What's Up With Boris?

My boss, Boris, used to always say to me “Good work.” I found it kind of weird, unnecessary even. Oh, you know, too cliched for my liking. I don’t really know what it was about it, now that I try to write it down, it was kind of like getting patted on the head as a child and told you were a good kid. It was kind of demeaning, what a good boy am I. In a way, it sounded like she was saying, what a good inferior one you are.

Oh, yes, I know what it sounds like. You just can’t please some people. Others would kill to be told they did good work. Yes, yes, blah, blah, blah. I know.

Never the less, it always made me feel uncomfortable. It was too produced, almost robotic, it was the sort of compliment programmed AI would give.

Anyway, she has stopped saying it. It may well be my fault. There have been a couple of things where she has put responsibility onto me that I really felt was hers. She is the manager, I choose not to be the manager because I am no one to suck up in the corporate world, I know that. I can only just bare the corporate types. You guys are not doing anything that is important, the world would get on just fine, and in fact probably do better, without you. So, stop taking yourselves so seriously. I feel I wisely don’t put myself in the merry-go-round of job affirming meetings and dick sucking sessions that the corporate types feel they have to do to justify their jobs. She chooses to be the manager, so be the manager.

There have been a couple of mistakes lately, sure there have, but again Boris is the manager and the buck stops with her. Oh, nothing that a career flake like myself should care about, but if you are wanting to climb the corporate ladder maybe they are important, shrug, but, you know, as far as I am concerned that is just the cost of doing business. None of us are infallible, and we shouldn’t be expected to be.

But, you know, it is more than that, I can feel it. I sense that Boris has thrown me under the bus recently unbeknownst to me. Most of the time we communicate by email, but there have been phone calls and while I can’t put my finger on it specifically, something has changed, there is a sense of defensiveness that has crept in. I don’t know how, and I don’t know when, but I reckon Boris has knifed me.

Good thing a care I do not give.