Here are some scenarios as to why I quit.
(1) HIS Desk
A bill is due, Mr. Boss is gone on an extended lunch and the mail lady is coming in 5 minutes so I go into his desk drawer which houses the checkbooks. I grab the correct one and fill out the check and have his dad sign it (it’s a very small family run business). I send the wee check on it’s way.
Mr. Boss comes back and asks for an update. So I give him one. He starts ranting.
“Why the F*ck did you go into my desk? I don’t want you in my desk for ANY REASON WHATSOEVER. Stay out of it. Get it? Stay Out.”
So I’m thinking drugs, porn, a small kidnapped child. Illegal things- as he stomps out the door with steam rolling out of his elephant ears.
He comes back (a little calmer) and says he doesn’t want me in there because it’s HIS space. The only place where he can have HIS stuff left alone (again, drugs, porn, small kidnapped child, etc..).
Then. I. Get. Mad.
It’s NOT OK for me to grab the checkbook from the drawer I have been in countless times before to pay a bill that if not paid would have been slapped with a $15 late fee (the bill was laying on HIS desk for a month as I was not allowed to touch the mail with HIS name on it), but it’s OK for him to go through my drawer where I keep all of my personal things in (tampons, toothbrush, chocolate, lotion, girly things and such).
(2) The Internet
I was not “allowed” to use the internet unless it was specifically relating to the business or a customer inquiry.
I am not gonna lie. I was on the internet, A LOT doing things I shouldn’t. Facebook, Twitter, Yahoo! News… But only when he was gone on one of his many many “errands” and 2 hour lunches (we measly underlings got a 1/2 hour). It was my way to get back at him for constantly yelling at me and driving me to have grown up girl hissy fits (hair pulling, screaming, punching the air).
One day he asks me, “Do you know what percentage of girls are single teenage moms?”
So I jump on Google to look it up.
He gets PISSED.
And I’m not talking about just a little mad. I’m talking about Red In The Face, Bulging Eye Balls, Panties In A Royal Bunch mad.
He lays into me about using the internet for unrelated topics.
Me Inside My Head: “Then why have the internet on my computer if you’re so anal about it? Why ask me a question that you knew I was going to look up (it’s a habit of mine, Google is my second brain)? Ohhh yeah, that’s right. You’re the “big man on campus” who needs to have his desk behind mine so you can constantly monitor what I’m doing. You need someone to talk down do and berate to make yourself feel better. My bad.”
My answer: Silence
Yep, I sat there for a year and took this sort of abuse in silence.
It. Drove. Me. Nuts.
(3) The Talks
Mr. Boss: “Do you have a boyfriend?”
Mr. Boss: “Have you had sexual intercourse?”
Me: “EXCUSE ME?”
Mr. Boss: “You must resist temptation. So many young women give in too easily. Once you give in, there is no reason for the guy to stick around. You need to uphold the Catholic way of life. Don’t give in to pleasure. Wait until marriage until you are then ready to bear life.”
Me: Mutely nod.
Weekend comes and goes.
I wake up. Walk in to the office.
Best. Feeling. Ever.