Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Bad Bosses Part II

Forgive me for going on and on about this, but as I was blogging along yesterday, I realized that I was just getting too long-winded, and I had left out a boss or two. So, here I go again, and I promise this will be the last time I'll talk about this. But,it sure is cleansing. So, I might as well say everything I want to say.

My very first boss, back in the sixties, only thought he was the boss. His mother worked there, too, and she was the real boss. What a character she was, Granny we called her (not out loud, of course). We were allowed two ten minute breaks per day. This is back in the days when everybody smoked, and she didn't allow it, so we had to go out to have a cigarette. There was a movie theater right next door, and the manager allowed us to slip into the ladies room to have a coke, and smoke. When we left for breaks, she would make a point of looking at her watch, and she was looking at it still when we came back. Same thing for lunch hour. she had a huge portrait of her late husband, the company's founder. And, every morning, she would turn on a spotlight over the portrait before doing anything else.

The Sixties - those were the days, my friend. I thought they'd never end. I got up every weekday morning and put on my long-line bra, that cinched me in all the way to the waist, and my long-line girdle, that cinched me in from waist to knees, except for that pesky roll that popped out between the two and the rolls that oozed out around my kneecaps. Then, came the hose and three-inch heels, with the pointy toes. And, you wonder why we called it "women's lib". But, I digress.

Granny was very, er, frugal. We worked on IBM Selectric typewriters, and Granny spent a good part of every day trying to rewind the carbon ribbons. Every few months, she would become dissatisfied with the cemetery where her late husband was buried. So, up he'd come, and she'd move him to another one. Her son's hobby, since he didn't actually have any responsibility, was tomcatting around with anything in a skirt. This seems to be a common activity among management types.

When I first went to work for the factory manager, I was surprised to see that he had a direct phone line into his office, as well as the one that went through the switchboard. He explained that it was in case the switchboard broke down, he could still call out for help. Soon, though, I learned that the private line was so his mistress could call him.

The last boss I had was the last boss I had. Hooray! He was, frankly, a jerk. He was in 'way over his head and, I think in the dark reaches of his tiny little mind he knew this. Our division had started circling the drain by the time he came to us, with most of our products going to Mexico, so he didn't really have to do much except babysit and figure out a way to get rid of me. A year or so before they closed the doors, I was out for six weeks for some surgery, and two days after I went back to work, he informed me that people higher up the food chain than he was had decided to do away with my position. They knew they couldn't just up and lay me off, age discrimination, you know, but he had been told to downsize and the only two possibilities were the cute little blond girl in Human Resources, and me.

Later those same higher management types replaced him with another man who was to complete the closing of the factory, and they didn't offer him a position in any other division. Karma works.


Kell said...

Had to wipe tears away as I read the bra and girldle description. Lordy, thank goodness for Victoria's Secret!

Granny sounds like quite a character. She'd unbury her husband and move him?!? How, exactly, can you be dissatified with a cemetery? LOL on that one.

F&W said...

I can't decide which is more alarming...Granny moving her husband from grave to grave or the bra and girdle. I think the bra and girdle scare me more. ;o)

I worked at a radio station that was on a rather frugal budget as well (see: cheap boss). Somehow the manager got his hands on a very old gestetner machine and some extra ink. Just when we thought we were out of ink and he'd be forced to buy a REAL photocopier, he'd find more ink at some rummage sale. That machine was a real pain in the patootie. What's really funny about this is that it was 1994!

saz said...

Clearly I've led a sheltered life tho' I do remember the long line bras and girdles and the wedge of fat between.

Wonder what ever happened to Granny? Was she eventually buried with her husband and is her son keeping the family tradition of the moving grave?

This is just too funny!

saz said...

Betty - I talk to an old work buddy of mine every night. She's 86, lives alone and rarely can leave her house cuz of arthritis in her knees. The "blog" concept was hard for me to explain but lately she gets it. I had to read your "bosses" posts to her tonight and what a laugh we had. She really perked up over the Granny story and the longline bras....just wanted to say "thanks" for giving us a good chuckle.

Mari Meehan said...

Wow, this is rich. I'm enjoying the comments as much as the original post! Keep it up ladies.