I have not seen the new movie, “Horrible Bosses.” I don’t need to see Jennifer Aniston in her underwear eating every variety of vegetable that screams of looking a tad phallic. When I go to the produce department at my local supermarket, I shy away from the HUGE cucumbers and zucchinis – not because they are all seeds, but because I don’t know how to pick them up without some guy looking over at me and winking.

Does She Look Familiar?

So this is not about produce dos and don’ts, but about horrible bosses. And I have had a few. Haven’t we all?

The thing that upsets me about horrible bosses is not that these people shouldn’t be bosses because they are dreadful human beings (but a damn good reason), but because all the horrible bosses I have had were women. So much for sisterhood being powerful. I have been asking intelligent women I know about their horror stories about the miserable low life, the scum you scrap off the bottom of your shoe bosses and they said they were women.

Why are we doing this to each other?

My horrible bitches –  am not using the word  boss anymore – they didn’t deserve the title and I am sure there are a few wonderful bosses who are women out there. Where?

I had one who made sacrificial lambs out of all the women in the department – one by one. There were no men in our department – it would have been nice if they had shared their findings with us. Could have prevented a lot of heartache. I thought she would have spared me since we knew some of the same people in the industry (and they told me their horror stories), but NO, my turn came. So when the other women in the department meekly asked me what my plan was, I did the only thing I could do. I hustled and found another job. But not before I reported her to the HR department and brought her up on religious discrimination charges.  And she got her ass whipped. You can’t be a horrible bitch and break the law. Not around me you can’t. I have to say that all of those women went on working with her until she finally got fired. Just love ya, Karma.

And then I had the twin bitches at the next company. How lucky can one girl get?  I went from one bitch on wheels to the torturing duo – my own little two headed monster. Karma must have been on vacation or in jail.

I got 2 for the prices of one. How lucky can a girl get?

They both started off saying lovely things about me. That was Mistake #1. Silly me, I never learn. I experienced a living hell with these women (who had procreated and did not eat all their young – how odd is that) and watched them trample the souls of the people who worked hard for them. Doing a good job and not putting something in the engine of their car was not enough. Making you feel like shit and making the occasional tear nosedive down your cheek was mother’s milk to them. My God, they loved to see us in pain almost as much as they loved causing it.

And how did they get away with it? Friends in high places who I can only assume loved to get their bottoms smacked by them. Just my theory, folks. I have no scientific evidence to prove my theory, just a strong gut feeling. But these higher ups turned a blind eye to the abuse and it was abuse. Karma would like to have a few words with you jackals. Karma didn’t make bail and is really pissed off.

So I would like to put women bosses (well, the majority of them. I know there are some extraordinary ones out there. Where?) on notice. You do not beat on someone’s ego because you fear that people will find out that you are a fake. Breaking News: you are a fake and we knew it. The only difference between you and decent people is that you held our jobs in your hands. You should never have been able to dangle our essence on a pole while running down the hall with your hair on fire.

In the end, we may have needed antacids to get over you, but we will still have our dignity and people who like us. No matter how many times you made us cry.

And Jennifer Aniston, put some damn clothes on. I don’t feel like writing another “I hate my body” blog.


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