My eyes glazed over, as they usually did when he went off, there was a window behind The CPA’s desk and I would stare out the window as I stood in front of his desk, I would wish that I were out there, instead of in here with this fat, short, bald guy with coffee breath screaming obscenities at me.
As I look at what I write it seems shocking to me, but at the time it was so blasé. While not a super common occurrence, getting screamed at was a pretty normal part of the workday. The CPA gave me tons of work to do, which I didn’t mind, but he would never show me how to do what he wanted, or in what way he wanted something done. I used to ask for some guidance but all he would ever say was, “Look back!”
That meant look at what had been done previously and deduce from that how to do what you were working on now. Mistakes were unacceptable as well. That was a pleasant combo, figure out on your own how to do something that is new, with the knowledge that any mistake, even a name misspelling would bring about the CPA’s wrath.
“Thank you, Lord, for this good job,” I prayed on that Saturday night, after leaving the call center.
“You aren’t sure that it is good yet,” Wife #1 cautioned, but I shrugged it off. How could this NOT be a good job? I had suffered patiently through the call center, through stocking shelves at Pier One; I had even applied to work at Wendy’s. I had sacrificed and prayed and God had seen me through the wilderness and it was over! I knew this for a fact. That is one reason why the first time The CPA exploded at me I was so shocked. I sat at my desk for a half hour, staring out the window, knowing that I couldn’t quit, I had been without a real job for so long that we needed the money a decent paying job brought in. So I had to accept his verbal abuse. Day after day, week after week, being called a “fucking idiot” doesn’t really get old, especially not when it is screamed at you time after time. He had no regard for me.
I hated him.
I was confused, why had God put me through all that crap just to spit on me? I was down on the ground, did I really need that last kick? Was He chuckling, having a grand old laugh at His latest practical joke?
When I was younger I went to a Christian school called N.E.C.A. They gave awards at the end of the year based on Godly values that each person displayed throughout the year. After one tough year I was awarded the Perseverance Award. I’m just too stubborn to quit; I don’t like to lose so I don’t give up. It became almost a game, The CPA had to be on his last legs, I could outlive the bastard easily.
I noticed that certain words that I had thought firmly locked away were creeping back into my vocabulary again as I was exposed to language so foul it would make a whore blush. Maybe I should have cleaned the language up as I write this, but it seems a lie, like I have said in the past, if you are offended by what I’m writing, I’m not forcing you to read it, but I will accept all donations through Paypal still.
So I worked as hard as I could, I worked as error free as I could, and waited for a new job to come along or for The CPA’s heart to give out, either was an acceptable solution to me.
1 comment:
Sounds a bit like my job at Erie County Farms....
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