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DunningKruger · 61-69, M
I used to work for a typesetting and layout firm, back before desktop publishing had completely taken over. The owner took a job outside the business, and to look over things, she hired a manager. His job was primarily to be a salesman, to dig up some new business for us.
Mike, the new manager, appeared eager to learn the ropes. Pretty soon, though, things starting to look strange. Rather than beating the streets looking for clients, or coming up with new strategies or whatever, Mike spent pretty much all day in the office reorganizing the company files. OK, sure, he needs to become familiar with our clients and the work we've done for them before, but this went on for weeks and weeks.
So, I'm working away, and another designer is working away, and at that time, we had a lot of work — we were pretty buried at the time. I get a call from our largest client at the time telling me that the copy for their monthly catalog was ready. I'd always gone over to pick it up before — our largest client, remember — but I am just swamped and have deadlines bearing down on me. I ask Mike if he'd go over to pick up the copy. Rather than recognizing the situation and helping out, he gave me a long lecture about why, no, the client should come to us with the copy.
I was so mad. I grabbed my coat and blew out of the office, running over and picking up the copy. It took me almost an hour that I couldn't afford, but, again — biggest client.
Later on, there were... issues. Mike had taken it upon himself to speak with our client — a nice woman, just a little high strung — and that hadn't gone well. She came into our office and it was easy to see that she wasn't happy about what Mike had told her. Anyway, we get the issues worked out. She's still mad, but I think we're all good.
As she's walking out the door, though, Mike pats the client on the back. She rounds on him, her eyes on fire, and says, "Do not every touch me again." She then storms out of the office.
I rush out, following her to the parking lot to apologize for Mike's behavior (you know things are bad when I'm the voice of reason). She was mad, but she wasn't mad at us — we'd always bent over backward to get her catalogs done on time and she knew it. She was mad at Mike. He didn't do anything but add more stress to her already stressful job.
I was so angry. Later, I starting writing in a notebook I kept at my desk. I was just venting into it, as I was wont to do. When I went home, I left my notebook on the desk. Mike took my notebook and read my notes (the term "less than useless" cropped up more than once) and took it to the firm's owner.
The boss called me in to talk about my notes. I was livid. I'd never been so angry at someone in my life. So, fine, I laid out everything that I had written in my notes as a way of venting about the situation.
The boss ultimately concluded that Mike was a luxury that we could no longer afford and fired him. I became the manager, but I was also the only employee, as the other designer had quit during this period. There was no way I could possibly bring in enough money to keep the place going, but apparently the owner wasn't very good at math.
What a disaster.
Mike, the new manager, appeared eager to learn the ropes. Pretty soon, though, things starting to look strange. Rather than beating the streets looking for clients, or coming up with new strategies or whatever, Mike spent pretty much all day in the office reorganizing the company files. OK, sure, he needs to become familiar with our clients and the work we've done for them before, but this went on for weeks and weeks.
So, I'm working away, and another designer is working away, and at that time, we had a lot of work — we were pretty buried at the time. I get a call from our largest client at the time telling me that the copy for their monthly catalog was ready. I'd always gone over to pick it up before — our largest client, remember — but I am just swamped and have deadlines bearing down on me. I ask Mike if he'd go over to pick up the copy. Rather than recognizing the situation and helping out, he gave me a long lecture about why, no, the client should come to us with the copy.
I was so mad. I grabbed my coat and blew out of the office, running over and picking up the copy. It took me almost an hour that I couldn't afford, but, again — biggest client.
Later on, there were... issues. Mike had taken it upon himself to speak with our client — a nice woman, just a little high strung — and that hadn't gone well. She came into our office and it was easy to see that she wasn't happy about what Mike had told her. Anyway, we get the issues worked out. She's still mad, but I think we're all good.
As she's walking out the door, though, Mike pats the client on the back. She rounds on him, her eyes on fire, and says, "Do not every touch me again." She then storms out of the office.
I rush out, following her to the parking lot to apologize for Mike's behavior (you know things are bad when I'm the voice of reason). She was mad, but she wasn't mad at us — we'd always bent over backward to get her catalogs done on time and she knew it. She was mad at Mike. He didn't do anything but add more stress to her already stressful job.
I was so angry. Later, I starting writing in a notebook I kept at my desk. I was just venting into it, as I was wont to do. When I went home, I left my notebook on the desk. Mike took my notebook and read my notes (the term "less than useless" cropped up more than once) and took it to the firm's owner.
The boss called me in to talk about my notes. I was livid. I'd never been so angry at someone in my life. So, fine, I laid out everything that I had written in my notes as a way of venting about the situation.
The boss ultimately concluded that Mike was a luxury that we could no longer afford and fired him. I became the manager, but I was also the only employee, as the other designer had quit during this period. There was no way I could possibly bring in enough money to keep the place going, but apparently the owner wasn't very good at math.
What a disaster.