The OTHER Other Woman

May 23, 2014 — 136 Comments

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I can’t even LOOK at her.

She’s The Other Woman.


The one who causes me to lie awake nights, wondering what went wrong, and when, and is there still time to mend things?

She’s the one who is quite a bit younger, of course, less likely to blare out her opinions unless asked, less likely to have opinions, a quality that some men seem to find desirable.

A girl really, just barely out of her teens.

I can see her sipping cocktails with her Generation Y girlfriend, their faces glowing over the phosphorescent green of apple martinis.

“Why should I feel guilty,” she would say, “I didn’t do anything.”

That’s the part I find amazing. No guilt whatsoever.

The Other Other Woman.

My Assistant.



It began innocently enough.

I was working as the Executive Assistant for the president of the largest executive search firm in Manhattan.

My boss, Mr. P, was an impatient, frenzied, self-important man prone to sharp delusions of grandeur.

A loathsome creature who’d made too many millions at too early an age to smooth off the rough edges.

A. Freaking. Lunatic.

His Super Power was hurling inanimate objects at me when he became upset.

Over anything.

“I’ve been waiting on the confirmation email for an hour now, and – ”

*whistling sound while a stapler flies just past the side of my head*

I learned Duck and Cover in the corporate world.


Assisting him was a Herculean task.

Supporting his department – a group of 20-something young men designed in His image – was impossible.

And so it was decided I would hire an assistant.


I let the candidates know the boss was “difficult” (a human resources euphemism for deranged fucksqueak).

During my interview, the human resources director had failed to mention that Mr. P behaved as if he’d ingested a psychotropic drug designed to make him believe he was God.

The first job candidate sent to me was Rose.

I was underwhelmed by Rose’s lackluster demeanor and her disheveled appearance.

But I was in need of an assistant – ASAP – and she was available.


I was thrilled.

I finally had another female to help me balance all that sweaty testosterone.

The young men who inhabited my department had adopted a machismo that served as a façade to cover their insecurities as relative newcomers to the Manhattan corporate world.

They were in their douche canoe primes;  the sort of 20-something men who eagerly consult Zagat’s to ferret out the trendiest restaurants.

They worshipped my boss, and were creating themselves in His image.

Which meant they were part “Corporate Bottom Feeder,” Part “Tool Box Yuppie.”

The office had the decorum of a frat house.

Unfortunately, I was disinterested in being their den mother, and at 31, too old to function as their groupie.


I grew fond of Rose.

She alleviated my workload and laughed at my jokes.

I re-invented her as quiet, not lackluster.

Working so closely to one another, it was only natural that our relationship would expand beyond work-related matters.

I was delighted to finally have someone to bond with at work.

A much needed workplace ally.

A friend.


True, I was 12 years her senior but our age difference was transcended by something much stronger.

We were bonded together by gender in a male-dominated environment.

My age and experience enabled me to function as her mentor, and I fell into the role easily.

I helped refined her image, taught her how to dress for work.

Explained to her that casual Friday meant cute cargo pants – not slutty club clothes.

I was an expert at disguising my true persona and pretending I was normal.


I coached her on every aspect of her performance.

Helped her with her grammar.

Taught her how to sound professional and approachable at the same time.

One afternoon Rose struggled with the head of IT to have her computer set up a particular way.

Afterwards, I let her in on my secret weapon – Finesse.

I patiently explained the finer points of finessing clients and co-workers: I made everyone with whom I interacted, inside the company and out, feel like a rock star.

That was the key to my success in the workplace, and how I had risen up the ranks so quickly.

I treated the janitor with the same respect I treated the CEO.

And because of that, people liked me and wanted to get things accomplished for me. Quickly.

Rose listened, she emulated, and she learned.

She rapidly developed into a junior clone of me.


In retrospect, I should have been alert to the signs of my ruination.

I can remember Rose at the Christmas party, hanging on all the men like a slutty elf.

I wrote it off to holiday spirit and alcohol.

I see her bantering with the young men in our department in a way that I found inappropriate but thought too trivial to discuss. I attributed it to her age.

At 20, she was far more likeable a mascot than I ever could have been.


Six months into our relationship, I felt an unpleasant shift of energy.

The guys in my department often socialized together after work, and I was never invited. Why would I be?

But Rose was young, single and a hell of a lot more attractive than when she first took the job.

Suddenly I was no longer her best pal.

True, even if they had invited me, I’d likely have declined.

My boss, the company president, did not want me socializing in trendy bars with the young men in our department.

But I felt abandoned by my new friend, and it stung.

I told myself, “Self, they’re her age, they have more in common, she still loves you, let it go.”

And I did.

Until the situation went from bad to really bad.


My boss’s  second-in-command, the Managing Director, had never liked me.

Corporate paranoia made him think I out to sabotage his position and his relationship with my boss.

Which was all him imagination, because unlike him, I gave zero fucks about this job.

Initially, Rose guarded me from his workplace delusions, always defending me steadfastly.

But one day, when he made a crude joke about me (which he did routinely), she laughed. Laughed at his making fun of me.

As she coyly giggled behind her hand, I knew something had changed in the office dynamics.

And then, on a lazy Friday afternoon, I watched her skip around his office watering his plants.

He typed contentedly as she lovingly tended to his greenery.

I knew instantly that they were sleeping together.

She had brought “finesse” to a whole new level.


I’d never done that.

(Well, there was that one time at a different job when I accidentally fucked my boss. Very different scenario.)


Now Rose was a full-fledged member of the boy’s club and barely spoke to me.

I was an IBM Selectric typewriter in a computerized world – old, obsolete, and scorned.

From the beginning, Mr. P strongly disliked Rose, something he made clear to me on a regular basis.

He was even more disgusted with her after finding out about her affair with his protégé.

He still valued me highly, and perhaps that should have been all that mattered.

But I’d had a taste of feminine companionship as a work buffer, and without it, I could no longer tolerate the group machismo.

And I was disgusted by the way I had let myself been sucked dry and then discarded by Rose.

So while she and the boys were out to lunch one day, I faxed my resume to a several recruiting companies, in search of a new work environment.

And then, the situation got even uglier.


For no apparent reason, Mr. P’s attitude abruptly changed.

The icy wind of his contempt was blowing on me- while he fell all over himself befriending Rose.    

I puzzled over his attitude toward me, until he called me into his office and accused me of disloyalty. 

He knew I was looking for another job, and even had the evidence to prove it – a copy of the fax transmittal sheet to my headhunters.

There was only one person in the office who had been in a position to find this damaging evidence and present it to him like my head on a platter.

My Rose had turned into a thorn.


I never even saw it coming. Or maybe I hadn’t wanted to.

Either way, I could not continue to sit at my desk, humiliated by the betrayal, with a fake smile plastered to my face, hated by my psychotic boss – who mistreated me when he LOVED me.

I immediately gave my notice.



Rose did not slide smoothly into my job, as she probably fantasized while stabbing me in the back.

Mr. P was forced to hire another more experienced, and yes, older woman.

Rose may have been 20, ruthlessly ambitious, without gratitude or loyalty for having been transformed from a waitress into an executive assistant  –

but she was not ME.


Have you ever been stabbed in the back by someone you thought was your friend? Or a work colleague?
What crazy bosses have you worked for?
Talk to me. I’m listening. 

136 responses to The OTHER Other Woman

    NotAPunkRocker May 23, 2014 at 6:35 am

    I need to write a crazy boss post. With as much stress I have with my current job, my boss is a good person. My last one, not so much. At all. Like, I called her a major C to her face (like that, not sure if she knew what c meant or not). Then I got treatment for my depression…good timing. .


      A “C”, Sheena! A major “C”?

      Damn, if you’re gonna go down you might as well say the whole word. Just think of how satisfying that would have been.

      Yes please. A crazy boss post!

        NotAPunkRocker May 23, 2014 at 7:28 am

        Well, in the same conversation I told her to shut the fuck up and to go fuck herself. A few times, actually.

        I didn’t want to press my luck. 🙂


        There’s nothing quite as satisfying as dropping an F bomb at work!

        Unless it’s at temple. Last Friday night someone’s phone went off during services. I accidentally blurted out, “what the fuck!”

        That felt kinda awesome.


    Did you internet-stalk Rose to see what she’s doing now?

    Please say yes.


      I love how you always have these little requests to confirm my craziness.

      “Did you fire bomb the office after you quit? Please say yes.”

      She still works there. The little bitch.


        And now, she has a little version of herself running around playing office groupie, and she’s ducking flying staplers.

        As the world turns…

        I’m glad you internet-stalked her. That was the right thing to do. You know, for the sake of authentic reporting.


        I hope one hit her in the head and killed her.

        No, really.


    Man, this is yet another reason why I’m glad I left the corporate world. But honestly, I’m more surprised at the idiots who lap the shit up rather than the backstabbers/cocksuckers/gameplayers…

    And speaking of cock sucking… ‘Well, there was that one time at a different job when I accidentally fucked my boss.’ We need to talk about this x


    There was the time I was working at the monastery and the new girl told the Abbot I was stoned during dorm duty because her boy toy liked to cook me elaborate dinners… Does that count?
    It never sounds as sexy as yours.
    (As always, an addictive post. Well played.)


      When I repeat back what you just wrote, it sounds TOTALLY sexy times, Jen!

      And intriguing. Every part of it. Was this real? Did you work at a monastery? Were you stoned? She really had a boy toy? And he COOKED for you?

      Well played, yourself! That comment is more interesting than my post!

      Thanks for reading and playing on my blog!


        Ha! I would not make up black robed monks. Trust me. And yes, the boy toy was an exceptional cook. And I wasn’t high. I was red-eyed and out of it because (wait for it…) my father had died the week before… while I was doing service work… in Appalachia… with kids from the school! Seriously. And I’m not even Catholic!! (I don’t curse but if I did I’d say “bitches and hoes.” Also I’m a feminist so I wouldn’t. But if I weren’t a feminist, “Bitches and hoes.”)


        Have you blogged about this? It’s fascinating!

        I’m a bad feminist. I totally say “bitch.” I have actually been admonished about this- by a male feminist, no less. Sigh.


    What a soul-suck. Glad you escaped.


      Right? Just barely.

      I honestly some of the worst behavior displayed is in corporate America.

      Thanks for saying hi, and for reading. I hope you have an amazing weekend.


    OH. MY. GOD. I would have cut a bitch. (not really, I’m quite passive aggressive and chicken shit when it’s me being effed over. But when it’s someone else I’m more apt to say something. but I really like to think I would cut a bitch, ya know?)

    That’s a crazy story, S! I did have an awful boss once. He was a genuine Dr. Jekyl/Mr. Hyde type. He was very bad at drawing the line between “friends” and “empoyees” so subsequently he didn’t garner much respect….unless he was pissed. If he was pissed the rants were downright intimidating! He called me a cunt once. A bitch. A dumb-ass. And not just me. The F-bombs flew when he was angry. He was very tall, which added to the intimidation.

    Another issue with him was his immaturity. Very emotionally explosive, yes, but also he was WAY too flirtatious with staff, including me. No. ESPECIALLY me. I had worked there longer than any female at that point. Six years. I started as wait staff, moved to bartender, and my last year there worked alongside him in management. That didn’t last long. I quit after a year.

    I remember around my 4th year there, he offered me $80 to show him my boobs.

    Let that sink in.


      HOW DARE HE!

      They’re worth at least $200.

      Did he really call you the C word? That’s low, even for a despicable boss.

      I love to say “cut a bitch.” And I’m aggressive-aggressive. So I’d probably do it.
      You could, too. We’ll cut a bitch together. It will be a bonding moment.


        Hell, if he’d thrown me some decent cash I might’ve done it. These boobs should be doing something more useful anyway. I was a starving college student after all. 🙂

        I believe wholeheartedly you would cut a bitch. *gets knife* I’m ready when you are, sistah. Let’s bond away.


        It appears that Aussa has some bitches that might need cutting.,

        They are messing with her at work. And I’m older now, and braver!


        And, yes to the C word. More than once. When he was angry he called everyone everything. It was not unlike him to rip into the whole staff, calling us all stupid fucks and such. He was a giant man-child in every sense of the word. His rants were like tantrums. He could/did get away with it because a few hours later he’d be drinking with us and all buddy-buddy, ya know? Very gray area.


        Very schizophrenic is what THAT is. Mood swings out the ying yang.

        I hate horrible bosses.


      Cheap bastard! I’d give you $200 to go over and belt that bloke with $80.


        I LOVE you, REDdog!


        That settles it then, we love each other! xOx


        There’s a pattern here, isn’t there, some explanation may necessary perhaps. I’m not really a violent man…not anymore, anyway, but there’s an old saying amongst the old school that goes something like, “Violence may not be the best option but it’s still an option.” I’m a great believer in talking my way through anything and giving people the benefit of the doubt but justice is high on my list of must haves and I strongly believe in speaking up for those whose voice is being ignored or drowned out. I despise bullies in all their forms, from the misogynistic, drunken, peanut with Mummy/Daddy issues through to Govt. sanctioned Police brutality. I still can’t say/do nothing when it happens in front of me…simple as that.


        I feel you, my REDdog friend.

        I believe myself too classy, too educated, to spiritual a person to resort to violence.


        I have this Project Girl in me that believes in street justice. And she has exploded out of me, very occasionally.

        I actually may write about it. Because Jennie Saia wrote about a time she almost ended up in a Girl Fight, and I actually DID end up in one. As an adult.
        Not my proudest moment.

        But it will make a hilarious blog post, and that’s ALL that matters now. hahahahahaha


        Oh yes please, sounds de-lish. I haven’t had to let the monster out in a long time but I have a size and demeanour advantage that allows me to get heard when shiz is goin’ down, man (whoa, when the fuck did I start channeling Snoop Doggy Dog?)…but the rule is you never use an unloaded gun in the hope the threat is enough, right?


        I try and channel Snoop Dog as frequently as possible. I follow him on Twitter, for cryin’ out loud.

        Fo’ shizzle.


        Well shizzel ma nizzle!


    OH, I should add that he was married. Not that it’s shocking, but it matters to his level of scumbagness.


      Assholery, as I like to call it.

      His poor wife. I wonder if they’re still married.


        Last I heard they are still married, and —- wait for it— he has a daughter.

        Poetic justice, my friend. Poetic justice. I bet he doesn’t offer chicks money to see their boobs anymore. Me thinks he was served massive doses of perspective and clarity. Well, me hopes. But you can’t always bet on it. Because…men.


    She could NEVER be you.

    And oh god yes I’ve been screwed over like that at work. It’s always been by women….bitches. What is that about? We are so ferociously in competition with one another! It’s sad because together we are stronger. 🙂


    I have had to deal with “short guy” stuff for a number of years, now. They are the worst ones to work for – insecure, untrustworthy, unethical. I find that women who betray are worse, though. They start a whisper campaign and then close ranks – I have experienced this. It was years later that I discovered that it had been over a rather minor miscommunication.


      I never dealt with “short guy syndrome,” although this boss was not that tall. 5’8, maybe?

      He did, however, have absurdly small FEET. Uh-huh. Yep. I’m going there. I’ll bet THAT’S what his problem was.

      That whisper campaign sounds deadly. Why do women mistreat each other in the workplace?


    As usual, Samara, so many layers to your bloomin’ onion of a story.

    You trained well. The men in power acted like you figured they would.

    Rose cried dicing tears when she didn’t get your job.

    And I bet you landed a far better position and never did THAT again.


      Actually, I left corporate America all together. I don’t have the stomach for it.

      I run my own business now. And spend most of my time around teens. Suits my mentality perfectly. 🙂


    Stabbed in the back? Yes.

    Two mantra’s; Firstly “If you wait long enough, on the banks of the river, the body of your enemy will float by”. Secondly ” Revenge is a dish best served cold”

    But its always, but always better to travel lightly.


      I’m not the revenge type.

      Resentment is poison you swallow and wait for the other person to die.

      Yes. Travel light.


        Have say. Life’s too short to spend it by a river bank watching or plotting.

        ‘Resentment is poison…’ Yes.

        I’m slowly emptying my mind. Letting go. I’m still in the shallows, but I’ll be light enough to float soon


    A movie. There is a movie. Please hold, must google.
    YES: “All About Eve” I haven’t seen it but I read the screenplay while I was traveling in Thailand and this is exactly what this story reminds me of. Sadly, it must be a fairly common plot.

    As for female sabotage at work, I get a shit ton. But it’s a role reversal– it’s all the older women who hate me and want me fired. They all applied for my job but when I got it they decided to believe it was because I was a skank, not because I was more qualified. They’ve done this exact sort of thing– bringing things to my boss off the copier to try and get me in trouble. Thankfully he lets them know they’re wasting his time.


      Ha! One of my favorite movies EVER!

      I actually had a line in here that referenced it, but I edited it out because I didn’t know if it was relatable.

      Why do women sabotage other women at all, younger or older? It’s hard enough to be a woman in a man-dominated field. We need all the support we can get.

      They try and get you in trouble? Tell Beth! She’ll cut a bitch!


        *Insert Feminist Rant About How Our Culture Sets Women Up As Competition Against Each Other And Then We Take The Lead In Perpetuating It*

        It does make you wonder how formidable we would all be if we stopped ganging up on each other and trying to undermine each other and teamed up to do big things. Aiyaiyai.

        I don’t mind the workplace biatches though… they provide entertainment for me.


        You’re strong.
        But it’s such a terrible problem. The way women treat each other, at work and in a million other ways.

        When really, together we are stronger…


    I have little experience with the corporate world– and absolutely none in a corporate setting. The office experience I had was by way of welfare-to-work, then volunteer, so I thankfully avoided much of the politics there. But… a number of my stories about being sexually harassed were at work. Mostly in retail hell.


    Have you ever been stabbed in the back by someone you thought was your friend?

    -My so called “best” friend, in fact. When I uncovered her treachery, I drove 3 hrs to confront her in person and inform her that in fact, she was NOT the good person she thought she was, and that she was a lying, cheating, soul sucking whore who deserved every horrible thing that had happened to her (not many, honestly) and that she could forget about ‘repairing’ our friendship. I also fired her a Godmother to my kids. I try not to hang on to hate, but she’s one of the 3 people in the world I wouldn’t mind seeing end up in a bad situation. Not that I am actively wishing it on her or them or anything…but I wouldn’t be sad if I heard about it.
    You know what I mean??



      Another commenter asked me if I Internet stalked Rose, and I have, and she’s still there.

      When he said, “now she’s dodging staplers,” I replied, “hope one of them killed her.”

      But your best friend? That’s rough. I wouldn’t even know how to process that. It’s usually just workplace ho’s.


    Is there anything more evil than twenty-something women? I think not!


    I LUV it! – “deranged fucksqueak”!! Actually, that designation belongs to the Jar Jar Bitch that works with me. Recently, she tried to throw me under the bus for supposedly failing to give her a copy of a summons to which we need to reply by next week. When I shot her a copy of the email with the PDF from the last week in April, she modified her complaint/demand to “Just give me the hard copy next time”. Honey, I don’t think so!

    I once worked with a female Director who, on an afternoon shopping mission for gifts for the hospital volunteers, almost gave me a stroke by suddenly screaming “GET THAT FUCKING TOOTHPICK OUT OF YOUR MOUTH BEFORE YOU FUCKING CHOKE!!!” right in the middle of 3rd Avenue. I almost jumped into oncoming traffic, I was so startled.


    Work sluts are so much worse than work wives. What a bitch. Can you tell I’ve experienced this before?

    Good for you. I sincerely hope you’re in a much better place now where you don’t cry yourself to sleep at night. Or, wait, was that me…? Ha.


      Haha you’re FUNNY! I like you!

      I don’t work in corporate America anymore.
      I do occasionally cry myself to sleep. Non-work related.


        Don’t we all? I set a cry appointment every week during the show “Parenthood.”

        No one should work in corporate America unless they want their soul sucked from their body via snarky emails, high heels, or a fax machine. Truth.



        You speak the truth!

        I haven’t watched Parenthood. Maybe one episode. I’m pretty sure I cried. I ugly cried. The son with Aspergers ran for student government?
        Do I have the right show?


        YES! It’s amazing. EVERY. SINGLE. EPISODE. Ugly cry is right. For the season finale this year, one of the main characters’ daughters came out and there was no fuss about it. It was beautiful and so different from every other TV show that makes being gay a big deal. They did it beautifully. Amazing.

        All seasons are on Netflix aka the greatest service ever. You better get on it fast because this year will be the show’s final season… Ahhh, I love me a good cry.


    Not this, ever, but I worked for a boss who was a psychodynamic psychotherapist, a bit of a train-wreck, who CONSTANTLY blurred the lines between friend and boss, and who in spite of the good things, constantly and FREQUENTLY broke the law and exploited her entire team, and undermined us to make it our fault. We were all a bit broken in that team, so mostly we took it and well…I got my dander up and LEFT….uh…a whole nine years later. At the end of my tether.


      Nine YEARS you stayed there? Wow. You have a high threshold for occupationally-induced pain.

      The whole situation sounds totally intriguing! Have you blogged about it?


        I have not because she’s still in my life…like, I’m going round tomorrow and spending a play date with her granddaughter, who is one of ‘my kids’. It was just SHIT. She’s alright as a friend but a NIGHTMARE as a boss.

        High threshold…or lack of feeling I was worth more…hmm…interesting toss-up there.


        Do many of the people you know read your blog?
        Sounds like she reads it. I guess a lot of bloggers have IRL people read their blog. Hmmm.


        Enough to prevent it from being a safe/appropriate place to publish that kind of thing, yeah. I don’t have a separate FB account, so all my people can pretty much see all my blog updates and links. They don’t comment, as a rule, but I couldn’t say who reads and who doesn’t, and I don’t want to offend any of them.


    Guh. I do not miss the corporate world at all.


    Shoulda slept with HER on the first day, and then you would have owned her – and everyone else too.


      Okay, have you had a wee cocktail this Friday evening??


      That is seriously one of the most porno comments I have EVER gotten – and people say a lot of strange shit to me.

      I dig it.


        Makes sense. Hard to get psyched out by some boss or another with Rose bouncing around when you know you had that first, and so does she, and all the guys will guess it, which would have made you more interesting, not her.


        Also, I don’t know how I got such a high ranking for such a PG comment.

        But I’ll take it!


        I guess, the idea of “owning her” is very. Hot.

        Not her. Yuck. She’s a yeast infection.

        But some other 20 year old girl? Fo’ shizzle!


        If she was, why were all the guys so into her? Or, is it because all the guys were ‘into her’ that she was a yeast infection?

        I’d recommend Emma Watson.


        The guys were 22, and just out of college.

        Rose had a vagina and a pulse. Those were pretty much the requirements. Plus, being single and their age.

        Ugh. I taught her to IRON her shirt for work, for fuck’s sake. She used to show up looking like she spent the night in a tree.

        I’d recommend Emma Watson, too. For everything.


    What awful people, like bad Bret Easton Ellis stereotypes of Manhattanites. Do these people even have the self-awareness to know they are walking cliches?

    Sad to be betrayed.

    Don’t take it all too seriously. It’s just a job, it shouldn’t be one’s whole life.


      Yes. I’ve never felt that what I do is who I am.

      At least, not what I do for a living.

      Writing is who I am, and what I do.

      Cliches by definition wouldn’t recognize themselves as such.

      Am I one? The disgruntled intellectually superior betrayed co worker? Probably.

      Am I?


        Well, being self-aware and asking yourself that question puts you a cut above the rest. Not a cliche by that definition.

        But even if you are a disgruntled intellectual cliche, that’s such a way better cliche to be…


    Did you ever find out if it was Rose who gave your resume to your boss? The reason why I ask is that as an ex-manager if one of my long-term employees was applying for jobs else where, I’d always get a call from my competition either bragging that they were stealing him/her away or asking what was going on. Most managers have a rapport with the competition for a bunch of reasons – not the least of which is ensuring a place to jump in case of firing. And there’s always a sort of one upmanship around bragging about employees defecting.

    Yeah, I’ve had a number of wacky bosses. I sometimes think it’s not possible to be “normal” and be a boss. Often it is a sort of badge of honor if they act nuts around you. I once worked for a billionaire who was the most laid back, friendly guy you would want to meet. And as the years went by I got promoted and ended up in the head office. When you went into the board room with him and the Executive, and the door closed, it was like a switch was flipped. He was ignorant, demanding, raised his voice constantly, and was verbally abusive. Open the door, and the kindly grandfather was back. I often wondered how much fun it would be to standing at the door and open and close it depending on how the meeting was going. Ha! But he was only nasty to those he trusted. Odd, iI know but I’ve seen the same dynamic before and since. It’s not much help to know that when you are on the receiving end of his wrath, but it seems to be true.


      There does seem to be a strange correlation between being a wealthy boss and being insane. But I always question it – I somehow think that were it me in that position of power, I would NOT behave that way!

      I DID know that it was here. She was the only one who had access to my office. Ugh.

      The whole recruiting world is so loathesome. Really, all we did was spend our time researching who were the most valuable employees at investment banks, and STEAL them.

      Not a single useful contribution to society. Nothing.


    Self awareness is the most irritating cliche, it’s the root of a host of annoying behaviours e.g. not taking your job seriously.
    72% of the people who need a good slapping are very self-aware.

    The corporate world was mostly OK for me, being a technical guy in low-bullshit companies. People were cooperative because you have to be in my field, backstabby types wouldn’t prosper.

    There were some wanky corporate types, and it was something that formerly-decent people sometimes got infected with. That was pretty painful when one was my boss.

    Corpspeak in meetings was grating. I used to take the piss, one pointy-headed boss took it seriously and thought I was great. He wasn’t too bright.

    I did get a glimpse of a more ruthless world, which seemed to be linked to the crazy money. I never went there as I wouldn’t have survived.

    Rose and your boss deserved each other.


      You hit it! Linked to the more crazy money!

      We were placing highly paid Wall Street investment bankers. And the company earned 30% commissions off their salaries. If we placed a Fixed Income Equity Analyst at Deutsche Bank who earned 2 million a year, well – you do the math.

      I’m so glad I’m out of that world. I was a bundle of nerves. I still am, but it’s different nerves. hahahaha


    I have just learned I would not be able to survive the corporate world….


    That is so maddening! I wonder if Rose overstayed her welcome and was replaced by the next young backstabber? 🙂

    Isn’t it SO crazy how quickly things can change? One minute your boss or coworkers are your ‘friends’ and the next minute YOU are suddenly the enemy! I worked in banking for many years and got offered a job at a competing bank that was opening up across the street. My current bank was going through its 20th merger (practically) and this new bank was offering me beaucoup dinero! As soon as I accepted and gave my notice, every single person turned on me. They gave me the evil eye and whispered about me behind my back. These are people I had worked with for many years!! My boss booted me out right away. The only positive was that it gave me 2 weeks paid of unexpected vacation prior to starting my new job.


      After many years in finance, you actually thought you could give notice like a normal person?


      NO. WAY. You pack up all your stuff, delete everything off your computer, download all important contacts onto a flash drive, and THEN just leave.
      There’s no way you can stay 2 weeks once they know you’re leaving.

      They don’t care that your quality of life is better with more pay, or that you needed job security because every day your bank was changing names.

      Rose is still there. She never got my job, but I always hoped she would be killed by a flying stapler.


        Yea, they even watched me as I packed up my desk to make sure I didn’t take anything. Little did they know (or actually they did) that customers were loyal to me and not the bank and followed me across the st! 💰💰


        See? Even though you didn’t know better, and should have gotten all that stuff squared away ahead of time!

        Corporate America is where they invented the saying,
        “Nice Guys Finish Last.”


    Stabbed in the back? Where I work now I’m known as, shall we say, less than approachable, I look like a damn porcupine half the time! Me, I prefer the good ol’ get ’em in a bear hug and drive the shiv up between the 3rd and 4th rib at an angle to just nick the bottom of the heart and then look into their eyes as the slow dawning that they are going arrives and then suck out their last dying breath…purely metaphorically speaking, of course. Geez, no bloody wonder I’m unapproachable.


    Work is tough. And other women are tough. *sigh*


      But why???

      Why must we be tough on each other when it’s already tough to be in the work world?

      Women ARE tough. In every way.

      I LOVE when you stop by, Steph! It kinda makes my day!


        Really? Wow. Well I’m sorry I haven’t in a while. Life has kicked my butt these last few weeks. But I’m back like a bad case of herpes. Women are so tough on each other. I have no idea why we’re like that. It’s one of the sucky things women do. Having said that, I do love women.


        You’re not like a bad case of herpes. You’re more like, a GOOD case of herpes.

        I’ll have to check out your blog to see why life has kicked your ass. I hope it has nothing to really do with herpes.


        No. I do not have herpes. I have, however, had a shitty few months. But I’m back


    THAT WENCH. Ugh.

    What’s she doing now?


    My very first boss used to show me his fist when I get into work some mornings. Just to set me at ease. After a few months, I realised it didn’t really matter what I did, he’d be a giant dick anyway. We’re still in contact, and he sponsored my degree at university. I can never understand why such wonderful people (in private) have to be total dickwads in office settings. Jerk off or something, for god’s sake.


      It’s Jeckyl and Hyde, right? Although in my boss’s case, he was a dick to his wife.

      Some Facebook stalking revealed that she eventually divorced him. I was so happy, thinking of all the money he had to shell out for that.


    Urrggghhhhh how did you last as long as you did? I can only imagine it’s because you’re an actress with an extremely good work ethic, so you took pride in excelling at that job even though the whole situation was fucking toxic – amiright?

    And screw Rose. You do. not. turn on your mentor, especially when you’re the only two ladies.


      I lasted because they paid me such an obscene amount of money that I sold my soul to the devil.

      As for Rose- I hope someone stapled her stupid head to a desk!


    Until I met my wife six years ago, your story, here, was my story with every “friend” I’ve ever had in and out of work.

    As far as bosses go, the worst was a redneck millionaire who ran the construction materials business I was an inside salesperson for in the mid 1990s. He screwed his mistresses in the early mornings while I arrived to open the place, he hit on every girlfriend or wife of the employees including mine, and when I left after 2 years, he was being sued for sexual harassment AND embezzlement.

    good times


    Ouch. Ouch, and ouch. Not to mention gag. Luckily, you have us and are much more sophisticated than Rose will ever be. 😉

When I see the orange light, I have a BLOGASM...

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