9 to 5, yeah

I’m good at my job. I know this about myself like I know my eyes are brown and that I tan easily. I may not be a model employee (sometimes I blog during the day…eh hem) but overall I get my stuff done – and it’s done well. I don’t sleep under my desk (Officemate does this) and I don’t steal supplies from the closet down the hall, at least not on purpose.

Folks like me on the job from 9 to 5.

I applied for a promotion about six months ago. I didn’t get it. I’ve gotten over being disappointed about that. But ever since, a boss that I respected and liked – has gone out of her way to be anything but polite and supportive of me and my work.

You would think that I
Would deserve a fat promotion
Want to move ahead
But the boss won't seem to let me
I swear sometimes that (wo)man is out to get me

With most people around the office, she giggles and smiles, laughing over weekend plans and accepting “I don’t know” as an answer. With me? Not so much. She takes a tone with me that my mother used when I was thirteen. This doesn’t make for a pleasant environment as she’s not my mother and I’m not thirteen. The coworkers I’m friendly with have asked me repeatedly if there’s something going on. If I’m okay. They give me pity stares in meetings after I ask questions and get a “that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard” response from her. Because I sit directly outside of her office, these disparities are resoundingly obvious throughout the day.

You're in the same boat
With a lotta your friends
Waitin' for the day your ship'll come in

I’ll give you an example.

Last week her assistant, Officemate, left early for the day. In his rush out the door, he asked me to complete a very simple project that my boss needed quickly: look up these four people and add their addresses and phone numbers to the list I’ve already started. Then forward to boss.

I did what was asked. It took me about ten minutes. I forwarded.

They just use your mind
And they never get you credit

Two minutes later. My boss brought me a printout of the list. She’d written all over it.

“Can you please make these changes?” she asked, huffing.

“Sure.” I looked at the list. My four additions hadn’t been marked. Officemate however, had made typos and formatting errors throughout the document. My boss had found all of them.

Had I checked for his mistakes? No. Do I feel bad about that? No. Is it my job to do his work for him? No. I made the changes and resent.

What a way to make a livin'

Another two minutes. She handed me another sheet of paper. She’d circled one C in DC. It was lowercased. I’d made a small typo. Shit.

“Does this concern you?” she asked as she leaned over the front of my desk.

“Um… Excuse me?”

“Does this concern you?” I could have circled with a fat red marker the unwritten condescension in her question.

“Um…I’m not sure what you’re asking.” I know I looked confused. I was confused.

“I’m not being facetious. Does this concern you??” Her eyebrows were raised. I tried to back away slowly.

“Well – Officemate instructed me to add these four names to the list. I did that. I didn’t check his work for errors. I assumed he’d done things correctly. You also expressed to me how urgent the document was, and in my rush I made a typo. I’m sorry. I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

“Fix it please and send it back to me.” Her tone was flat. Cold. She stomped back into her office.

They got you where they want you
There's a better life
And you think about it, don't you

I was angry. I went to the roof for a cigarette. I paced. I wanted to scream. And I've been fuming a little ever since.

Until today.

Today, I was CC’d on an email she sent to the head of a large corporation. One sentence in particular caught my attention:

The eight guests from [large corporation] will be seated downstairs and there tickets will be held for a representative to pick up the day before.

There.

There.

Their!!!!

Does this concern me? Nope. Am I delighted, and walking around the office with an overwhelming but very silent feeling of personal satisfaction?
Hell yes.

Dolly’s right.

It’s enough to drive you crazy if you let it.