If you’ve read a previous post about my bosshole, you know a little of our history. If you haven’t, that’s ok – here’s the short of the long: he’s an arrogant, alcoholic adulterer. Otherwise, I like working for him. Really, he has some redeeming qualities that make him tolerable sometimes, such as his pleasant, humorous demeanor during his current health stint where he hasn’t drank in two weeks. What a hero.
I have been admittedly distracted at work for various reasons; I’m going through a drawn out break-up with my spousehole, I’d rather be writing or something equally creative for a living, and Bosshole has really been getting on my nerves these days because it’s becoming increasingly harder to hold him in high esteem. Our mutual boss, who we’ll call “Mr. Slate”, caught on to my mood last week and was kind enough to take me aside to ask what’s up my craw. I tried to dance around it stating I wasn’t challenged enough at work lately, but he saw through me like Wonder Woman’s airplane. And then the secrets that I’d been holding onto for three years came out like a tsunami. I told him everything about how often Bosshole shows up at the office wasted to the trips he takes with his HR mistress all courtesy of the company. Initially, I felt such a douche for ratting Bosshole out. I felt like I was weak for not being able to contain myself; for leaking like a sphincter after an Olestra binge.
But then the relief came. The quandary is now Mr. Slate’s to deliberate, not mine. The itchy monkey on my back had been ejected. Hallelujah.
People on Quora, including an HR professional, had advised me to seriously consider quitting when the behaviour of such a person as Bosshole is tolerated. I tried and the job hunt didn’t go so well. For now, I’m glad it didn’t. All I had to do was drop the holier-than-thou loyal assistant nonsense and just tell someone with integrity the truth. I wish I’d done it a long time ago, as it would’ve spared me months of internal grief. Other people’s sullied secrets are the baggage of the subservient.
Mr. Slate promised that he’ll never throw me under the bus and was empathetic about what it must have been like for me to have to deal with day in and day out. He also said it wouldn’t be a witch hunt on Bosshole – just that moving forward he’ll keep his eyes open. But then he mulled over it over the weekend and started feeling foolish for not noticing all of the signs of the drinking and affairs. He subsequently came in on Monday morning ready to tear Bosshole a new ***hole. That’s when I got motioned into a private room for a cautioning (so principal’s office like).
“You know, Imu, there is one thing that’s been bothering me all weekend and I lost sleep over it.” <stomach drops> “Shame on you for getting so buddy buddy with Bosshole that he felt he could divulge his infidelities to you. Do you understand the message here? What are you doing putting yourself in a position where he confesses his sins to you? He’s your supervisor, not your friend. Make the line between you very clear. It’s not just professionally shrewd for managers to not get too up close and personal with their subordinates – the same goes the other way around. Look at the load it put on you. I hope I’m not speaking out of turn. It’s just that I value you, you deserve to be respected and you should require that of others.”
Duly noted, sir. Duly noted.
The man who can keep a secret may be wise, but he is not half as wise as the man with no secrets to keep. – E.W. Howe