Tuesday, 13 November 2007

Hex The Boss

Now, some of you may remember that I wrote an educational post under a similar name a few months ago, but this post is to try to illustrate why I wish certain bosses would be hexed, as I have had a fair few clots in my time. The ones who spring to mind immediately are the crème de la crème of berks and I am sure that our two readers will be able to empathise with me in my descriptions of them.

My last boss, Bernard, was a jumped up, arrogant, little toe-rag who claimed that any woman (including me) fancied him, and that he had to ‘beat the women off with a stick’. Probably using their white canes, as a matter of fact.
It wasn’t just the fact that he didn’t have a clue about my job and would thus attempt to humiliate me in front of clients that makes me want to hex him; nor was it his turbulent, manic-depressive temper which made the other staff go into a huddle and try to work out if the temper was ready to explode or would just rumble away for a few more days.
It wasn’t even his constant boast that he attended an Oasis gig, needed to pee, urinated into a burst beach ball and lobbed it into the crowd where it drenched a young girl.

No, it was the fact that I rarely got any money out of him…

Salaries were never paid on time…Expenses? Don’t make me laugh. He still owes me around £100 for fees, petrol and bank charges for when he didn’t put my salary in to my account.

The first time I didn’t get paid on time, I was rather horrified to receive two snotty letters from my bank, charging me £60 for the privilege of having two direct debits bounce. When I diplomatically broached the subject of being paid on time with him, he took great umbrage, made me out to be a liar and gave me hell for the rest of the day.
The second time my salary wasn’t paid on time, I was left stranded over a long Bank Holiday weekend, penniless, with no response from him to my increasingly urgent voice mails which culminated in the question, ‘Where’s my f*cking salary?’ The next day, I didn’t even have enough money to fill my car up with petrol to get to work. It was only when I didn’t turn in that he decided to answer my calls. I had that day off deducted from my holiday entitlement…

A female boss of my acquaintance – let’s call her Bridget, because that is her name, and a nastier woman you could never meet - possessed the most revolting personal habits known to man. Everybody knows someone who picks their nose and eats it, but have you ever watched someone, in deep concentration, hook a whopping piece of earwax from their ear and chew on that? I felt my jaw seize up with the shivers when I caught her at it. She would adjourn to the Ladies, perform her ablutions, and leave, without ever washing her hands…When she had a cold, she found it hilarious to sneeze all over my predecessor’s work station – poor old Lou, who had suffered with an immuno-deficiency virus in her earlier years, was constantly off sick with colds and stomach upsets. When Lou decided she had had enough putting up with the Muppet Show and left without a job to go to, Bridget’s reference to potential employers made a major point of her sick leave, and Lou left each interview jobless…

Bridget’s husband, Mario, was equally as nasty. An egotistical, jumped up little oik, who claimed to have killed a King Cobra with his bare hands: he informed me on a number of occasions that he was ‘available’. After the third occasion, when I quite firmly told him that he was way too married for my liking, the atmosphere in the office suddenly became quite frosty.

Non-contractual demands were soon made of me, which I was totally unable to fulfil, and warnings of sackings dished out left, right and centre. I attempted to beat them at their own game, and succeeded in passing an exam with flying colours, despite not having studied for it in the stipulated minimum of 90 days – taking it after 44. This still wasn’t good enough and at the end of my probation, I was told that I didn’t quite cut the mustard. I did what all good Hexers do: bunged a load of laxatives into their drinks and breezed out and off to home where I proceeded to apply for every job advertised and was back in work within two weeks. For the next two weeks, they sat on the toilet, groaning…

One boss became a bit of a fling. I have mentioned him before in the excommunicated priest guise. For some very odd reason, I fancied him like mad, despite the massive age difference, and obviously, being a single 40-something, he was quite taken by the attentions of a 19 year old. When I realised he was interested, I stupidly, and mercilessly, dumped my stalwart boyfriend, who was heartbroken and called my mother every day, begging her to dissuade me from my actions. Her response was to tell me what I HAD to do: I did the opposite, so she sent me to Coventry (for our American reader, this means you don’t speak) for weeks. After meeting the boss (another Bernard) in Birkenhead Shopping Centre where he had attempted to look ‘trendy’ by wearing trainers (always a no-no in Agnes’s book), a sweatshirt and tight jeans, I knew this was not the Man For Me…particularly when he proceeded to compare the shape of my legs against former girlfriends…

When I quite gently told him that I didn’t think I wanted this to go any further (dear reader, it ventured no further than a furtive grope and lots of Confession), he got rather spiteful and reduced my lunch hour, denied me my study leave, and generally made my life hell. He fell very ill, and during his hospitalisation, I found another job and left without a trace. I was, however, rather sad to learn, two years ago, that he had actually died of the same condition…so he shall, despite his bitterness, remain unhexed.

My current boss is a broad Yorkshireman who says what he thinks, without any allusions to grandeur. He is shorter than me, standing at around 5’ 7”, whereas I am 5’ 7.5” (and that extra ½ inch is very precious to me!). He probably also weighs twice my weight. He is foul-mouthed, but finds it hilarious in that he has met his match with me. He brings out the worst in me – and I love it!

I think I may have found the boss of my dreams!

13 comments:

Mark Dykeman said...

Nay, nay, hex not thine boss! Forsooth!

Ooo, that was fun.

Enjoy the new slave driver.

Stealth said...

"let’s call her Bridget, because that is her name, and a nastier woman you could never meet"

ROTFLMAO!!

Linda and her Surroundings said...

Having a great boss is worth getting out of bed for each morning.

My worst boss was my father.

Anyone after that was a dream.

Agnes Mildew said...

Mark: He certainly is a slave driver, but he makes me roar laughing, so it cuts both ways, doesn't it?!

Stealth: Oooh! She was a rotten cow and it gave me great pleasure to give her such drastic colonic irrigation!

Agnes Mildew said...

Linda: I had forgotten all about parents, actually. Perhaps your father and my mother should hook up. Together they could keep psychiatrists in jobs for life...

Hawk said...

This was a ducky post, love!

Toe-rag and other wonderful descriptors just made me laugh so damn hard, I had to run to the lou before I saturated the carpet. You are aboslutely hilarious and delightful story teller. My visits always here always results in a smile.

My regrets dear lady for not commenting sooner. I've been catching between activities through my reader, so now I'm here shake my feathers a bit.

It's good to know you now have someone decent you are working with. Doesn't sound like your typical 'job' (Jackass Of the Boss)! LOL -

Good for you!

Keli said...

Oh dear! It's tough isn't it, to be a beautiful woman in the working world!
May I add my hex to all temperamental/insane/idiot bosses and their ilk: may their jobs be taken over by women who make thrice their salaries and double their benefits. Oh, and said ex and hexed bosses must be made to work for aforesaid women at little or no pay.

Matt Chingduvé said...

If I were a cannibal, I'd eat my boss.

alcoment said...

It sounds like we've had some of the same bosses! My present boss is not too bad at all and takes my sarcasm and swearing in good humour, even if it's aimed at him! Plus, he gives as good as he gets.

I also popped over to award you with the Be The Blog award. I can't seem to get a link to it to work (it's obviously the computer's fault and not mine!), so will have to ask you to swing by mine to pick it up.

thewishfulwriter said...

Bastard bosses. I've had my fair share.

My favorite was the one who told me I was naive for wanting to plan special events for fundraisers...yet, at the next board meeting (when they asked why we weren't planning any special events), my boss said "well, Heather's the marketing person and I keep trying to convince her they are a good idea. Perhaps she's still too green..." Um. I was IN the meeting.

Grrr.

Agnes Mildew said...

Hawk: You do fly hither and thither, don't you? Glad to see you dropping by still!

Keli: Oh yes. My sentiments exactly. And if all goes according to our cunning plan, who knows who'll be next PM of Great Britain and el Prez of the US...Today, blogger.com; tomorrow, The World! I should insert an evil laugh here, but I don't know how to write one out...

Matt: I think she would give you heartburn by the sounds of it.

Alcoment: Many thanks! I shall drop by forthwith and do the necessary! Very good of you.

Wishful: He sounds like a boss who truly deserves to be hexed. When he leaves, remember to give him the dyslogy he deserves...

Mark Dykeman said...

Dear Agnes:

Please write more posts. I am starting to go through withdrawal.



Sincerely,


The Uncanny Broadcasting Brain

Anonymous said...

May I hex my current, bi-polar, ungrateful, condescending, gossip mongering, publicly humiliating, nasty as all get-out boss? She is truly a harpy, spawned from Satan himself. Could seriously give Bridget a run for her money. I can't believe I left a good boss for this one (yes I'm still kicking myself over it, even tho the money was so much more).

This made me smile after the week I've had so far...and it's only Tuesday!

I'm secretly wishing something awful on her...

Criminally Mundane