Monday, September 19, 2011

my old job

So I haven't much talked about my old job. 

The one that I hated and the one that made me cry most days. 

I hated that place.  Hated. I don't use the word "hate" very often, but this place deserves it.

Luckily my current job is great and the people that I work with are awesome, especially compared to most of the nutjobs at my last place of employment.

Recently, this random guy found out about my previous employment at my last job on Linked In and was considering taking a position with the company.  He wanted my take on the place.

I was brutally honest with him and told him that it was quite possibly the worst place that I had ever worked at and to not take the job.  I told him that I didn't think there was an amount of money worth it to move to Kansas from California to make this place worth the move.  Not only were (most of) the people I worked straight up crazy, but my boss was the most rediculous man I have ever encountered. (he didn't take the job, btw)

The old boss, we'll call him Doug, for kicks (oh wait, that's his real name...), would always be on the phone, most commonly screaming at the person on the other end.  He would also take the person on the phone on field trips to the bathroom while on the phone. 

As luck would have it my desk was within earshot of the bathroom.  So not only would I get to hear Doug moaning while taking a poo, but I could also get caught up on the latest happenings of the business because of his habit of talking on the phone while in the shitter.

Even though Doug is in his late 50's I would guess...he would attempt to dress like a 20-something, most likely to pick up the ladies' in the 20-something age range.  Because, ya know, girls that age want to date someone who could be their dad, right? (And for some reason they actually did date him...he would give them an expensive car to drive and take them shopping often, but who's asking?)

Tight button-up shirts that showed off his nipples were common along with expensive denim and these pointy-elf like shoes that made his feet look ginormous.  Because the shirts were often a smudge too tight, he would often pop open a button thus exposing his belly button.  Such a treat.

Doug would also come back from lunch, sit in my office and pick his teeth or his fingernails with my scissors or a post-it note that he'd find on my desk.

For Christmas one year I gave him a manicure set and some dental floss and he didn't understand why.

I should have known from my very first interview that this place was going to be a train-wreck waiting to happen.

First of all the "HR" manager was wearing skin tight denim jump suit with Louis Vuitton  logos all over it.  Now, I'm not sure, but I don't think that was an original Louis Vuitton garment...

Second of all, while in my interview Doug was asking about how I handled working with different people.  I, of course said that working with different people was no problem for me.  To which he replied: "Good.  Because you'll be working with Grace and she's a F-ING B*TCH." 

Tell me, why didn't I just get up and leave right then? 

Instead, I stuck it out for a little over a year at that place.

The few of us that did get along made the place as fun as we could and came up with a lot of stories and activities to keep us busy.

...And, a lot of Family Fued on the internets.

Or we'd take an extra long lunch break downtown during March Madness to watch Basketball games.

Now, it may sound like we were a bunch of slackers, but we rarely could take lunch breaks away from our desks, let alone together, just in case the whole world were falling apart, and we needed to be by the phone.  We also worked longer hours, so our slacking off evened itself out. 

Would I do this stuff in a normal work-setting? Hell no.  But this was not a normal work setting.

One of my old coworkers somehow managed to stick it out at this place longer than most of she would send me stories occasionally, just to keep me entertained, here are a couple:

  • I just walked into Doug’s office, and he turns around and looks at me, with an enormous wad of toilet paper band-aided onto his face. He stepped out, presumably to use the toilet, and I asked Shaun what happened, to which he replied: He said that he was driving to work, and his face just started bleeding.  Riggghhhtt…I have a horrible time w my spontaneous face hemorrhaging as well. Can totally relate.
  • Johanna. OH Johanna. I cannot put my bagel in the toaster in the morning, or my lean cuisine in the microwave at lunch, without her 6 course Julia Childs meal spread out all over kingdom come. This morning, she was busy splaying out a collection of jelly, butter and cream cheese for her English muffin, as well as a collection of juices, a 6 pack of eggs…I was like, what the sh*t? Eat at home. It’s so obnoxious. Lunch, she has an effing double-decker sandwich obviously planned, as she busts out enough sandwich material on the table to rival Subway.  I want to get into the silverware drawer, but there she stands, blocking it while she struggles with removing the lid to her rootbeer bottle. Drink coke, out of a can, like the rest of America.
  • Doug just sent me an email, asking me to “find a typewriter, and type it up.” Find a typewriter? What is this, 1915?
 Oh, how I miss that place for the good stories...

1 comment:

  1. oh my word!! sounds like a total nightmare. i'm glad you don't have to be there anymore.