This is the story of my terribly, horrific, heinous boss "M."
If you were Tracy D.'s boss at some point, and you think "Hey--my name starts with "M" and I wasn't very nice to her all those years ago...maybe she's talking about me..." Give the man a cookie...you're right--it is you.
As a caveat, somewhere along the way, and I'm not 100% on how this happened, I've forgiven you. I know, I know--I am surprised. I thought I had resigned you to the 9th Circle of Hell forever myself, but apparently you've made it out. I'm reserving the right to recount the stories though.
Forgiveness = Yours.
Stories = All mine, baby. All. Mine.
So--back to "M."
At the time he was a man in his prime. Superego, misogynistic, arrogant...oh yes. Holding people back-- "Heck, yeah!" Woo hoo. In his 30's, immature, poor judgment a-hole? Oh. I see you have met him...or his brother.
During the course of my time in servitude to him, no matter how hard I worked, or how good I made him look he was not going to let up on the power reigns whatsoever. He had a penis...purportedly...and I did not. That was enough for the torture and micromanagement that he happily doled out on a daily basis.
To set the scene, I had left the company for a very brief 6-8 week time period. I had thoughts of becoming a stay-at-home-mom...well, really they were thoughts of "If I get rid of some of the stress in my life, maybe I can finally get pregnant." And, if that didn't work out maybe I would head back to school for my Master's. (You can never tell career people, women especially, that you want to be a SAHM. They look at you like you've lost your mind and maybe you're not so smart after all.)
Anyway, after my very short reprieve from the work force I had to go back and take my old boss up on the offer that everyone makes, but are you really sure they mean it, "If you ever want to come back..."
I felt apprehensive and humiliated about it, but there was no other course, in my eyes at that time, except for that one. Unfortunately for me, they had just done some hiring for the good jobs and the only job that was available was one working for "M." I didn't want to work for him directly, as working with him indirectly had been a chore and I knew it would be so not fun to work for him directly, being the micro-manager and woman hater that I knew he was from previous experiences. My old boss, however, was very congenial and understanding and was happy to have me back into the department. "M." just acted put out about it. The interview was with my old boss and with "M." and all things considered it had gone really well, until the last question that he tossed out like a grenade and which came to rest with a poof of dust at my feet for me to pick up-- "So you left the company once. If I hire you how do I know you're not going to quit again?"
I was stunned. Really??
"Because my dreams have been crushed you asshole and I have no hope of ever going back to them again.
I have resigned myself to my fate of working in this Hell-hole, apparently for the rest of my shitty childless life. For you--no less.
Thank you for asking.
Can I have the job and get to it so I can go home and start drinking in the afternoon to numb the pain???"
Did I say that?
No. I was 29 and didn't have the figurative balls of steel that I do now.
Instead I, humiliated even further, and now knowing the full power this whiny, self-important man had over me and the course of my career, said--
"That's not going to happen. Those paths--those doors have closed and are no longer an option. My career is here and I don't see myself leaving anytime in the near future."
And her soul cried out in anguish to say it.
And the angels heard her heart break and they did sing unspeakably beautiful lamentations for her.
From that point forward, after smirking an evil all-knowing smirk, I was his bitch, and he never let me forget it, forevermore.
So, at that point in my life, during those two years that I worked for him, and a number of other years of interaction with him that trailed behind, I wished him death. But not just death as an end resolution of some miscellaneous sort.
I thought "If the planet, in all of its blue and white and green glory, were to momentarily lose gravity but not stop spinning--and if one person and one person only could be flung from it into the great black void of space, never to be heard from or seen again--If it were "M."--I would not be sad. I would not shed one tear. I would not lament the grief of his wife and children. They probably wouldn't know it, but they would be better off."
It was a number of years before the fantasy of "M."-thrown-into-the-void dissipated and I began thinking "Meh. Who cares? I see he's mellowed. But he'll never be the leader he could have been." Because my friends, the tragic part of the story isn't me--it is him--it is him and what he lost in treating the women around him the way he did. (Women in the workplace can always use a strong champion, they have enough people holding them down in so many places and ways, that did you really need to jump on the bandwagon with the rest of the majority?) The tragedy was in what he refused to step up and do, it is in what he never truly disciplined himself to become, which was a great and charismatic leader.
The thing that is so pathetic is that since those dismal days, as time has passed, he has acted like we are old friends, like the past never happened, and believe me...there is plenty more that is worse than this little tale of woe.
For example, I hadn't really seen him or interacted with him in several years and we ran into each other in the hallway (this was several years ago) and he walked up, clapped me on the shoulder and said "How's my old friend Tracy doing?"
????Wait...What????
Since when were we on clap-me-on-the-shoulder "friends" terms?
Yes...I was stunned. (Now, I'm not a rude person, and I kept my personal feelings to myself, for the most part, about the poor work relationship I had with him, but I did have some close friends who had either been a direct witness to the misery or had suffered at his hands themselves.)
A good friend of mine, who had also been a subject under his miserable regime, was with me. After he walked on and turned the corner, we looked at each other like a couple of open-mouthed mailboxes in stunned silence...because he had been **serious.** Then we promptly busted into laughter by the shock of it all.
The funniest thing though? After all of these years he has friend req'd me on Facebook **tonight.**
But here's the other bit...men, consistently, who are massive jerks in their younger adult years, after seasoning and maturing and etc., often end up being quite nice in their upper 40's and onward. I don't know what it is.
As long as you meet them after they've mellowed they are great people---but for all of us that they stepped on in the early years...Guess what? Time may have mellowed the pain and humiliation, the wounds may have healed, the stories may even have taken on humorous twists now that they are far enough back in the past, but we still have your boot prints on our backs and a bit of jaded life's experience tagging along from our past with you.
So...yeah...thanks for that and it's super-awesomely-stellar that everyone loves you now...but even though I've forgiven you--even though I have also matured and grown and have moved on--I'll still always be a little wary of you and I will never trust you... but I don't hate you anymore. I don't wish you death anymore. In fact, I hope you're doing all right.
Wishing you the best... well... at least not wishing you the worst anymore...
