I received a visit from
an old acquaintance the other day. We used to work together when we
were just starting out. Naturally we began to reminisce about the old days when we'd just gotten out of university and were starting on our first jobs. Since he could make or break us we liven in
terror of the boss, who’s name was Ed, Now it seems silly but at
the time it was very serious – and if we should ever forget how
serious it was Ed would be sure to remind us.
He was a killer. He
actually had the nerve to pretend he was taking it easy on us – but
he couldn’t be too gentle; couldn’t allow bad habits to fester.
One time one of us tried to use a colloquialism in a piece of little
consequence. First Ed said, “Scratch that”, and the guy replied,
in jest, “Well you know Dante used the vernacular all the time.”
Ed’s face turned as
red as an Indians. The whole office stopped as Ed laid down the law. First he gave a presumptory, clipped laugh and then he began to growl.
“You?” Dante? My ass!
Where do you get off throwing that Dante bullshit at me? Do you
really think this is the god damn thirteenth Century? You’re a
nothing, you understand that? All you got in common was with him you were
both losers. When you're on the job I'm the only one you should care about because I pay your salary. Have you got that buster?”
Then, as suddenly as the
storm came on, it was gone. Having had his say Ed was once again
smiling, as well he should. Sooner or later Ed antagonized everyone
into leaving, but those who would grade him poorly in social
relations would not be accurate. Truth is he wanted to drive people
away from him. It made him feel less uncomfortable when he stole
their ideas and presented them as his own.
He played us well. He
played us like we were fine violins: like we were waitresses at an
upscale restaurant just waiting for Mr Right to find a part for her
in his latest epic. Or like sophomore’s getting banged by the
senior football player under the stands on a Saturday night.
To my knowledge only one
person ever got the better of Ed and, believe it or not that was a
woman!
Ed was a real clothes
hound. I think he just like the idea of going someplace and having
people measure his arm length, and chest size and the distance from
his ankles to his crotch. He didn’t go in much for changing styles
– he preferred the elegant look, which translates as “the look of
one who has money.” Like a gambler who’s primary motive is being
able to tell people how much he’s lost at the tables, Ed seemed to
get an almost sexual thrill out of telling people how much his
clothes cost.
You could see he got the
biggest kick out of telling people he’d spent a thousand on a suit
right after he had explained to them that he couldn’t possibly
increase their salaries because “times are tough,” and “geez,
the electric bill around here are killing me.”
Another habit of his was,
you know he’d wear this cologne, which may have been expensive and
everything but when he’d lean over you when you were at your desk
the smell would be so overpowering you could hardly breathe. We
talked among ourselves constantly about the day that one of us would
get up the nerve to ask him to either cool it with the smelly water,
or open a window, but we knew that day would never happen. Ed didn’t
take well to criticism or suggestions. As the saying goes, he didn’t
get ulcers, he gave them.
So anyway one time this
English girl comes along looking for a job. Ed always had a little
insecurity on account of back in the day his English was so urban
accented it could at times be indistinguishable. To tell the truth we
did not see what was coming, although maybe we could have, if we had
known better.
The girl, Florence was
her name, had been on the job about a week and one time, after lunch
she’s talking on her cell phone to someone and Ed walks in the
office. We could see already he’s getting pissed because he’s
been nicety nice to Florence and she’s blowing him off. So what
does he do but a typical Ed move. He walks up behind her and shouts
“Hey, Hey, wait a
minute! We’ll have none of this on company time!” and with that
he grabs the phone out of the girls hand and, of course, he doesn’t
know how to turn it off or anything, so he fiddles around with it and
you can hear the voice on the other end going “Hello, Hello, are
you okay? Are You okay?”
Florence just sits there
and looks at him. Being English she probably was not well aware of
what Italians call “the Evil Eye” but being a woman and all, she
had a basic natural inclination to that sort of thing.
Ed slams the phone down on
her desk and crosses his arms, sort of like Mussolini, as he’s
waiting for the girl to apologize, or break out into tears or
demonstrate some other sort of submissive female behavior. Nothing
happens. At this I was not overly surprised. Flo was not like your
average female. I had sensed that early on. We never went out and
it’s a shame but she didn’t give a damn what people thought.
There we were. A moment
frozen in time. Ed ready to go into stage two of his pre-prepared
temper tantrum. He was probably hoping she’d get all apologetic
and he’s go “There there, little darlin’, I didn’t mean to
hurt you. It just happened.” Ever notice that whenever men beat up
on women a few minutes later they decide they didn’t really want to
hit the woman in the face in the first place, but “golly, she was
asking for it.”
I mean it was hardly a
spousal abuse situation. To some extent, maybe Ed was justified in
grabbing the phone out of the girls hand. It wasn’t violent, it was
just rude. Florence’s eyes got real norrow, like a gunfighters. She
turned and took one look around the office, then to Ed she said,
“You poor boy. You poor
poor boy.”
And she walked out.
Apparently it was not at
all what Ed was expecting and he stood there stunned for a moment.
Then he called out to no one in particular.
“Okay, Shows over.
Everybody back to work”
He turned to one of
his lackeys and said
“Bitch couldn’t
do the job anyway”
It would be nice to tell
you that Ed received his further comeuppance, but no such luck. He
died in the saddle, which anyone could see had to happen. Ed needed
the job more then anyone in his employ. He needed to be able to shout
down and humiliate others. It validated him. He needed to know he
knew better then all them smarty pants college types did. He died
believing that so I suppose you could say his life was a success. He
stayed married to his second wife for nearly thirty years.
The business is still
around. In fact, like a lot of these businesses still run by the
founder, the day he died thee stock went up ten percent. Maybe
you’ve heard of them. Spencer advertising? His real name was Edvard
Stepahnovitch, but, you know Americans. They love those AngloSaxon
names. They started out with the TY Cobb wonder candy account for a
few years and then hit it big in General Motors Radiators. I don’t
think anyone in the family is still involved in the firm. They
weren’t close.
One more thing. Ed also had a
brother, a big fella who moved to Italy and changed his name to Bud
Spencer. He got a place on the Italian Olympic swim team and then in
the seventies starred in a bunch of action/adventure movies. From
what I understand though the two brothers didn’t get along.
- Another true story from the Archives of the Tamlinmediaco
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