Breaking B*ad
I rag on B a lot. He earned it.
He was cruel to everyone who can be arsed to remember him. Acted like he was smarter, richer, better than us all.
Definitely had more money than us. I see the house he paid $400k for is under contract for $1.2M.
That mofo always falls in shit and comes out smelling like roses. Won’t lie — I hate him for that. The luck, not the money.
Dude could BS his way into or out of anything. Even though I hated his guts, I kissed his flat ass to keep my job and enjoy an occasional perk.
One of the perks was working on Atlantic Avenue and seeing the beach once a month when I could swing a lunch break.
Only getting lunch once a month sucked. But grabbing BurgerFi or Pizza Rustica by the ocean made it worthwhile.
In any event, I’m currently halfway through a two-week PTO stint. Unlike past years where I forfeited that time, I decided to take two weeks for Thanksgiving and one week for Christmas.
I don’t think anyone above me is pleased with my scheduling choices. But it’s also not like I haven’t been selectively working and attending meetings.
That’s the thing. I’ve Marie Kondo’d my to-do list and meeting schedule. I provide direction to my staff, run away and let them do it. Is it to my liking? More or less. Did I do the right thing by LETTING them do their job? Absotoothly.
(Oh yeah, wisdom teeth coming out today and tomorrow. Whee.)
Anyway, I got to thinking about B. He would force us to sit on a “monring” call for an hour every day. Then you’d never see him again because he couldn’t be bothered to come into work unless it was to poop in the bathroom that I was somehow responsible for cleaning.
I always said his wife kept his balls in his purse. And he stayed home in hopes that he could go steal them out of her handbag.
In any event, the one thing I appreciated about B — beyond the satellite office that I was pretty much the sole occupant of, even if I wasn’t allowed to work from home — was that he left me alone.
I worked hard. I worked A LOT. And I missed out on a ton of life events and social engagements and TIME OFF.
By choice, of course. I blame no one but myself for that.
He would always skip the “ediotrial” (sigh) call (our 1:1). So I was free to do my work in the way I saw fit after we hung up from that often-rambling group call.
In any event, I was just telling someone that I gained a new appreciation for B this week.
I work for an hour, maybe two.
I check in on those who need it.
I answer questions and provide direction and share stuff I gleaned from other conversations.
You know, like I usually do for 8-10 hours a day, every day. But, abbreviated.
Then I go fuck off and let everyone do their jobs and then I go enjoy my life for a goddamn minute.
If this is ACTUALLY what being a director is, I need to do this all the time. But with filling up the other six hours a day with real work — i.e., not inane meetings and putting out fires and reminding people of things they should know by now.
Anyway, today goes down in history as the day I started to loathe B less.
I mean, I wish I was making his salary to work two hours a day for five years.
But, I’m OK making mine as long as I can do the wild things I’m doing like CLEANING THE HOUSE and GOING TO THE DENTIST.
Seriously, I have been deep-cleaning this place for a week and I’m only halfway done, yeesh.
So, no, Cindy, I don’t have some “unemployed relative” doing it for me. How about send your maid over here if you pity me so much.
I have two getaways planned for next year. So I won’t get this trough of time off for the holidays. I mean, unless I channel my inner B and go take all my industry contacts to lunch and call it networking.
Hey, now there’s an idea …