This is one of the things that started me thinking there is an actual mental issue with MSB. She claims all the time to "know" people she considers important. Frequently she says these people are a "good friend" or "close friend" of hers. For example, if a client mentions Bank of America, she will say "Oh, I am really good friends with the CFO at Bank of America!"
The weird thing is that she tells us in the office the same thing - and we all know she is lying. Once she talked about the owner of a company who also happened to my friend's boss. She said that this guy "loved her" and that he had asked her several times when they could do a deal together. I asked my friend to ask his boss. His boss said he did not remember meeting her and has no memory of ever having heard of her.
She knew full well that my friend worked for this guy and still went ahead with the lie. I think she may actually believe her own fantasies.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Pay Checks
We only get paid once per month and the check is rarely on the first day of the month. Do you know how hard it is to plan your finances when you only get paid once per month and do not even know which day it will be?
Guess who is in charge of this process?
Guess who is in charge of this process?
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Miss American Pie
It's about 6 pm and she walks into her husband's office where a picture of the newly crowned Miss Universe is on the computer screen. "It's Miss America!" she exclaims. And then it starts. . .
She starts singing Don McLean's "American Pie,"
"A long, long time ago
I can still remember
How that music used to make me smile. . .
Through the first verse and chorus ("Bye, bye Miss American Pie, Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the leveee was dry"). Most of the second verse. Then another chorus. All loud enough for everyone in the office to hear.
No response from any other soul in the office. Then she just stops. As suddenly as it had begun, it was over.
She starts singing Don McLean's "American Pie,"
"A long, long time ago
I can still remember
How that music used to make me smile. . .
Through the first verse and chorus ("Bye, bye Miss American Pie, Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the leveee was dry"). Most of the second verse. Then another chorus. All loud enough for everyone in the office to hear.
No response from any other soul in the office. Then she just stops. As suddenly as it had begun, it was over.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Almost Forgot
At the end of the meeting she asks, "So what should our cheer be?"
"What do you mean?"
"We should do a cheer, you know, like a sports team, like 'Go. . . something!' "
Not a word from anyone. Just staring. She drops the subject.
"What do you mean?"
"We should do a cheer, you know, like a sports team, like 'Go. . . something!' "
Not a word from anyone. Just staring. She drops the subject.
Late Friday Meeting
I sent my wife a text late in the afternoon saying that I felt a late meeting coming on. I was right. Ugh. 6:58 pm - "Can we have a quick update meeting with the whole team? I promise it won't take more than three minutes."
Actual meeting conversation:
"What have you been up to today?"
"Working on the updates for our website" is the reply.
"What website?" MSB asks.
"Our company website. The project we have been talking about for a few weeks now."
"Oh."
"We found a website designer guy who seems to be very good."
"At what?" she asks.
"At designing websites."
"Which website?"
Meeting ends at 7:17 pm. It feels good to accomplish so much.
Actual meeting conversation:
"What have you been up to today?"
"Working on the updates for our website" is the reply.
"What website?" MSB asks.
"Our company website. The project we have been talking about for a few weeks now."
"Oh."
"We found a website designer guy who seems to be very good."
"At what?" she asks.
"At designing websites."
"Which website?"
Meeting ends at 7:17 pm. It feels good to accomplish so much.
Like a Little Kid
Phone rings in the office and I answer. Caller is annoyed that someone from my office called him. I put him on hold to try to find the woman who called him. MSB is standing outside of my office yelling "Who's on the phone? Is it for me? Are they calling for me? Is it for me? Who is it?"
It's like a young child on a sugar rush just appeared in the office. So close to snapping. . .
It's like a young child on a sugar rush just appeared in the office. So close to snapping. . .
From a Fellow MSB Sufferer
This is a story sent in by a reader. . . my first reader-submitted content!
Okay so today I would like to speak about MSB and her no-friend-having ass mandating a work sports function. Several summers ago MSB in her infinite wisdom decided to invent an event of team building and fun. She decided that we as an office of 6 would go play beach volleyball after work.
She did not ask if anyone would like to participate in her new venture but more or less used her Boss status to make us appear. Allow me to set the mood: it would start with MSB saying "your coming to play today? Right?" and then i would start to say, "Well I gotta .... " and she would finish that sentence with "You gotta come play." Not wanting to upset the bipolar bear waiting to come out, I would succomb to the request.
As previously mentioned MSB has an issue with Time. It is her arch f***ing enemy. During the summer it stays light enough to be on the beach until 7:30p-8p before it is too dark to safely play volleyball. You would think that one might allow their "team" a chance to decompress from work then get together and play games. Maybe take off an hour early to go home, change clothes and get your game face on. Not MSB.
We would not leave the office unitl 6:30p sometimes 7 and then head to the beach with one hour to play if lucky. Now MSB is not the most athletically inclined. Remember the kids in grade school who always got picked last for sports? They would pick her last. She arrives to play on the beach in a long sleeve shirt, pajama pants and a hat that would make the women at the Kentucky Derby jealous. Her moves are not stealth. . . shit her moves are not moves. She would barely participate all the meanwhile making excuses at every opportunity as to why she could not help the team. So we would play until dusk and then MSB would suggest that we all go eat. At this opportunity I would say enough is enough and I need to leave. Let me tell you how bad I wanted to leave...One time the under ground tunnel to get to and from the beach was flooded, not New Orleans flooded but it was a good 2 feet deep cesspool of murky, algae-growin', green bubble-poppin', urine swirlin', dead bird soakin', funk . I sprinted through that tunnel faster than Usain Bolt just to escape the aura that is M(former)SB.
Okay so today I would like to speak about MSB and her no-friend-having ass mandating a work sports function. Several summers ago MSB in her infinite wisdom decided to invent an event of team building and fun. She decided that we as an office of 6 would go play beach volleyball after work.
She did not ask if anyone would like to participate in her new venture but more or less used her Boss status to make us appear. Allow me to set the mood: it would start with MSB saying "your coming to play today? Right?" and then i would start to say, "Well I gotta .... " and she would finish that sentence with "You gotta come play." Not wanting to upset the bipolar bear waiting to come out, I would succomb to the request.
As previously mentioned MSB has an issue with Time. It is her arch f***ing enemy. During the summer it stays light enough to be on the beach until 7:30p-8p before it is too dark to safely play volleyball. You would think that one might allow their "team" a chance to decompress from work then get together and play games. Maybe take off an hour early to go home, change clothes and get your game face on. Not MSB.
We would not leave the office unitl 6:30p sometimes 7 and then head to the beach with one hour to play if lucky. Now MSB is not the most athletically inclined. Remember the kids in grade school who always got picked last for sports? They would pick her last. She arrives to play on the beach in a long sleeve shirt, pajama pants and a hat that would make the women at the Kentucky Derby jealous. Her moves are not stealth. . . shit her moves are not moves. She would barely participate all the meanwhile making excuses at every opportunity as to why she could not help the team. So we would play until dusk and then MSB would suggest that we all go eat. At this opportunity I would say enough is enough and I need to leave. Let me tell you how bad I wanted to leave...One time the under ground tunnel to get to and from the beach was flooded, not New Orleans flooded but it was a good 2 feet deep cesspool of murky, algae-growin', green bubble-poppin', urine swirlin', dead bird soakin', funk . I sprinted through that tunnel faster than Usain Bolt just to escape the aura that is M(former)SB.
A Strange and Public Affection for Animal Abuse
As I mentioned previously when she recommended beating my cat to death with a baseball bat, MSB has some sort of violent hang-up about pets. At one of our wonderful Friday night meetings, the subject of pet food came up in regards to a business opportunity. MSB's husband advised that she should "ask Michael Vick what food he feeds his dogs." This took place right after Vick was released from prison recently.
This started her on a rant about how Vick had been unfairly criticized and focused on too harshly for doing "basically nothing." I couldn't take the preaching and answered, "He tortured and murdered animals."
Her answer, in front of every employee of her company at a company meeting: "And I'm supposed to feel bad about that?"
This started her on a rant about how Vick had been unfairly criticized and focused on too harshly for doing "basically nothing." I couldn't take the preaching and answered, "He tortured and murdered animals."
Her answer, in front of every employee of her company at a company meeting: "And I'm supposed to feel bad about that?"
Long Meetings
Every meeting she calls starts off with, "I promise this meeting will last no more than X minutes" and she fails every single time to meet the stated goal. 30 minutes turns into an hour and 15. Five minutes turns into 45 minutes. Every meeting turns into an exercise in paying just enough attention to stay awake.
Two consecutive Fridays, she called a company meeting after 5:30 pm. ON A FRIDAY. The second time this happened, I immediately said that I had to leave at 6:30 (to avoid a long meeting). The response was "This won't take more than 10 monutes."
I left the meeting at 6:40 pm.
Two consecutive Fridays, she called a company meeting after 5:30 pm. ON A FRIDAY. The second time this happened, I immediately said that I had to leave at 6:30 (to avoid a long meeting). The response was "This won't take more than 10 monutes."
I left the meeting at 6:40 pm.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Lateness
Yesterday MSB was out of the office visiting potential clients. At 4:10 pm, we got a call in the office from one of these prospective clients. She reported that she had been waiting since 3:30 for MSB to show up for a meeting and had not heard from her. 40 minutes late and not even a call. Unfortunately, this is common with her.
For whatever reason, she has absolutely no sense of time and no concern at all for being late - even when she knows others are waiting.
On Fridays, she routinely tells her 90-year old father to meet her at our office and then allows him to sit for up to and over a full hour while she "finishes up" at the office. He's 90 and asleep in the car while she chit-chats and watches YouTube!
The other day she announced to her minions, "I need to leave so I need your answers NOW!" at 2 pm. There was nothing on her calendar the rest of the afternoon and she never left for an appointment. The same day, she said goodbye to everyone at 6:40 pm, then did not leave the office. The she walked around and said goodbye to everyone at 7:05 pm but did not leave. She repeated the routine for the third and final time at 7:40 pm.
If she is late for an appointment, she will also forward her cell phone to our office so that others will have to deal with angry callers. She once had our receptionist tell her lunch appointment that she (MSB) was valet parking at the restaurant when she had not left our office to drive the 30 minutes to the restaurant! The person she was to meet called two more times before she finally arrived.
For whatever reason, she has absolutely no sense of time and no concern at all for being late - even when she knows others are waiting.
On Fridays, she routinely tells her 90-year old father to meet her at our office and then allows him to sit for up to and over a full hour while she "finishes up" at the office. He's 90 and asleep in the car while she chit-chats and watches YouTube!
The other day she announced to her minions, "I need to leave so I need your answers NOW!" at 2 pm. There was nothing on her calendar the rest of the afternoon and she never left for an appointment. The same day, she said goodbye to everyone at 6:40 pm, then did not leave the office. The she walked around and said goodbye to everyone at 7:05 pm but did not leave. She repeated the routine for the third and final time at 7:40 pm.
If she is late for an appointment, she will also forward her cell phone to our office so that others will have to deal with angry callers. She once had our receptionist tell her lunch appointment that she (MSB) was valet parking at the restaurant when she had not left our office to drive the 30 minutes to the restaurant! The person she was to meet called two more times before she finally arrived.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Dwindling Staff
In the past five workdays, two people have quit. We now have a bare-bones staff and no one to answer the phones.
Answering the phones here is so painful that I try to never do it. MSB requires that we ask each caller their name, company, phone number, email address and message. Every single call. "But what if we know you have already talked to this person before?" we asked. "How would you know that I have talked to him before you get that information?" she replied. So we are supposed to ask for all of this information.
Unless we're not supposed to. She heard the receptionist / intern asking these questions of a caller and yelled from her office, "DO NOT INTERROGATE CALLERS! I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THAT!"
When we take a message on the phone, we have to send her (and only her) an email with a specifically formatted subject line containing first and last name, company, phone number and email address. Then in the body of the message all of this information must be repeated plus the time of the call and the message. Each message like this takes about three minutes from start of call to end of email message.
Then the other day she said that we are to remove our standard email signature block from these messages also. She says it is distracting to see a signature block at the end of the message. Guess who required that we all use the same signature block for all emails awhile back?
Next person to go will either be me or the other remaining male staff member. Not sure who I am betting on at this point. . .
Answering the phones here is so painful that I try to never do it. MSB requires that we ask each caller their name, company, phone number, email address and message. Every single call. "But what if we know you have already talked to this person before?" we asked. "How would you know that I have talked to him before you get that information?" she replied. So we are supposed to ask for all of this information.
Unless we're not supposed to. She heard the receptionist / intern asking these questions of a caller and yelled from her office, "DO NOT INTERROGATE CALLERS! I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THAT!"
When we take a message on the phone, we have to send her (and only her) an email with a specifically formatted subject line containing first and last name, company, phone number and email address. Then in the body of the message all of this information must be repeated plus the time of the call and the message. Each message like this takes about three minutes from start of call to end of email message.
Then the other day she said that we are to remove our standard email signature block from these messages also. She says it is distracting to see a signature block at the end of the message. Guess who required that we all use the same signature block for all emails awhile back?
Next person to go will either be me or the other remaining male staff member. Not sure who I am betting on at this point. . .
Sunday, August 16, 2009
The Word Several
MSB and one of her staff were discussing some work that had been completed. Within this document, there was, apparently, a statement to the effect of "The company operates in several cities outside of the United States." MSB asked how many cities outside the United States the company operates in. The answer from the writer of the document was "It's not clear from the information I found, but I thought it was relevant to how much expansion the company has accomplished."
The reply from MSB was swift and terrible: "This is unacceptable! We sell certainty here! Don't you ever use the word 'several' with me ever again!" and the poor staffer was sent away to re-write the document.
For the record, our company does not sell certainty at all. We do a lot of selling and marketing and schmoozing, but we do not sell "certainty." In addition, even if the problem really was with the use of the word "several," why would this particular issue cause the use of the word to be completely prohibited in all cases? This is another frequent and extremely time-wasting action that MSB takes all the time: legislating future behavior to correct for an error that is not likely to repeat itself. If you are a good manager, you teach a lesson at a time like this. For example, you explain the benefit that precision would provide in the document in question and then move on to how you would appreciate it if the future documents included absolutely as much precision as is possible. The problem is not the specific word that was used - it was that the word did nto provide the precision that MSB wanted in the document. To forever forbid the use of the word "several" is an unneccesary additional rule that doesn't even solve the initial problem, much less prevent the problem from happening again.
More on making rules to correct past mistakes later.
I bring this up today because the abused staffer from this story quit at the end of last week. I have no idea why she would want to leave this place.
The reply from MSB was swift and terrible: "This is unacceptable! We sell certainty here! Don't you ever use the word 'several' with me ever again!" and the poor staffer was sent away to re-write the document.
For the record, our company does not sell certainty at all. We do a lot of selling and marketing and schmoozing, but we do not sell "certainty." In addition, even if the problem really was with the use of the word "several," why would this particular issue cause the use of the word to be completely prohibited in all cases? This is another frequent and extremely time-wasting action that MSB takes all the time: legislating future behavior to correct for an error that is not likely to repeat itself. If you are a good manager, you teach a lesson at a time like this. For example, you explain the benefit that precision would provide in the document in question and then move on to how you would appreciate it if the future documents included absolutely as much precision as is possible. The problem is not the specific word that was used - it was that the word did nto provide the precision that MSB wanted in the document. To forever forbid the use of the word "several" is an unneccesary additional rule that doesn't even solve the initial problem, much less prevent the problem from happening again.
More on making rules to correct past mistakes later.
I bring this up today because the abused staffer from this story quit at the end of last week. I have no idea why she would want to leave this place.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Seeking Your Stories
Do these stories remind you of anyone? Please send me an email so I include your stories of Your Sociopathic Boss here with mine. Let me know if you want your name attached or not.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Hoarding
As I mentioned previously, she is a hoarder and pack rat of the first order. We have 17 chairs in our conference room (only eight fit around the table). We have four horizontal file drawers full of computer peripherals and accessories like keyboards, mice, printer cables that are so old you cannot physically plug them into a modern PC. We have six bookshelves lined with PC software that is old enough that the boxes contain floppy disks - and not the small 3.5-inch floppy disks from when I was in college 13 years ago. We have two one-gallon Ziploc freezer bags full of old pens and markers that barely write. A box of cell phone going back 20 years sits in our kitchen area.
The worst and most cluttering object of the hoarding, though, is freebies from conventions, shows, advertising campaigns, and the like. There must be 100 canvas bags with logos of trade shows or companies no one has heard from in the past 10 years. The ultimate story of hoarding came about a year ago when I was trying to throw away some of the mounting mess of detritus from the office.
She had surrendered to the need for more free space in the office. With the rare opportunity to clean house, I had already taken two bags of garbage out when she walked in, surveyed the pile of trash and grabbed a box from the pile destined for the building's Dumpster. The old and faded brown cardboard box had a printed logo that said "Airtouch Cellular" on it and I already knew what was inside - a wooden cheeseboard and cheese knife. The cheeseboard had the Airtouch Cellular logo burned into it. She looked at me and I knew it was on.
"Why are you throwing this away?" she pleaded.
"It's been sitting here for probably 10 years and you have never even opened it. Plus it's a cheeseboard. You wouldn't buy it for 50 cents at the store," I replied.
"No, no, no, we can't throw this away. It's in perfectly good shape."
She looked at her husband - my other boss - who had entered in the midst of her passionate cheeseboard defense, and said "You know, your cousin's wedding is coming up. We could give this to him as his gift."
"It has a logo on it from a company that is so old it no longer exists!" I interjected for his cousin's sake and for all that is good and holy in the world of proper gift-giving.
"We can put a sticker over that. Something that says 'Congratulations' or something," she answered.
Now, this a foodservice item and her plan clearly would unravel upon the cheeseboard's first use by his cousin and I knew this. She was going to use a freebie wooden cheeseboard with a homemade sticker covering up a burned-in corporate advertisement as a wedding gift for a family member! And her husband wasn't stopping her!
But I gave up. I let her have it. You get to a certain point with a person who is crazy where the more you argue, the more you feel you are being pulled down into their quagmire. I stepped away from that argument and continued on with my clean-up.
The worst and most cluttering object of the hoarding, though, is freebies from conventions, shows, advertising campaigns, and the like. There must be 100 canvas bags with logos of trade shows or companies no one has heard from in the past 10 years. The ultimate story of hoarding came about a year ago when I was trying to throw away some of the mounting mess of detritus from the office.
She had surrendered to the need for more free space in the office. With the rare opportunity to clean house, I had already taken two bags of garbage out when she walked in, surveyed the pile of trash and grabbed a box from the pile destined for the building's Dumpster. The old and faded brown cardboard box had a printed logo that said "Airtouch Cellular" on it and I already knew what was inside - a wooden cheeseboard and cheese knife. The cheeseboard had the Airtouch Cellular logo burned into it. She looked at me and I knew it was on.
"Why are you throwing this away?" she pleaded.
"It's been sitting here for probably 10 years and you have never even opened it. Plus it's a cheeseboard. You wouldn't buy it for 50 cents at the store," I replied.
"No, no, no, we can't throw this away. It's in perfectly good shape."
She looked at her husband - my other boss - who had entered in the midst of her passionate cheeseboard defense, and said "You know, your cousin's wedding is coming up. We could give this to him as his gift."
"It has a logo on it from a company that is so old it no longer exists!" I interjected for his cousin's sake and for all that is good and holy in the world of proper gift-giving.
"We can put a sticker over that. Something that says 'Congratulations' or something," she answered.
Now, this a foodservice item and her plan clearly would unravel upon the cheeseboard's first use by his cousin and I knew this. She was going to use a freebie wooden cheeseboard with a homemade sticker covering up a burned-in corporate advertisement as a wedding gift for a family member! And her husband wasn't stopping her!
But I gave up. I let her have it. You get to a certain point with a person who is crazy where the more you argue, the more you feel you are being pulled down into their quagmire. I stepped away from that argument and continued on with my clean-up.
Eruption at Lunch
Seven of us are sitting at lunch, in an upscale restaurant, discussing some recent firm activities. One of the topics was a recent speech given by an older gentlemen we all knew where he spoke about his role in forming the armed forces of Israel soon after the country was born. A woman who had been working with us recently as a contract employee commented that even her friend, who was Palestinian, found the talk very engaging and interesting.
MSB immediately and loudly proclaimed, loud enough for everyone in the restaurant (at least 20 other people)to hear, "You have no right to use that word at this table! There is no such thing as a Palestinian! You can say whatever you like when you are with your liberal cronies and bash Israel in any way that you want, but you will not use the word PALESTINIAN at this table!" She grew progressively louder as she railed and every single head in that room was turned toward her by the finish.
No one knew what to say. We all wanted to ask how exactly we were supposed to refer to those people should the subject come up again, but it was clear that we were all too shocked by the sudden outburst to ask the question. There was little talking the rest of the meal and the contractor left the job the next day. I was asked twice "Wasn't it weird how she just left like that without even a good-bye?"
MSB immediately and loudly proclaimed, loud enough for everyone in the restaurant (at least 20 other people)to hear, "You have no right to use that word at this table! There is no such thing as a Palestinian! You can say whatever you like when you are with your liberal cronies and bash Israel in any way that you want, but you will not use the word PALESTINIAN at this table!" She grew progressively louder as she railed and every single head in that room was turned toward her by the finish.
No one knew what to say. We all wanted to ask how exactly we were supposed to refer to those people should the subject come up again, but it was clear that we were all too shocked by the sudden outburst to ask the question. There was little talking the rest of the meal and the contractor left the job the next day. I was asked twice "Wasn't it weird how she just left like that without even a good-bye?"
Clocks
We have 36 clocks in our office and only two of them show the correct time. She is obsessed with clocks. Five employees and 36 clocks. Also 26 garbage cans. She is a hoarder and a pack rat - more on that later.
Our previous receptionist asked me one day who at the office was obsessed with their own mortality and I asked what she meant. She said that only a person obsessed with dying would have so many clocks around. Interesting thought, especially when you know that MSB's other strange hobby or interest is reading the obituaries in the newspaper. She is always talking about how we should all read the obituaries every day because there are so many great stories there. I never made the connection between the obituaries and the clocks, so this was a very astute observation from the new receptionist.
Our previous receptionist asked me one day who at the office was obsessed with their own mortality and I asked what she meant. She said that only a person obsessed with dying would have so many clocks around. Interesting thought, especially when you know that MSB's other strange hobby or interest is reading the obituaries in the newspaper. She is always talking about how we should all read the obituaries every day because there are so many great stories there. I never made the connection between the obituaries and the clocks, so this was a very astute observation from the new receptionist.
The Cat Story
Paul, a co-worker, walks into my office with My Sociopathic Boss because they are working with pet companies and want my opinion on a product. Paul asks me if I like the electronic kitty litter box that I recently bought for my cat and we discussed my impressions of the product (I generally like it a lot). MSB asks me if "all the poop stays inside the box" when my cat goes to the bathroom.
I answered that my cat has long hair and sometimes a piece of poop will get stuck to her and then fall on the floor, but usually it all stays in the box. MSB kind of looks at me with a disgusted face and her eyes quickly dart around my office. They stop on a very old children's babseball bat in the corner- old enough to have "Hillerich and Bradsby" on it rather than "Louisville Slugger" - and she says, "If I had a cat that got poop on the floor of my house I would beat it to death with that bat."
I look at her for a sign that she is joking, but there is nothing there. I look at Paul quickly as if to say "Did she just say that?" She says thanks and then leaves my office. I am appalled.
I answered that my cat has long hair and sometimes a piece of poop will get stuck to her and then fall on the floor, but usually it all stays in the box. MSB kind of looks at me with a disgusted face and her eyes quickly dart around my office. They stop on a very old children's babseball bat in the corner- old enough to have "Hillerich and Bradsby" on it rather than "Louisville Slugger" - and she says, "If I had a cat that got poop on the floor of my house I would beat it to death with that bat."
I look at her for a sign that she is joking, but there is nothing there. I look at Paul quickly as if to say "Did she just say that?" She says thanks and then leaves my office. I am appalled.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Have you ever worked with a person that is so difficult to deal with that your friends don't believe the stories you tell them? The kind of person who always manages to surprise you with how far past the normal bounds of behavior that she is willing to go?
I have been encouraged to document these stories, these incidents, these events that make me think, "I cannot believe my boss is doing this in front of me - in front of everyone - at work."
This is happening. This is my life.
I have been encouraged to document these stories, these incidents, these events that make me think, "I cannot believe my boss is doing this in front of me - in front of everyone - at work."
This is happening. This is my life.
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