And so this morning I sat at the 1,000 ft. long conference table (Oh! Excuse me! The 1,000-foot-long conference table) with Mr. Head Honcho of this proposal-from-hell, and my boss, Madam Micrmngr (from hell), to review the still-in-progress (but close to being completed) proposal-from-hell that Madam had snatched out of my hands taken home with her over the weekend to “take a peek at”.
Now, Mr. Head Honcho is a relatively fair-minded fellow (most of the time) and he and I had been comparing notes very regularly along the way, and I had spent many, many, MANY hours making absolute certain that I was addressing exactly what he wanted addressed, in the exact manner in which he wanted them addressed, to the point where I would even ask him during our meetings when he was being very quiet and studious over a particular element: “So, Mr. Head Honcho, what exactly are you thinking?” Because, you see, I obviously couldn’t presume to read his mind, but I felt it was necessary and important to be clear about where his mind was going so that I didn’t make any wrong-ass presumptions. (I actually think he appreciated that). He has been really good about providing much of the technical information, and I’ve been very diligent about editing down long-winded and passive-verb-heavy diatribe that Madam had provided, like this:
Madam’s Version: As such, the work was accomplished in a timely manner by qualified individuals as employed with XXX Company, and was regarded in a highly satisfactory manner by the client.
My Version: XXX Company’s highly skilled team members successfully completed the work on time and within budget, exceeding the client’s expectations.
OK? Get the picture? (However, multiply the length of the diatribe by at least 30, and the volume of diatribe by 20 and that equals a gazillion hours of tedium, as you can imagine).
So, back to that 1,000 ft. long, I mean 1,000-foot-long conference table. Madam opens up the hellacious proposal-in-progress that she “took a peek at” over the weekend, and I almost gasped out loud because there was BLOOD splashed everywhere! She quickly thumbed through the 100 pages and there was blood on every single page! Tons of it! Splashed! All over! Somebody had been gutted over the weekend!!
Yup, I was gutted all right. With red ink. She ripped apart every single word, every single sentence, every single acronym, the order of the entire document, the content of the entire document, the dashes, the semi-colons, the f$%@ing PERIODS. She questioned Mr. Head Honcho’s choices, and accused me of not challenging those choices. (Huh?) Lots of: “I wouldn’t have done it this way.” Loosely translated to: “What were you thinking, you idiots?” While I might have been shocked into silence (as well as fear of what might bluster forth from my lips), Mr. Head Honcho was having none of it.
Mr. Head Honcho: “I am absolutely stunned, Madam Bitch! Why would you spend so much time and energy on aspects of this proposal that are petty and ridiculous? Who gives a s&$t if it’s “individuals” or “team members”? What on earth do you think you’re accomplishing? Word processing hasn’t even had a chance to proof it yet – is that your job now? You’ve taken that over, too? What is your point here? I am absolutely disgusted! This is by far the best [of this type] of proposal we have done to date, and you rip it to pieces like this?”
But Madam Micrmngr thrives on this kind of “interaction”. Her body language was like she was almost sexually charged with her power. With a smirk, her response was this:
“Well, Mr. Head Honcho, I guess I just have extremely high standards.”
Gag me.
Unfortunately, that pretty much took the steam out of Mr. Head Honcho. Here I was quietly thrilled by his laying into her like he did, but then he sat back and never uttered another word. Madam took this as having made her point, having won the battle and the entire war, and so she continued to rip and ream. And then, when she had apparently climaxed, she said to me, “Tonny, consider this a learning experience.”
Oh yes, indeed.
Apparently, I have to abide by her wishes and redo 90% of the submittal – to her “standards”. At the same time that I’m racing toward yet another deadline on another submittal that I have barely begun. Not only am I furious with her, but I’m extremely frustrated and discouraged with how Mr. Head Honcho just sat back and allowed her to have her way. No support after all.
My job totally and absolutely sucks. I totally and absolutely hate it. And if I get "Dooced" for blogging this, so be it.
