Evaluation of all my supervisors to date
I work for a mid-sized company in a dense urban pocket in the U.S.—no need to get into the line of business or its proprietary tech. I’ve been there about 30 years. The coworkers are often the best part, but the workplace politics are definitely the worst.
The mature version of me was faced with a dilemma when I was thinking about this piece:
“How much of my disdain for the office is because of me? And not others?”
I haven’t developed the formula to rule it out.
Luz was a middle-aged Italian woman—heavyset, heavy makeup, dressed unprofessionally, and her desk was always a disaster. She smoked constantly, spoke with a deep husky voice, and was single with no kids. She liked to claim she never gossiped, but that was a lie; coworkers told me otherwise. I tolerated her and kept her at arm’s length when I could. Back then I was naïve—she was my boss, so I obeyed—but in hindsight, I let her walk all over me. She was conventionally pretty, and her charm came from the crude jokes she told, which usually landed. My coworkers agreed with me: she was no example of leadership. She would do whatever she wanted while telling us to do the opposite.
She gets a solid F.