My Quandary

The other day at work I had kind of a tough day. It began with a phone call. To understand the importance of this phone call, you must first understand my boss. He's a bit of an eccentric, and very good at what he does. He's an attorney. He literally told me my first week working there that perfection is possible if I will only pay attention. Paperwork should be filed in a certain way, phone calls need to be handled just so, and thus perfection not only is attainable, it is shameful if it is not constantly maintained. He likes everything, and I do mean everything, to be handled his way. We, the under-staff, are only there to keep things running smoothly enough that he doesn't have to bother with us and our work, but can go about his own tasks uninterrupted.

Now, don't think that I don't like my boss. I do. And I believe that under his exterior he has an incling of affection for me. I can see it in the completely random comments he makes to me when he's trying to be friendly enough for a miniature conversation. For example, the other day he walked by my desk in the morning on his way to talk to the other secretary (most days we don't say a word to each other) and as he walked by, it was almost like he remembered that I was there and was obligated to say something. He stopped and said "Oh, good morning. How are you." To which I gave the inspiring reply, "I'm good. How about yourself?" He said, "Oh I'm great. Yeah, see I got some new shoes," at which point he looked down and started rocking on his heels like a self-conscious, proud 4th grader. I smiled not really knowing what to say to this random comment, and of course, brilliantly, the first thing that pops in to my head is a very sarcastic "well congrats." (aka whoopdy do. You're a millionaire.) (Thankfully, no one can tell when I'm sarcastic...I'm much too wholesome and cheerful-looking. It's too unexpected.) So we generally avoid each other at work, although I like him and I believe he grudgingly likes me...even if he probably doesn't remember my name half the time.

My fateful phone call came that morning from a hateful man named Mike Shaw. I picked up the phone, "Good morning, Pedersen & Whitehead."

He asked to speak with Ken. I asked what it was regarding.

He said, "It's personal."

Once in a while, Ken has friends that call and they are as eccentric and dismissive of us "underlings" as he is. They always say "it's personal."

So, I paged Ken. Told him who was on the line. He asked "well, who is that."

Bad Sign

I told him that he said it was personal. He said OK and picked it up.

I then had a bad, burny feeling in the stomach region.

Soon, I hear Ken's door opening. Next I hear the near shout "Whitney!?"

Very Bad Sign

He walks to my desk and says that Mike Shaw was a salesman trying to pawn something off on him. Don't I know what I'm doing? My job is to screen these calls so he doesn't have to deal with anything he doesn't want to. I mean, why else am I being paid right? He was furious especially that I told him that it was a "personal call." How dare I. All of this being fairly yelled in the middle of the office. Each person can hear. Eventually he walks off without waiting for a reply muttering, "You told me he was my friend."

Hmm.

Well, the tongue lashing was a little embarrassing, but I don't pay too much attention because next thing I know Ken will give me a cheerful "have a good lunch!" Besides, I know that I didn't do anything wrong. It ain't my fault that a salesman got tricky and knows how to get through to talk to an attorney (even though he has a flagrant disregard for the poor receptionists, because he has to know that they get the flack for it. Hateful man) I just continued with my work, and didn't let it bother me much.

Then, my co-worker sneaks up to me and says very quietly "Whitney, don't worry about Ken. He does that to all of us. You just have to smile and nod your head and say 'yeah, ok ken' and then he'll leave you alone. He's just stressed about this big trial we have, it makes him edgy. Don't worry about it, he does it to all of us."

hmmm

Soon, another one of the secretaries comes up to me and under her voice says almost exactly the same thing. "He's just stressed. We've all been yelled at before."

Double hmmm

And herein lies my problem. The little thorn in my side that nags at my conscience, my sense of right and wrong.

Why does it matter that he's stressed? Because he's a "powerful" man and is taking financial risks makes it excusable to treat people this way? I'm not tooting my horn here, I'm not having a pity party because I was yelled at. It honestly didn't bother me much until the other girls I work with offered me support in saying that they get the pleasure of being publicly humiliated too. I don't believe that stress is a free pass for behaving like a spoiled child. I also don't want to sound like a feminist here, but he would never, ever treat a man that way. Never. Why is that? There are men that work in the office. None of them have ever had a tongue lashing. None.

And that's where I see that I am just as guilty as he. I allow him to treat me that way. And the more I allow it, the more he will likely continue. Because he's the man in charge, and I'm the lowly receptionist. I could have said, "Ken, I didn't tell you he was your friend. I told you that he said it was a personal call. If you didn't know him, then you should have told me to either get rid of him, or get more information. I'm sorry, but unless you'd like to give me a list of every single friend that may call, it's just rude to ask what a personal call is regarding." But I didn't say that to him. Nor can I imagine myself saying that to him. I'm a quiet person who does not like confrontation. It makes me nervous.

The solution to my problem? Either get a backbone, or don't screw up ever again.

Right now, perfection seems easier.