Walking through the park and reminiscing

I hated that song. Really hated it. Part of the sappy side of the 70s. (alliteration- before noon, even!)

I was reading about the nanny vs. op-ed columnist wars yesterday. For some reason (about to come clear if you read on) the whole thing bugged the hell out of me. I don't really need to weigh in on who did the dumbest, nastiest thing in the battle- there's a good article on Slate.com about it if you're really interested.

But for the record, I've only blogged about a former employer once- and that was with some very heavy soul-searching on my part. I believe that discretion- paranoia even- is smart with the internet. I try very hard to protect my friends and loved ones and their privacy. Not to mention myself. So I don't expect to ever start blogging about work. Or at work. Neither seems like a good move.

And now on to why the story bothered me so much. Back in the day- right around the time I graduated with my 2nd and 3rd degrees, I was a research assistant for a famous woman. She was very celebrated in a field I was associated with. I was told on numerous occasions how lucky I was to have my position. I kept my opinion of that to myself then. It was really hard, though. The whole situation still leaves a bitter afterglow.

She was a mess. Emotionally, physically and spiritually (If I may be so bold.) Her spouse had died a few months before I started, and she was having serious problems coping. One of her kids had moved home after a nasty divorce, bringing a couple of very screwed up small children into the mix. There was absolutely no sense of appropriate boundaries. Anywhere.

I was being paid a pittance (trust me- chump change given the woman's net worth- and since I opened her mail, I knew what that was), and expected to babysit her, her grandkids, clean up from parties (that of course, I wasn't invited to), and research (as well as wrap Christmas presents and ship them, go to the ATM for her and numerous other crappy stuff). At the time I knew that it was stupid, but I didn't see a good out. And I didn't want her mad at me- I thought she could do some serious damage.

I discovered the mindset that I had never seen in my life- that of having hired help who are inferior. And I was that help. It really cut me to the core. I had been an RA for a couple of other people in the past and never felt this kind of disdain directed towards me. It was ugly. She went on numerous trips, and I kept the home fires burning. Luckily Spouse became my excuse to escape in the evening and go home. He made the mistake of coming up to her house once, and we wound up putting in a 16 hour day when she corralled us into babysitting duties. I felt much put-upon. And I do admit to not having a very professional attitude about the whole thing- I wasn't prepared. I didn't know that kind of situation existed.

So finally, when I found a stack of pornographic photos of her kid's ex-spouse on the hallway floor, I had had enough. It was too fucking creepy. And she hadn't even acknowledged Christmas- with card, gift, bonus- nada. That probably hurt more than anything else. So I basically told her that I would need to get a job that paid more, as I had to repay student loans.

She hired a couple of new chumps, and life went on. I felt lucky to have escaped. She didn't even mention me in the acknowledgements of a book I helped write. I stand assured that she probably doesn't even remember my name. The bitch. Yeah- I'm still bitter. And I have sworn to myself a couple of things- I will NEVER treat anyone working for me or with me with that kind of selfish disregard. I will always respect their boundaries. And I will NEVER be the "hired help" for some rich self-indulgent person again. It was a horrible experience, and I learned. And I'm thankful that it's over.

So yes, I have broken a rule about blogging about employers past. But I feel better for it.