The Devil Wears Shoulder Pads

About three weeks ago, I got an email asking for a story submission about a time "you knew you had to quit your job".   Well, I could not type fast enough.   But after uncovering the fine print (requiring I provide a photo, my name and the company name), I was out.  If my story was published with that level of detail, the person I am about to describe would somehow find out.  And she'd surely kill me.  And probably all of you for (kind of) knowing me.
 
But since I hate wasting a good story.....

"People are crying" is how I described our office environment to my boss.  Poor guy went on unexpected medical leave only a few weeks after my arrival and I tried to be sympathetic. After all, he did bring me there with a level of positivity that few people ever have about a job.  And I actually do like him (oddly enough I work for him again now).  But I was at the end of a very short ledge and, unless I left, I'd surely make the news for doing something drastic.  If I recall correctly, one of my dearest friends gave him a friendly "FUCK YOU" when they met at my wedding. It was hard on everyone.

My torture at this mid-sized Insurance Company lasted 6 long months.  In his absence, I was left in the death grip of a woman who had the chemical makeup of a serial killer. Allow me to paint a quick picture for you - she was a terrorist disguised as an early 90s daytime soap opera star.  Even if someone is brilliant, it's hard to take them seriously with shoulder pads sewn into every one of their outfits. She wore bright red lipstick and was that scary pale only a woman with poison flowing through her veins could be.

So yeah, kind of like this - but she was 10x as horrible of a person. 

And I mean horrible like razor blades in Halloween candy horrible.  In my time spent there, one position turned over 3 times.  3 TIMES.  I don't remember most names/faces after blocking out the memories but at least 10 people quit our department while I was there.  One of which was my friend who left in about 6 weeks.  It was not for the faint of heart.

Sometimes grown women would break down crying in my office.   I'd probably laugh a little at them if didn't also cry myself.   Once after crashing into another driver on my way to work.  The woman I hit screamed at me for taking a second to look at the damage on my own car (probably a friend or relative of the soulless Nazi in my office).    Then once when I had to return to the building at 10pm in my pajamas on Halloween to make sure I locked the door after being the last one out.   With my luck a stapler would have gotten stolen and she'd revoke my bathroom privileges to teach me a lesson.  Not worth the risk.

A few other highlights included being asked to verify my coordinator was pregnant (this was an HR department), being whispered to in meetings with the appropriate things to say out loud, direction on the best font to use on my spreadsheets.  This was not my first job nor did I ever agree with the crap she was feeding me.  But it wasn't worth the energy of fighting back, especially since she typically loved to make you look dumb in a room full of colleagues. One of her victims sent anonymous hate mail to the office highlighting the irony in her ability to judge people while her son's name appeared in the local police blotter.

Always imagined it looking  like one of these scary ransom notes.  Wishful thinking.

The breaking point came when she verbally assaulted me because I was unable to dislodge one of her documents from my printer. I will never know why I was personally responsible for her printing needs but clearly I was the worst possible choice.  I resigned a few weeks later and nobody really asked why.  And it was especially comfortable when she suggested an exit interview in her office.  I sat there sweating for about 45 minutes, confirming her suggestions as to why I was leaving while she wrote down every word.  Being on trial for murder would probably be less stressful.  I swear it probably said I loved it there and was just relocating to another country.

The best part of the entire story is that, years later, someone reported the department as a "hostile work environment" through the Whistleblower Hotline. This led to investigation and ultimately a forced resignation by our fearless leader.  

Last I heard she was employed by an alcoholic beverages distributor.  Since she is not at all fun (drunk or otherwise) I will make the assumption that decision makers were tipping the bottle during her interview process.