Contrary to the image most people have of those like me who write blogs, I am not sitting in my parents basement in dirty underwear. Although, I freely admit some ambiguity as to exactly at what point in a days wear of underwear that it transforms from a clean pair to “dirty.” If I say I have had mine on for approximately 7 hours, you will have to make the final judgment. But I am DEFINITELY NOT in my parents basement or even my own. I arrive to my office in the front part of the house with large windows. I am dressed to kill in a power suit…. because … I am likely to do that … kill …
I am not afraid … if the situation calls for it.
I open the window so the neighbours can see me as they jog by and I have a Kleenex box that I glue-gunned knobs onto, sitting on my desk. I wait for the neighbours to come by and then I have a siren simulator that I like to push. It was funny the first couple of times cause it scared them and they jumped into the bushes. It sounds like an ambulance and they thought it is right there but it wasn’t and then they thought it was an invisible ambulance which was even more scary. When they got up and looked around as they picked the gravel and branches out of their teeth, they saw me leaning forward, taking a pen out of my pocket protector and saying to my kleenex box, “send in the first appointment please, Mary.”
I have one of the kids open the door and hubby comes in, even though he is in shorts, hair disheveled and coffee in hand. He sits down at the other computer and I say things like, “take a letter for me please, Mary,” and “hold all my calls for today, Mary,” really loud so that they can’t hear him swearing at me. I make him wear a name tag saying “Mary the Assistant,” and tell him if he doesn’t pick up his act I will fire him. He tells me that I need to sit down and stay on my side of the desk for my own safety and uses the stapler in a menacing way. I don’t really care though because I am pretty sure he has no idea how to use a stapler and besides, it isn’t loaded. I have like this big box I painted to look like a fax machine and it blocks the view of the weapons and hand gestures from the street so the neighbours just look in and think “wow she is an important Big Boss! Look how tough she is. Poor Mary, I hope she gets her act together.” I know what the neighbours are thinking on account of I take the tinfoil off my head in the morning, just so I get the full impact of their astoundedness at my business power.
I made my mother in law wait an hour one time to come into the office just to ask if we had any extra toilet paper. “Look mah, I can’t play favourites just because you are my related to me, you know. I may be your daughter in law in the kitchen but this is my office and everyone works here. You are going to have to plan these things a little better and phone ahead and make an appointment with Mary.”
“I just wanted more toilet paper. This is ridiculous! Who is Mary?”
I lifted my hand and indicated hubby cowering in his shorts, slurping coffee, eyes glazed over… “My secretary.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. That’s my son. He’s not a secretary.”
“You’re telling me? Good help is really hard to get. But in this room, he is known as ‘Mary.'”
I didn’t know she knew some of those swear words but they bounced off me like I was made of teflon. Big bosses have to be like that .. in control … impervious to sticks, stones and name calling, although I did think “whiny crazy ass bitch” was a bit much even from her. I cried a bit over that one.
I think it is important to establish authority, and it really is in the way you dress and how you take control of the situation. Power dressing is the key. It is much safer than my old way of taking control, cause stun guns sometimes backfire.