Life at work has been particularly tumultuous in recent days. Big Boss M is moving into another role in the company, and won't be my boss any longer. He called me into his office a few days ago to let me know, and I at once recoiled in shock and horror.
"So I won't be your manager any longer," he concluded his explanation.
"What! I quit."I said firmly. Half the reason I love my job is because of Big Boss M's kindly presence.
"Don't be silly," he admonished. "You're going to have a new manager, Richie Rich. I don't know him very well, but he seems great."
"Richie Rich...." I rolled the name about in my mind to get a sense for it. Then, "I don't like him," I declared emphatically.
"Isn't that a bit immature?" Big Boss M pointed out, "I mean, you haven't even met him yet."
"Yes but he's not you! He's going to be just awful, and I'll hate working with him."
Big Boss M simply rolled his eyes, which, for some inexplicable reason, seems to be how all our conversations end.
So I had decided from the onset that I would hate Richie Rich. He was going to be a cruel, incompassionate capitalist, and all joy would be sucked out of my working life forever, and he wouldn't find humour in the odd facial expressions I make when I'm thinking, and things would just never be the same. I moped about with an expression of doom and gloom for a while.
Then Richie Rich came into the office the other day to meet me. Over a coffee, we sat down for an hour, tentatively getting to know each other. Each evaluating, judging and categorising everything about the other.
It took me all of five minutes to realise that despite my own stubborn insistence, I found myself liking him instantly. I'd hate to admit it to anyone, but he was warm, funny, energetic, bright - just about everything I'd want in a new boss. Despite myself, I discovered a smile plastered across my face.
Okay, so maybe it won't be so bad after all.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment