Thursday, October 13, 2005

My memory is shit.


But I will never forget the worst working experience I've ever had.

I had this boss, right? He looked like David Hasselhoff (ewwww!), had all the brains of a bag of ferrets, all the human kindness and grace of Yersina Pestis, and the humility of Caligula.

This guy was in his 50's, but had had plastic surgery to make him look younger. His ego required that he stay in decent shape, so I will give him credit for working out and staying relatively healthy and avoid mid-life flab, but you could see the terror of aging pretty clearly through the filmy-thin layer of health-consciousness. He would refuse to wear his glasses, because that would have added a year or two onto his looks, and he just couldn't have that. So I would have to take all of his e-mails (which he refused to learn how to use), copy and paste them into a Word document, and blow up to 16 point BOLD, so that he could read them without corrective eyewear.

He routinely dated women in their early 20's, in itself not a crime, nor something that would even offend me, had he not been cynical enough to do it just because he could, knowing that they were really in it for professional advancement and exposure in the field and not from any great feeling of actual attaction and warmth. Am I naive? I guess that's the way of the world, but it does leave a nasty taste in the mouth.

One time, he had a party at his house, at department expense, even after the money had run out and even though an aunt of mine had died and I was contemplating going to Maine that night for the funeral the next day, or at least just going home to make some calls to family and feel sad for a bit, I had to go to this party, because HIMSELF WASN'T GOING TO BE HOME FOR THE BOOZE DELIVERY, EVEN THOUGH I'D TOLD HIM EVERY DAY FOR A WEEK THAT THE BOOZE WOULD BE DELIVERED BETWEEN 5 AND 6PM. And then, when I got there, HE WAS FUCKING THERE, EVEN THOUGH HE SAID HE HAD A MEETING AT HIS OTHER OFFICE AT THAT TIME.

Oh, and then, I had to go out and buy toilet paper in the middle of the party. This grown-up man had run out of fucking toilet paper and I had to go buy it.**

But all this wouldn't cause me to hate the man so much as pity him.

No, it was the sense of entitlement that he oozed that made me hate him.


Oh, and the house full of "arty" photograhs of naked nubiles. That was pretty gross, too.



**My friends will tell you this is one of my biggest pet peeves. If you have people coming to your house to drink, make sure you have fucking bog paper, you asshole.

11 Comments:

Blogger mrshife said...

Sounds like a real douche bag.
Yes, indeed, butt wipe is something that should always be handy when hosting a party.
And I believe there is a David Hasselhoff epidemic going on in the blog world. Is there a shot for that?

13 October, 2005 12:52  
Blogger Andraste said...

That's only the tip of the iceberg. Maybe I'll do a running series... I worked for the guy for a year, and I'm still bitter.

13 October, 2005 12:54  
Blogger Andraste said...

As for David Hasselhoff, I just wanted to get him and Yersina Pestis into the same post. Little challenges like that keep the brain young, doncha know!

13 October, 2005 13:03  
Anonymous stephenesque said...

What they from the Alma-Tadema/Bouguereau dirty old painter man school of naked nubiles? Or just soft-focus photographs.

13 October, 2005 13:21  
Blogger Andraste said...

Mappelthorpe for the "Teen Glamour" set.

One or two I wouldn't even object to. I happen to like gargoyles, but one or two for accent is enough.

This was a frigging THEME. Oy.

13 October, 2005 13:26  
Blogger El Barbudo said...

With no fucking bog-paper, you should have gone into his bedroom and used his clean shirts. He'd never make that fucking mistake again!

13 October, 2005 16:02  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

If simply working for him left a bad taste in your mouth, just imagine the foul, stagnant cesspool like taste he must have left in the mouths of those who dated him in the name of career advancement...

13 October, 2005 17:14  
Blogger Andraste said...

He left a trail of it, I'm sure.

Eugh.

13 October, 2005 17:38  
Blogger LindyK said...

What kind of guy runs out of sodding bog paper?! That's usually one of the two things you can count on in any guy's house: bog paper and beer. Maybe the creeping up of age ransacked his memory... hm.

13 October, 2005 20:33  
Blogger fatmammycat said...

Ary, you have to do a series on that fucking hobgoblin. Sounds postively vile.

14 October, 2005 03:49  
Blogger LBseahag said...

That tool sounds like a great candidate for Weekend at Bernie's

14 October, 2005 07:26  

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