Tales from the front

There was a boy. A very screwed up boy. He tried to get me fired. Lost his job. Was so sad. (I'm thinking in the tune of one of the songs from Moulin Rouge right now. Sorry- slight digression into sappiness. Couldn't be helped)

He was a mess. I spotted it at 20 paces. Knew he'd be trouble the minute the soft-hearted (headed?) boss hired him. Within days I saw the signs. Smelled like pot after lunch. Had the shakes in the morning, after coming in very late. The sleek veneer wore off within a week. Not a good sign. Started to wear tattered clothes to client meetings. In Montana, that's not done. They still like their bankers to dress up. They like to feel like they are trusting their money to professionals. Artists are one thing, but they have expectations of the people who draw up the papers.

Then he decided to take me out. He was nasty. I knew what he was doing. He wasn't subtle about it. I handled it. I had allies. They knew what I was capable of doing for them. They knew that he was a sinking ship. The boss was still clueless. It was an ugly, painful time. Lots of nasty snipes in my direction. Lots of little tantrums.

Then someone quit. I took on her job. And really owned it. It was such a good fit. Better than anything else. The only bad part was that he was still around poisoning the water supply. But he didn't matter- every day the cracks were showing more clearly than before. The boss couldn't ignore the complaints from clients. He couldn't ignore the missed meetings, and the really poorly executed contracts. And he couldn't ignore that the broken boy was taking the intern out to smoke at lunch. And the boy got cocky. He told me to my face, with a witness present that he had tried to get me fired. He couched it in what he probably saw as complimentary terms- to say that I was doing a good job, and deserved it now. Whatever, dude.

Of course the end was ugly- the boss couldn't handle it, and totally choked. It was drawn out, and we all got involved at his insistence. I told him to never, never put me in a situation like that again. It was probably the most uncomfortable thing I've witnessed- the gutting of a coworker, in front of everyone, with everyone's participation required. As much as I hated the boy then, I didn't have the stomach for watching an eviceration like that. Much less taking part. Finally, after an hour or so of discomfort, I asked the question. "Why are you still here? What are you doing? You don't seem to want the job anymore, what the hell are you trying to accomplish?" I told him that he needed to examine these questions, and decide what was best for himself. Seriously- it's just a fucking job. And if it was that bloody painful, wasn't it time to get the hell out? Especially since he wasn't doing it well at all?

One of the other people there criticized me later for being so blunt. But you know, I stand behind my actions. I was the only one who dared to express it directly. This wasn't the kind of guy who picked up on hints. He just didn't have those receptors. It was fucking sad as hell. I hated to see him self-destruct. It made me sick inside. And no, I didn't have an impulse to save his sorry ass- I've seen that move backfire enough to know better. Besides, I did have a touch of a grudge, and wanted him to leave no matter what. I wanted him somewhere else, and not on my back anymore.

He got out- got a better job making more money (the little fucker) and is still there. I can hope that he's gotten a little straightened out. But I don't really care so much as long as he doesn't kill anyone while driving in the state we saw him in on occasion.

And all of the participants of that meeting, with the exception of the boss are gone now. No one is there to remind him not to hire that kind of guy. No one is there to tell him that those kinds of problems are his sole responsibility to solve. Sigh...

Moving along now...