After each of us spending years with the same employer, the spouse and I had definitely settled down with the idea that not only we were "lifers" but that we had developed a certain amount of professional respect, at the very least deemed competent at what we do. Insert an unpredictable manager and all that can change. When thinking of an employment situation, it might be OK to scan the comics and picture yourself as a Doonesbury character--or even a Dagwood character--but not a Dilbert Character. No one wants to envision one's work-life as being on the wrong side of a desk manned by a pointy-haired boss.
Early in my career I had a manager who I did not understand well, which means of course following what I thought were instructions was a toss of the dice. In fact, as often as not I completely misunderstood the task at hand and the outcome failed to meet the vision.
As time passed, I tried to listen carefully, repeat back what I thought I heard, and follow through to meet expectations. I wish I could report that we worked through our communication issues with patience and guidance, but she made it abundantly clear that I was an incompetent baboon, with no disrespect intended towards baboons. One image that remains is her publicly yelling at me while I kept repeating all that I could think to say in as soft a tone as I could muster, "It won't happen again." Over and over I inserted those words, softly spoken, as the noisy upbraiding continued. My cheeks burned at the sidelong glances of bystanders. My most unforgettable professional moment, fortunately not the most defining.
Soon I did not trust my own instincts, I was paralyzed at each decision juncture. I became that incompetent baboon. Needless to say, each night I tossed and turned. The morning alarm was a call to dread, the oatmeal caught in my throat as I prepared to leave for work. It's just a job, but when the job is bad it is all consuming, bleeding out into the nights, weekends, and holidays, banging against personal relationships like a battering ram. Eventually, and fortunately, I was able to change who I reported to and I went from a total incompetent to a professional almost overnight. Such is the power of communication.
Years later, seeing a situation starting to occur in the spouse's job brought back memories of those feelings. One of course hopes to remedy the situation as quickly as possible, to open the communication and seek resolution of issues. But like a thug in a dark alleyway, the other party is not always interested in negotiation. Soon even the inner Pollyanna in me was silenced, my suggestions were pointless and I knew it. Something had to change.
Meanwhile in my position, a project of ten years was ending. The economy has not been kind and no new projects were lining up to take its place. My long time supervisor and mentor was taking another step up the ladder of success, and I was left behind to report to someone new. Things were going to be different.
With all that, one would say the writing was on the wall, that the times they are a changin'. Well even the obvious is not obvious to those who have been in the same position for so many years. In fact, the only thing I noticed was an increase in pointy-haired boss jokes. Otherwise, it was life as usual with a few spouse cheers from the sidelines to keep the chin up and carry on. In January, the year lay before us with the comfortable known terrain the start of the year always brought, but this time with a slightly Dilbertian twist.
The funnies aren't always funny.
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