Have I ever told you about the boss who threw a book at my head?
When I left the ministry (the first time), I worked a series of temporary jobs (and one of them quite poorly, realizing there that I had outgrown my ability to Cute myself out of any situation–that was a slap in the face!) One of those jobs was for a gentleman we’ll call Mr. Points. Mr. Points was the CEO of a holding company, and I was hired to be his assistant.
I think Mr. Points, as a human being, can be summed up in the fact that 2/3rds of his children were suing him. The ones who weren’t suing him either worked for him, or were minors.
One of Mr. Points’ sons, an attorney, did work for him. Points-the-Younger asked me if I’d like to earn extra money working part-time for him. I like earning money, so I said yes. Then we had a conversation that went something like this:
Me: Where will I be working? From [the main office], or from your law office?
Points-the-Younger: Oh, you’ll be working out of my house.
Me: Oh… Your home office?
Points-the-Younger: No. I’ll set up a laptop for you in the bedroom.
Me: Uh… And your wife will be home, yes?
Points-the-Younger: No, no, no. I don’t want the two of you there at the same time.
Me: So, I’d be working out of your bedroom, in your house, while your wife isn’t at home?
Points-the-Younger: Exactly [shark smile.]
Me: Pass.
Points-the-Younger also came into his father’s office while I was filing one day. I didn’t hear him enter, but when I looked up from where I sat on my knees, working my way through the bottom drawer of Mr. Points’ credenza, Points-the-Younger groaned and rubbed his hipbones and said, “Yes. Stay right there. Don’t get up. That is the perfect view.”
Swear. Wouldn’t make that up. I don’t know how I find these people.
Anyway…
So, one day I was in Mr. Points’ office, and I was taking notes on a legal pad. He became enraged and started screaming about how legal pads are good for nothing, reached back on his credenza and picked up a 3 subject, spiral bound notebook, and launched it at my head (caught it!), screaming, “Don’t you ever come in here with a legal pad again! You only use notebooks with me! Tie it around your g-dd-mned waist if you have to, but never come in here again without it!”
I agreed, went back to my desk, got everything in my files in order, finished the work in my in-box and went home. Then, I faxed in my resignation.
But, I got a lifelong friend out of the deal, so not a total loss!
The Outside Lane 