Bad Bosses

This is a first stab at something I've been meaning to do for a long time. Looking back over life before The Girl officially deserted the working world to become a writer (more truthfully, became a writer because it is a recognizable and validated way of deserting the working world), she realized that most of her bosses were unbelievable assholes. Not the kind that sometimes says, "Can you work late tonight?" But the kind that hurls objects at walls while screaming expletives (Champaign, Illinios, 1996). The kind that discusses auto-eroticism at office meetings (also Illinois, same boss). The kind that forces its (all female) employees to share a bathroom with it, then sends around an email complaining of a smell and suggesting the use of matches (Alameda, California, 2001). That kind of unbelievable asshole. (Am I allowed to use the word "asshole" on this blog? If not, I'll substitute stars, which I guess are supposed to resemble tiny little a******s themselves.

What blows my mind and forever will is that, by the mere strength of having access to the $$ that become a paycheck, screwed up (Champaign, Illinois) and even sub-human (Alameda, California) people create tiny little a*****e worlds where they are demi-god-emperor-sex-pervert-extraordinaire--all things to all people in said tiny worlds.

I have only mentioned two of the group of messed-up, morally-challenged morons who all-too-lengthily dictated my employment environment, but there are so many more that it boggles the mind. How do they get away with it? Why are not more of them killed at their desks by infuriated receptionists, or pushed out windows as they tilt back in thousand-dollar chairs to make an especially (they think) telling point? It is a mystery to me how bad bosses remain alive, as I am sure they should not be allowed to draw breath after the first time they say things like, "I would never hire a woman if I knew she was pregnant", (Berkely, California, 1999).

I think there's a novel here, but first I think it will start with bile and venom as I try to purge the nastiness left behind from the "work" experiences I had before finding my true calling, which is to sit on the couch in my pyjamas, drink vats of sweet tea, and churn the cream of my imagination into what is fast becoming my bread and butter...