Tuesday, September 25, 2007
My Boss, the DWiP
Yeah, it's getting a bit thick down the South Hall in Suite 600.
My boss, the Devil Wears Payless, continues to be a totally unprofessional shrew.
Since our catfight last Thursday, we have exchanged two tepid morning greetings.
"Hey, Karen" (Hey) and "Hey, Karen" (Hey).
She sends me terse, strictly business related e-mail. I reply with a simple "thank you for the information."
The CEO has been toggling between our offices trying to broker a detente.
Best part? He comes to my office but summons her to his office.
Nobody's supposed to know what's going on, but three separate people have come to me with insider scoop. They don't say it aloud but I can see by the gleam in their eyes that they are banking on me to bring her down. She's an arrogant, petty tyrant who refuses to indulge in even a whit of socializing with the staff. Nobody even sends her funny e-mail--they're afraid she'll tattle.
I told them, "She thinks I color outside the lines, but I think she doesn't color at all because she thinks coloring is childish." They howled.
Yesterday,the CEO and I had a heart to heart and he gave me the usual corporate crap about "you don't have to respect her but you do have to respect her office."
Then he asked me to write up my version of our catfight.
I wrote it, then snuck it in to our Human Resources Director who edited it for me.
If we get mediation, she's the mediator. I was invited to her recent bachelorette party, but the DWiP was not. Then when the DWiP heard about the party, she asked if she was invited. The HR Director had no choice but to invite her, then the DWiP didn't show up. Asshole? Oh,I think so.
Anyway, after the CEO and I talked and he suggested I be the bigger person and take the high road, I considered his suggestions.
Today I was leafing through a competitor's hilariously awful magazine and I found a lead paragraph that could easily win the Bulwer-Lytton award for non-fiction.
I started laughing aloud and decided to share it with the DWiP, just to break the ice. I went into her office, laughing, and asked, "Have you got just a second?"
She said no.
Yes, she said no. So I walked back to my office next door, quietly closed the door and printed out my version for the CEO.
I took it down the North hall to his office, asked if I may be seated and handed him the page. I sat quietly while he read it, then when he was done I said, "I tried to take your advice," then I described my attempt to break the ice.
He said, "She's not over it yet."
I said, "What should I do, just deal with the silent treatment?"
"Yes, give her time to get past her anger, but I think it was kind of you to make an effort."
I said, "Sir, I don't think she's gotten past her anger from our disagreement two months ago." (She nixed me doing a film review for a movie that dealt with our memberships' profession, then she caught hell from my publications committee).
He just looked at me and sighed. I think he agreed.
Then he said he was going to Vegas for the rest of the week and for me to lay low until he came back.
Fortunately, ignoring the seahag for the rest of the week will be a pleasure.
...to be continued