yick. blech. eek. Mmm.
That is my feeling about being the boss' daughter. I hate this day more than any other, all year. The first day back to the office. The first day meeting the new crew (which, invariably, has changed since I last worked here...). The first day when everyone realizes again, for the first time, that I the daughter of the guy who signs the checks...
Have you ever been in this position? Do your parents ever drag you with them to work to either help out around the office or, worse, work on your own smack? It is really uncomfortable. No one knows how to relate to you and, truthfully, you don't know how to relate to them, either. How do you even address them? Some of the people here have worked with my Dad-- or have been our neighbors (because my Dad is definetely someone who hires from his friends and family network!)-- for years and years. Therefore, I am in the habit of referring to them by their polite company names (e.g., Mr. McNeirney or Mr. Tumulski). New people, however... I don't know what to do with them. They often only introduce themselves with their first names and, at 26, even if they include their last names, it is probably more appropriate and less awkward for me to call them by their given name, only. Ostesibly, though, that creates a status differential that I don't mean-- it happens that the people I have known since I was little (and, therefore, get the "star" formal treatment) are, probably just because they are so frackin' old, in higher positions within the company. Do you think it makes people uncomfortable that I refer to them with formality and others more informally? Do you think that sends a message I don't mean? Referring to Mr. McNeirney and Mr. Tumulski as "John" and "Rich" is absolutely *NOT* an option; it would be crazy uncomfortable for me and my Dad would probably punish my insolent tongue by washing out my mouth with soap (well, probably not, but my parents are pretty strict about respect. Especially at the office. My Dad is worried that people will think I think I have more power than I do.. and, for the record, I have none and I know it-- I am not even frickin' employed here! It is just important to my Dad that everyone understands that *I* understand that I am at the very bottom of the totum pole).
As the summer goes on, truthfully, things usually don't get much better. People aren't sure how to talk around me. Should they keep silent around me, afraid I will report back if they were just airing their stress about a bad day? Or, do they instead engage me in their discussions of office politics and disdain for particular people-- including my Dad?!!?!?!! One woman who worked with my Dad a few years ago was particularly afraid of him (his Irish temper definetely surfaces while he is at work-- he gets explosively pissed when he gets angry-- and often that level of anger is only fueled by total stupidity when someone is completing an otherwise little task. In that way he is like you, Peter: Bill Burns H-A-T-E-S stupid people!). She basically made me play mediator between the two all summer-- NOT a comfortable place to be!!!
Today I was placed in my friend Dave's office, because he works out of his home in Madison all but 2 or 3 days a month. I was kind of excited about this (not that it is an exciting office-- he is, after all, only here about five minutes a year.. it is just a windowless box) because it meant I would be a little out of the way and then, perhaps, under the radar a bit... not so, though. I went into the lunch room to get a spoon and heard people talking about how cushy it must be to be the boss' daughter-- from the street to an office in .5 seconds. I wasn't sure how to respond to this. First, it wasn't directed at me (just about me), so it didn't seem appropriate to respond. Second, what the hell can I say? It is true (or at least looks that way). The truth is it was just easiest to shove me in here for today, but come tomorrow I am out on the floor with everyone else; my Dad just didn't have time to deal with me and so dropped me in here. Third, I don't want to be here at all!! It is just that my parents are MAKING me come here! Because they are the most hands on parents in America!! Please, my Dad makes me give him an oral progress report on the drive home every day and then I am to submitt a written memorandum, stating my accomplishments to date, every Friday afternoon. I would rather be ANYWHERE besides here!!
AH!!! I hate this feeling! It is that uncomfortable, icky, stomache-nawing. Ick ick ick!! My Dad is going out of town for the next two days, but assures me that I can come into the office without him-- yeah, right!!! Buffalo Public Library, here I come!!!! Anywhere but here!!
So, after this long post (I am sorry, friends! To you especially, Peter: I know wordiness antogonizes you... and, in this genre, forces you to do your least favorite thing-- read!), what are your thoughts, friends? Any advice-- from personal experiences or just life in general? Anything? Bueller, Bueller, Bueller... (if you didn't get that allusion because you are too young and 80s pop culture ignorant, take the penalty. That was a BRILLIANT flick which any sense whatsoever requires you to view!!)
Thanks in advance for your help!
Love,
La hija (triste)del jefe
