Working for Kevin sucked. His branch office was one of the insurance company's most productive, but he got those results by being a hard-ass to the people who worked under him. His reputation as a tyrant was well known, so I was not pleased when I learned that I was being transferred to his unit.
It's not that Kevin intimidated me—he didn't. I knew I was good at my job, and I also knew I wouldn't be working for him very long. I was taking night classes and would be getting my MBA in less than a year, and that degree would launch my career right out of his department. Plus, I wasn't the kind of guy who got intimidated easily anyway. Standing six-foot-three, I was 27 years old at the time, with a strong build and a confident way about me, and I wasn't about to cower at the idea of working for someone like Kevin. He was about ten years my senior and definitely an alpha male—very driven and aggressive, a former Marine with a muscular, six-foot frame—but I didn't fear him.
The first week in Kevin's unit was an adjustment. I watched as he relentlessly pushed his people. The poor guy who sat next to me, a meek fellow named John, was always getting his work handed back to him with a long list of harsh comments. Kevin was often verbal in his criticism of John and the others, saying things out loud that could have been relayed privately with less embarrassment. There was one woman, Stacy, who often went to the ladies' room in tears after being lectured and humiliated by Kevin. He was just a classic asshole boss.
Surprisingly, when I joined Kevin's unit it wasn't so bad for me, since for some reason he rarely directed any mistreatment toward me. It was almost as if he kind of liked me. He would sometimes hand my work back with lightly critical comments, but nothing too outrageous. The emotional outbursts and hostility were usually aimed at the other employees. This was still no picnic for me, of course, since his toxic personality created a miserable work environment for everyone.
Then one day, after about a month in Kevin's unit, something happened that would become a milestone in my life, and his as well. It unfolded quickly, and as I look back on it I sometimes wonder if it was a dream. But it wasn't.
It had been a difficult day, with Kevin acting even more truculent than usual. I had recently learned that his wife was divorcing him, so that probably had something to do with it. I didn't know his wife, but I sympathized with her nonetheless, since I couldn't imagine living with such a prick. Anyway, that day Kevin had already unleashed on everyone else in the unit at least once, but as usual I had escaped it. That changed, however, at about four o'clock. To my surprise, I heard Kevin yell out my name, summoning me to his office, and not in a friendly or professional tone.
I complied, of course, and as I approached him he proceeded to rant about how my work on a particular file was inadequate. He didn't even look at me, keeping his eyes on the folder in front of him instead, but he was loud and obnoxious as he berated me and my work. There was no doubt that everyone in the area could hear him. He went on and on, saying I had been grossly neglectful, even insinuating that I was incompetent. He had never directed this sort of outburst toward me, and I was shocked. I was finally learning what it was like to be mistreated and humiliated by Kevin—and I did not like it.
But I stayed calm. At first I respectfully defended my work, knowing it was solid, but I decided not to be too zealous in my own defense. I felt that by seeming overly concerned I might give him some sense of satisfaction, so instead I mainly just let him have his tantrum. I was steaming inside—angry beyond description—but I held it together.
Returning to my desk with as much pride as I could muster, I could see the others avoiding eye contact with me, having been on the receiving end of such mistreatment themselves many times and knowing how awful it is. I tried to imagine what it must be like to put up with such unnecessary antagonism for years, as John, Stacy, and the others in the unit had. My ego would survive this—especially since I had an exit strategy with my MBA—but my blood boiled as I thought about what the others had to endure.
The work day would end in only a few minutes, and I spent that time replaying what had happened in my head, which only inflamed my inner rage all the more. At closing time, as usual, everyone in the office except Kevin got up and left. As the branch manager he often stayed late, and it wasn't very unusual for me to stick around after hours either, since my desk was a good place to do a little studying before my night classes.
That night, however, I wasn't staying late to prepare for class—I had other motives.
When I was sure that everyone else had left, I made my move toward Kevin's office. Still enraged, I approached him as he sat at his desk working. He seemed surprised to see me, but not shocked. When he saw the look on my face, however, he realized a confrontation was coming. He opened his mouth to say something, but I stepped toward him right away and took control.
"Don't you ever talk to me like that again!" I said to him sternly, staring him down. I was surprised to hear the words coming out of my own mouth, but unable to exercise restraint. He could see how serious I was. His mouth dropped at my aggressive tone, and to my delight I saw a slight look of fear in his eyes. There were a few seconds of silence as we both assessed the situation. In my head I replayed how he conducted himself every day, how he seemed to enjoy intimidating others, how he acted like such a big man, how he was such a goddamn bully. At the same time I realized that, unlike others, I was able to see through his charade. He could be physically imposing and intimidating to some, but I looked down on him and wasn't at all afraid. As I stood over him sitting there, I didn't see the powerful boss man that everyone else saw—I saw a pussy who needed to be taught a lesson.
I took one more step toward him, so that I was now standing within reach. I'm a big guy and I was in excellent shape at the time, carrying a powerful, athletic frame—and I was bullshit mad. Still sitting in his chair, he looked up at me with what looked like doe eyes. Meekly, he muttered only one word: "Sorry."
