When I was in the second grade, my teacher taught me how to use my nails and scratch boys who weren’t leaving me alone. In retrospect, that wasn’t a good thing to be taught. And I was horrifyingly good at it. (Sorry, Nathan O! Still friends?)
When I hit college, I worked five jobs (FIVE!) in order to make ends meet. Little jobs. I did telephone surveys (sorry, world!), promo for the college, mentoring (sorry, sweet little girls that I must have warped!) tutoring, and I spent two hours a night cleaning the business building on campus. My first boss there was a darling navy man. And apparently my wide eyes and blonde hair made him think that I was going to be accosted at every turn.
After I’d clean, he’d spend the last 15 minutes of every night teaching me how to fill a sock with a roll of quarters, swing it over my head, and inflict bodily harm with it. He’d set up targets and have me take them down. He taught me to tie a knot in the sock so I could let it fly and knock things down across the room. Nobody would be safe once my Hanes sock and I were in the ‘hood. Then he’d make the geeky guy across the hall walk back to the dorms with me. Probably so I could protect skinny El Geekster from the hoodlums that cased small Utah towns in the dead of night. Safety first.
My boss was such a sweet, sweet man. Every time I’d knock the dustpan off the top of the broom, he’d grin at me like I just did the greatest thing in the world. Although I knew I’d never prowl the area with a white sock, and that every roll of quarters would go to feed the campus washing machine, I enjoyed the lessons. The last day that I worked for him, he patted my shoulder and told me that he trusted me to have his back in any bar fight. It was delightful.
Do you have any old bosses that you think of fondly?