My So-called Professional Life

In my professional life, I have worked for many bosses. From lame ass bosses, bossy bosses, wonderful bosses, psycho bosses and sometimes I found myself in the bosses seat.

I was a woeful WOEFUL boss. I hated people coming to me with all their problems and tried my darnedest to palm them off onto other departments. I once complained to my boss about someone who was working for me at the time who wanted me to do something for them, when by boss actually told me that that was my role.

To sort shit out.

I was clearly not management material.

I worked in the publishing industry and experienced the full spectrum of management. Management. What a tossy club to be in. Everyone hated you if you were in Management, When I was in Management, I got a car, a car space, a credit card and a chair that was like this.

And at that particular publishing house, if you were not in Management, you had to be content with parking your ass on one of these all day. Oh, and it was nearly always broken.

It was a total class system and you were truly fucked if you were promoted from within to a management position. I was not promoted from within. I came courtesy of a takeover and they needed to find me something to do. And the title they came up with was International Marketing Manager. A role that was as vague as it sounds.

Mainly I was on Facebook which was brand spanking new at the time. Oh and I went to long lunches, because you could do that if you were in “Management” . And sometimes I went shopping in the city, which was what I like to call, “having a meeting.”

Prior to the takeover I worked for one of those bosses you dream of. She was truly inspiring, creative and was really into empowerment. I learnt so much from her and was shattered when she was poached by another company. Her boss, (my big boss) was a complete and utter tyrant and could bring grown men and women to tears. My favourite line she used was “So, tell me. Are you retarded or what?” She never used it on me though, as I was blessed with the ability to read her mind. To be fair, she was a creative genius, and people who are gifted like that are often psychos. For some reason I liked her immensely despite her being a total bitch.

And when I resigned, I left a truly depressing environment where people would get their tits in a tangle over photocopying codes, mugs, budgets, warehouse problems, temperamental authors, in fighting and factions, “the designers” and of course fucking car spaces.

Always with the fucking car spaces.

Getting emails every day about lifts being broken, handbags being stolen, sanitary bins and the misuse of them, 360 degree performance reviews, hirings, firings and cleaning out the fridges slowly and surely started to turn me postal.

So I walked.

I had been terrified for so long about losing my career and the emphasis I placed on it which I believe at the time helped me to define who I was and that I was important to sit on a chair that had both a back AND two armrests. And on reflection I can see what it taught me. And the first thing is that I should have told several people to go jam it along the way.

So if you occasionally read a sponsored post here on my blog, or notice an ad up there on the sidebar please do not judge me. It is my little way of staying sane and avoiding the return to the dreaded cubicle flooded in fluorescent lighting and encased in blue furry dividers.

And the boss from hell, who if she could raise her eyebrows at me anymore, they would form a fringe.

Who is the worst person you have ever worked for?