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WORK & MONEY GETTING CANNED & LOVING IT PART 2: HANGING ON Published April 22, 1996 Previous columns by Harry Goldstein

My employers had asked me to do the impossible: wield the whip over a co-worker. I just couldn't bring myself to force Thad to come in on time or do his work more carefully. So I did the next best thing. I told him what the Trinity was up to. He didn't care; he had been planning to stick around until he got fired, but he was so fed up after the tongue lashings he had endured over the past month from Mary Squared, that he walked a few days after I told him about the squeeze play and my role as designated bunter. Alone behind the administrative desk, I quickly realized how much heat Thad had been taking for the both of us. Suddenly the weight of the entire organization was on my shoulders, including the odious task of maintaining the inventory, billing clients and dealing with outstanding accounts receivable -- formerly Thad's exclusive domain. Between my regular duties of tracking grant applications, maintaining contact with our chapter offices and the endless toil of computer systems maintenance, I had to learn the inventory software -- the dubiously entitled Solomon. I had to directly supervise the interns, who were very busy doing nothing. The job of setting up our new forum on America Online fell to me during this period as well, as did the derision and frustration of the Trinity. Communications Mary began to use her verbal skills, such as they were, to abuse me at every opportunity, upping the harassment quotient by speaking to me only after she had indulged her favorite lunch of garlic bread and tuna fish, always punctuating her complaints with pained, breathy sighs or by telling me the exact degree to which I was "fucking up" her life. Charles, the development director, began blustering and blubbering his way through every interaction with me, as if it were my fault that a) Thad, who he liked, had quit and b) I could only handle so many tasks at once. If I was supervising the interns during a crucial grant application mailing, I had a hard time answering the phones and maintaining the files at the same time, a concept he couldn't wrap his mind around. Director Mary was surprisingly calm throughout the ordeal, occasionally calling me into her office to teach her how to use the mouse on her computer or to see if I had gotten a mailing out to the board of directors. Or to make sure that she got her lunch in time. Or to order her a car service to take her to the doctor. Or to get a maid service to clean her apartment. Or to pay off the window washers who were climbing in her office asking for money. Our little chats provided her with the opportunity to emphasize the little things that required vigilant attention to detail. "Thad had attention deficit syndrome, you know," she croaked ominously. "I hope it's not contagious." Despite the fact that every morning I swallowed a crushing sense of dread along with my coffee, I dug my heels in deeper as my six month anniversary approached, refusing to succumb to the overwhelming temptation to quit until I had qualified for unemployment benefits. My six month review went pretty much as I had expected: the usual complaints about my supervisory skills, my idiosyncratic filing methods and my general lack of team spirit. Surprisingly, my computer maintenance skills were lauded, especially the yeoman's job I did to rescue the New York City chapter's new 486 machine that had been sabotaged by a disgruntled temp who had opened up the main box and switched around a bunch of chips on the motherboard. I liked field work only because it meant time away from IMPROVE. I mentioned to Director Mary that I found that kind of work very satisfying and would love to do more. She grunted softly to indicate that she had heard me and then ended the review with a veiled threat and a new assignment: my attitude had to improve over the course of the next few months, or else my position would have to be re-evaluated. Also, and this was the kicker, I wasn't going to have to train Thad's replacement, Donna, on th e Solomon inventory software. Instead, I was to show her the ins and outs of my position. The Trinity intended for me to train my way out of my job and into Thad's. I glided out of Director Mary's office, over to my desk and smiled a cat-gnawing-a-canary grin at Donna, who had just started the day before. I had made it to my magic six month anniversary and qualified for unemployment benefits. I was going to train myself into a less stressful job. And I was going to wait to get fired -- no matter how uncomfortable the Trinity would make it for me. Donna just shook her head and kept asking me "What?" "What's going on?" "What's that creepy smile for?" "Nothing," I said. "Come over here. I've got some things to show you." (final installment next week!) Harry Goldstein is a writer and editor living in Manhattan. His work has appeared in Utne Reader, American Book Review, Promethean, AltX, word.com, and other periodicals. © 1996 Harry Goldstein, All Rights Reserved