From Part Time to Parting Time

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­ Squinting through my windshield in a rare January downpour that had people exclaiming, “Thank goodness this isn’t snow,” I drove to my alma mater for what turned out to be a perfunctory interview with the woman who would be my boss. Then I spoke with her boss. Neither of them asked many questions. Neither was interested in my references. I figured they were desperate to get a replacement hired quickly, and didn’t want to waste time on a full-blown interview. It was 1996, and the director of the program that had awarded my master’s degree had recommended me to fill in temporarily for an employee at the college who’d gone on maternity leave.

The Monday I showed up for work, the HR representative raised her eyebrows and peered at me over the papers on her desk.

“You know your boss quit last Friday?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“And her boss quit, too.”

So, there had been some managerial transitions. I didn’t care; mine was only a three-month commitment.

Just before the end of my placeholder period, the woman I was subbing for called to say she had decided to stay home with her baby. I agreed to remain a little longer, as a part-time employee.

Then I became a full-time, permanent employee. Managing the college’s ads and publications was interesting work. My colleagues were smart, sensitive and funny. I respected the college’s mission—who doesn’t like seeing students blossom? The campus, with its grand marble staircase that somehow suggested serious purpose, suited me; I even liked the acrid aroma of overcooked popcorn rising from a basement corridor. From the tiny alcove where I worked, I could see herons glide serenely above the urban fray below. It was the workplace for which I’d been searching for decades.

One promotion followed another, as summer follows spring, until I became a director. I noticed that the college seemed beset by executive turnover, but I couldn’t know that in the 11 years I would ultimately work there, I would have 11 bosses. One would last a mere seven months.

My first few bosses were benign. Then I got the one with the bad memory who, in my performance review, fussed with her scarf and inadvertently read me someone else’s (poor) evaluation.

She was followed by The Great Boss, who brought out the best in our team. I would come home at night chirping, “I love my job and I love my boss!” Sadly, she left after three years.

Then I got the interim manager who just stared at me when I spoke to him.