couldn’t read her mind when she handed me stacks of paper and told me to “deal with them.” Was I supposed to file them? Mail them? Fax them? Alphabetize them? Eat them? I guess I’ll never know. I wish I could say the insanity stopped there, but it didn’t. Twice she cornered me in an elevator and accused me of being an evildoer. (The answer is yes, yes I am. I do Lucifer’s bidding.) My breaking point occurred when she called me into the director’s office when he was out of town. She maligned me again. When I tried to stand up to her she silenced me and called me horrible names. I ran past her with tears in my eyes and didn’t look back.

There. That’s my saga with this woman. I feel better.

I contemplated dropping out of the association, but one of my current bosses encouraged me to stick with it. She told me to show Mrs. Nasty that I’m a grown woman and won’t be bullied anymore. I don’t know if I’ll follow through, but I think my boss is right. I’ve grown up in the six years since I was in Mrs. Nasy’ts employ. As much as I’ve complained about wretched bosses here and there, none compare to Mrs. Nasty. I found my personal limit for unhappiness during those three months. I learned that I have a voice, and I have to use it.