According to legend, bad things happen in threes, like deaths, earthquakes, and “Teen Mom” shows on MTV. The same could be said for the horrible bosses I encountered while working at a resort in Connecticut.
My job was to make lip sync music videos with the guests. Parading around with a video camera and boom box and encouraging people to lip sync “Call Me Maybe” while carelessly descending down a zip line was something I actually did for a living. Sounds like the best job in the world, right?
Due to the resort being understaffed, my job duties expanded to making beds, woperating the lights in the night club, instructing archery, and leading mountain hikes. Not since Barbie did someone have so many different job titles, and at least she got to be an Air Force pilot, figure skater, flight attendant, babysitter, and astronaut. No fair!
My first bad encounter with one of my bosses was when my newest job duty was to stand on a ladder and scrub the roof of a party tent with a mop from the dollar store.
“We're really scheduled to do this for the next three hours?” I asked a coworker. “A pressure washer might be more efficient and quicker than 10 people with mops.”
She must have overheard me complaining, because the next day, she made an announcement to the entire staff that anyone who had a problem mopping tents could leave, while staring directly at me.
If I took her advice, I could have avoided my second horrible boss experience there.
The co-owner, Vince, was this old guy who was constantly chasing me down with ideas for the lip sync videos.
“Why aren't you filming right now?” he'd ask.
“Because I'm scheduled to make beds, and I have a tent to mop after that,” I'd answer.
One day, I was sitting on the toilet, and I heard a knock on the bathroom door.
“Justin, are you in there?” he asked.
“I'm going to the bathroom,” I answered.
Instead of walking away, he spent the next 10 minutes talking through the door about ideas for the next video.
When the season ended, I thought I'd never have to hear from my horrible bosses again.
A few weeks later, the other co-owner, Dick, sent me a loooong email IN ALL CAPS complaining that I stole his costumes to play beer pong with Rocky on 98.5 KRZ and he WANTED THEM BACK, even though I had permission and returned them.
To prove his point, he sent me a screenshot of my column from The Weekender's website, with “How to Take a Screen Shot” visible on the next tab. Not only was my horrible boss stalking me, but he was Googling how to do it and sent a picture of it!
That was the last I ever heard from them. I guess even horrible bosses like to go out with a bang.