"Change, when it comes, cracks everything open."
Dorothy Allen

Saturday, November 5, 2011

Who's the Boss?

I don't really like my boss. 

Bear in mind, I report to 2 different people.  One of them is fine, I like him, we get along.  He leaves me alone and let's me do my job.  More importantly, he trusts me, knows that I know what I am doing and most importantly, treats me like an adult.  I have respect for him, and we work well together.

The other one...yeah, it's not good.

I have no respect for him.  The sound of his voice drives me a little batty.  When he makes a decision, my first reaction, deep in my gut, is to do the exact opposite.  We do not see eye to eye on most things, I KNOW that I can do the job better (because I have) and I feel as though my time, thoughts, and opinions have absolutely no value, unless they make him look better.

So yeah.  I don't like my boss.

It's 11pm on a  Saturday night.  Yes, I am working.  Yes, I was available on our communicator.  But the fact that he will contact me, and fully expect me to jump to his beck and call...it burns my ass.  I am infuriated.

I try to move tasks to him, that belong there.  He pushes them back to me, because he can't understand the simplest concepts.  I try to share tasks with the team, so that I am no longer solely responsible for the success or failure of procedures.  He tells me he is more comfortable if I hold onto them for "a few more months, just to avoid confusion."  That will make it a solid year that it's been on my plate, buddy boy. 

Someone tried to explain to me, a while ago, what it would be like to report to a fully knowledgable, accountable and business saavy manager.  I can't even imagine it.  I have been saddled with 2 train wrecks, back to back.  That they make more than me blows my mind.  That I keep making them look good makes me ashamed.

I know I shouldn't be posting this.  I KNOW this.  But I can't help it. 

I try not to burn bridges.  I try to play nice in the sandbox.  Others on my team have thrown up their hands in defeat, and I keep plodding on, not exploding, not yelling, although every fibre of my being is telling me too.  I think I am worried that if I start, I won't know when to stop.  And I need this job too frigging bad to let that happen. 

We had a meeting last week.  I started to talk, to TALK to him.  I looked at him and I talked about how things were going bad, and how it was not fair that we had to live with the environment that we were stuck in.  I was talking to, at and about him.  And he looked at me, with his big, dumb, completely oblivious eyes and completely missed the boat. 

I am logging off now, before I say something I will regret.  But just remember- me typing this now, might keep me from screaming it in his face on Monday.  So thanks for that.

Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "numbnuts."

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