04/20/07
It has been said that The Rambling Man has a problem dealing with authority figures. I don’t disagree. I am sure Freud would chalk it up to my early childhood experiences with my parents, but I don’t totally agree with that evaluation. It is also said that this type of psychological reaction is due to the person feeling they can do a better job at being the authority figure than they feel the authority is doing. That I agree with. It is for that reason I have come to the conclusion I don’t have a problem dealing with authority figures. I have a problem dealing with incompetent authority figures.
I am sure most of my readers have had several different types of bosses up to this point in their lives. This not only includes parents, but also school teachers, superior officers in the military, officers of an organization or club to which one may belong, wives (for those guys who are married), and of course those who are our so-called superiors where we work. We have all had bosses we liked. And we have all had bosses we didn’t like. The Rambling Man has actually had a few bosses he respected and liked, although the vast majority were incompetent idiots. Now, I don’t want any of my readers to get the idea my personal feelings come into play when assessing the incompetence of some of the assholes who have been my boss in the past. The fact that I didn’t like them had nothing to do with the fact that they were incompetent assholes. They were incompetent assholes long before I came along, and I am positive they continued in that role after I moved on.
About four years ago The Rambling Man “retired” from a job in which he had a boss he both liked and respected. It was a shame because there certainly haven’t been many of those in the past. And I am sure those of my readers out there who actually read the Friday Ramble know I have attempted several other jobs since my initial retirement. Of all of those jobs there was only one boss I both liked and respected. I won’t go into detail, but she’ll know who she is when she reads this.
The last (and final…or so I thought) time I went into semi-retirement I decided to sit down and do some in-depth soul searching. Yes, dear readers, The Rambling Man does have a soul. Sometimes he has to search for it, but he does have one. Since I had spent many of my working years as a vocational counselor I decided to use some of my expertise on myself. Who better to advise me what to do than someone whose opinion I value above all others? The first thing I advised myself to do was to list what I did and didn’t like about all of the jobs I have had. Since there have been so many different jobs it took quite a while to list everything. I’m sure it comes as no surprise to most of my readers that the list of things I didn’t like was three times longer than the things I did. I didn’t like working long hours for little pay. I did like the opportunity to make money in a short amount of time. I didn’t like working in an office because of the inevitable office politics which come into play. I did like being able to make my own decisions and feel like I had some control over what I did and how I did it. After a short time I came to a realization. The ideal job for me would be something in which I could make my own hours (as many or as few as I want), have some freedom to make my own decisions, make enough money to make it seem worthwhile, and the most important thing was to work for a boss whom I liked and respected.
My next task was to determine which jobs would qualify. It seemed like no matter what I came up with I would also come up with a reason why I shouldn’t or couldn’t take the job. I considered playing in the NBA, but at 6’4” I’m probably not tall enough. I considered becoming an astronaut, but I’m afraid of heights. I thought about being a professional figure skater, but I’m heterosexual. I considered going into politics, but I am way too honest and I would need more than one closet in which to hide all the skeletons from my past. I thought it might be fun to be a porn star, but I come up short in the necessary magnitude of equipment (if you know what I mean).
I finally concluded that the only job at which I could happily work and that would assure I would both like and respect my boss would be if I worked for myself. I have all of the characteristics I like in a boss, and since I usually get along with myself quite well it seemed like a natural. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner. At the same time I came to the realization I should do something I actually enjoy doing. Since I had already ruled out porn star I eventually determined I enjoy hanging out at the gym watching women working out in spandex tights and sports bras. It then occurred to me. Personal Trainer. Of course. I could set my own schedule, work as many or as few hours as I wanted, provide a positive service while helping people to become healthier and feel good about themselves, watch women in spandex all day, and best of all I would be working for my favorite person, me.
Everything was going along wonderfully. I was making more money for working fewer hours than I ever had before. I was training young women who were dressed in spandex. My work clothes consisted of sneakers, sweatpants and a T-shirt. And I was getting along so well with my boss that he told me he was considering giving me a raise. Then it happened.
One morning I received a memo from my boss telling me that due to the possibility of excess absenteeism plus fear of lawsuits and other such legal problems a mandatory random drug testing policy was being implemented immediately. I didn’t think I had the right to tell me how I could live my own life outside the workplace, but my boss disagreed and my protestations fell on my own deaf ears. I put in a call to Barry Bonds. After all, if anybody knows about passing random drug tests it’s Barry. He never got back to me. Then the inevitable day came. Since I was my only employee my name was randomly chosen and it was my turn. Against my wishes I made myself pee in a cup. It took a few days for the results to come back, but I knew what the outcome would be. I was called into my office, and as I sat in front of a mirror I could see the disappointment in my eyes. I told myself I had been a good worker and that I would be missed. And then, with what I could tell was a very heavy heart, I was forced to fire myself. I didn’t take it personally, nor did I have any hard feelings against myself. After all, I was only doing my job.
After a few days of being unemployed I decided the best thing for me to do would be to retire permanently. I mean, if I can’t work for myself who can I work for? I sat down and wrote myself a long letter thanking myself for being such a good boss and excellent employee all at the same time, but explaining I had decided I didn’t want to work for anyone else ever again. Not even myself. I then performed the ritualistic burning of the resume’. That made it official. It was done.
And so starts the next chapter in the ongoing saga of The Rambling Man. What will be next? Where will life lead? I know, but I have decided it will be more fun if I don’t tell myself and just let it be a surprise.