Resting Boss Face
I returned to work in a junior administrative role after taking several years out to have kids. My first boss was awful, a raging bull of a man who flipped at the drop of a hat. He was finally fired for punching a cleaning lady, but that’s a whole different story. My manager had just started. He’s a huge, older man with a face like thunder, and I was scared of him.
It’s my second week working with the new boss, and my kid threw up all over the car on the way to school. I turned up super late, after being late twice in the previous week.
My new boss called me into the office.
New Boss: “Why were you late today?”
Me: *Crying.* “Oh, my god, I’m so sorry. I’m not a basket case, I promise, please don’t fire me.”
New Boss: “Look at me. Stop crying. Why. Are. You. Late?”
Me: *Melting down completely.* “Oh, my god, please don’t fire me… I’m so sorry, please don’t fire me.”
New Boss: *Literally squeezing the top of his nose.* “You’re not listening to me; I’m asking you to please tell me why you are late. What’s the issue? My predecessor said a lot of very unpleasant things about you, but I am here for a reason; we have a clean slate, and right now I’m getting a sense that you are overwhelmed and need help. Talk. To. Me.”
Me: “My kid got sick. I’m a single mom, I have to take him to daycare every day, and it only opens at eight, and if he’s sick they won’t take him so I need to find a backup and I have to be at work by 8:15 so if there’s traffic—”
New Boss: “—Stop. So, what you’re telling me is that 8:15 is an unreasonable start time for you, and you need to start at 08:30?”
Me: *Staring at him as if he had grown two heads.* “Yes, but… the rules… uh…”
New Boss: “Screw the rules; I make the rules. I expect you at work at 8:30, and if you’re going to be late, you need to call me before then to tell me so. What time do you pick up your kid every day?”
Me: “They close at five, so—”
New Boss: “—So, you need to leave at 4:30 PM. By my calculation, that means you’re an hour short a day, so I expect you to answer emails and take calls until 7:30 PM. Otherwise, I will judge you on projects completed and work done. Oh… and if you have an issue in the future, and you need my support, you need to talk to me.”
I kind of gasped for a while, but he was good to his word.
Over the next five years, he supported me in every way; he insisted I get trained, and he rewarded me for getting the job done. As a result, I lived and died for him as a manager. I went out of my way to make him look good. I made the company a lot of money. I mean, a lot, a lot. It’s one thing to talk about terrible managers, but the worst thing is that really good ones, great ones, create so much value.
