MY CHILLING EXPERIENCE AS AN OFFICE WORKER

In many ways I've been lucky regarding my work experience. For 50 years I was a free-lance graphic designer, illustrator and portrait artist with my own business. It was a sole proprietorship and I worked alone. I wore all of the necessary hats to handle a small business, and wore them well. To sum it up, I was my own boss in my own studio; and thus, insulated from the precarious ride on the roiling cataracts of the workplace. That was about to change.

I had weathered 911, The Great Recession, and Covid; but immediately after Putin's Invasion clients melted away and my business shut down. Well, I still had bills to pay, and food to put on the table. I was 75 and knew that, despite the fact that laws in America discourage age discrimination, there's a wink and a nudge regarding those rules; so I turned to an organization within the Texas Workforce that trains and places seniors. It took about three months waiting, and in the summer I was placed in a little host nonprofit office close to home, where I learned to take calls and open cases using a special computer program for folks who needed help with their housing bills. It was always busy. I really took to the work because I was genuinely able to help some desperate people out from under looming evictions, disconnects, and water and cooking gas shutoffs. The icing on the cake was my wonderful boss. She knew the rules of her trade like the palm of her hand. and had a vast knowledge of the nonprofit business. The minute I walked into her office and introduced myself her face lit up and she welcomed me warmly. She helped me slide gently into my duties. She could disarm difficult people without histrionics. Her attitude toward me (and the other workers) consistently shone with a soupçon of discipline and a big dollop of unfailing good humor. She was a very reassuring presence. She was so comfortable in her own skin that she needed no facade, no chest thumping - as if to resoundingly shout "I'm boss here!" While she was our supervisor I was happy to show up for work.

But those halcyon days couldn't last forever. Around Thanksgiving she moved on to another job, and her next in line, a large expressive woman who seemed friendly and sincere, took over as supervisor; but as time progressed you could feel the air being sucked out of the place. I suspect her new position brought out a hefty dose of paranoia. Where before there had been the happy sounds of conversation and exchanges of information in between calls, and lots of munchies and drinks, now there was only subtle intimidation plus a fearful silence. She did not bother to replenish the snacks, and the coffee machine stood forlorn and empty. Mandatory meetings were called. They included petty tirades about snacks being taken without permission, computer cables being ripped out of wall sockets, and trash being dropped into hidden spaces. It was singularly disturbing to listen to her. In a friendlier moment she even confided to me that the case manager, whom she hated, had stolen a check meant to pay a client's rent (I don't believe that now). The woman constantly moaned about all of the sacrifices she had made for this office, and, in turn would complain about employee ingratitude. By that time the office atmosphere had turned icy. If anyone reading this has ever read the book "The Caine Mutiny" by Herman Wouk, they would surely remember Captain Queeg. I was lucky enough to get off this ship. A few days ago I did.