Muffled cries came from the other room as I walked around the office, closing shutters and turning off lights. I paused halfway through a light dimmer, confused by what sounded like a cat meowing sadly. It came again, more clearly, someone calling out to me for help.
Cautiously, I walked to my office, not sure what I would find waiting for me. It was a sorry sight indeed – my boss, trapped inside her jersey, unable to find the arm-hole. Given up from exhaustion, she just stood there, praying and hoping someone would hear her cries and rescue her.
My heart broke and I rushed over to help set her free, both of us sighing with relief as her head emerged into daylight from the confines of her Woolies sweater. Please, no need to call me a hero. You can bet ‘saving bosses from complicated clothing’ is going on my CV, though.
A couple of weeks earlier, my other boss and I stood mutually hating on someone or other because of the bad service they were giving us. Us! Their sole and most important clients!
A few days pass, my boss walked up to me, and requested in all calmness, but with that tell-tale manic look in his eyes: “G, I need you to walk in there, drop your laptop on their desk, and go crazy. Have fun with it. Froth at the mouth a bit. Go absolutely wild.”
Needless to say, I walked in and politely asked the service provider to fix the problem, or I would have to have a conversation with his manager. Quick fix, all done, walk back into the office to look into those slightly manic eyes.
“I threw the biggest bitch fit, Bren, you would have been so proud! It was so liberating!” We laugh and the day was saved. Another day, another boss satisfied with my timely and efficient execution of his crazy-by-proxy.
Then there was that time he asked me to get an image of a giant penis printed as a gag gift for a friend. Yep. Size A3. “Three copies, please, Garret”. I walked into the print store with my USB stick, passing the kindly ladies at the front desk, straight to the elderly gent who owned the store.
“Sir, this is a bit awkward, but…I need to print a penis,” I say to him.
“What was that, sorry?” he replied. He had heard me the first time, I knew he had, that twinkle in his one eye told me so.
“I need to print a penis, sir. A3, three copies, on the hardest board you have.”
He laughs as I blush, and he hands the job over to Kindly Lady #1 at the front desk. She was cool about it, except for the red tint to her cheeks mirroring my own. And she was particularly careful not to show the prints to the three other women standing in the queue waiting to be served.
A few months into my first career, and I am feeling unbelievably satisfied and stimulated. Everyone here wants to see me develop as a young careerist in the best way possible. It’s not limited to that though.
One day, I was standing in the common area, when my boss beckoned me outside with a hushed “Come here.” I thought, what insane adventure am I being sent on this time. What he said took me by such surprise, it brought tears to my eyes.
He asked me who paid for the maintenance of my car, and I told him that I don’t really think about it because I can’t afford anything car-related right now. He said, take the business card, and go buy yourself four new tires – you’re gonna kill yourself on those burnt out things.
Such care in that one little allowance, money that was small change to him, but my life that mattered. It was a touching gesture, and my appreciation is immense.
But I digress from the crazy. I was a few months into this career track, and I stood at the creative studio desk asking our introverted designer to do something for me.
Boss, sitting with his headset on, turned to me and said, “G, if he doesn’t get it done soon, I want you to sit on his lap until he’s finished. He’ll love that, it’s his favourite thing.”
Which of course, it wasn’t, the poor, skittish chap. Pure brilliance on my boss’s part – encourage sexual harassment to achieve a faster outcome. The technique should be documented in Forbes Magazine.
I wake up everyday excited to come to work. Through a break-up with a long term partner, looking for my own place to live for over three months, and dealing with the death of my dad and trying help my mom cope, this house has kept me sane, has kept me distracted by dedication.
I’ve got people to talk to about my problems. I’ve got people who understand that a bad mood isn’t a bad attitude, and who give me space when I need it. I’ve got people who won’t accept anything less than excellence from my performance, because they believe that I’m capable of it.
And it always makes me feel warm and fuzzy to find people in the world who are just as crazy as I am.
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