#24: Dear S.B.

Dear S.B.

I’m astounded every time my mind wanders back to you, and the bullshit that you put me through the short time  that I worked for you. Hell, I can’t even look at a Red Cross sign, or ad, without feeling a deep bitterness that really should solely be relegated to you; because I have never met a more self-serving, conniving, bullshitting, con-artist bully before I met you.

My job was three simple things: Volunteer Recruitment, Grant Writing, and Disaster Relief.

Where in that list does being your personal assistant come into play? Or janitor…or scape goat? My job in AmeriCorps was to indirectly assess, and address, issues of poverty within the community in which I worked…and yet I was running down the street to pick up pizzas for a board meeting? I was supposed to be sent out, in case of disasters, to assist and yet I was told I wouldn’t do that until 6-8 months into my service….when half of the Eastern states were underwater…

How about how I had to get a newsletter out to the people who subscribed to our chapter…and it kept getting pushed back because you kept telling me to stop what I was doing and take care of what you just handed to me…because wiping down a dry erase board was more important than the impending deadline for the newsletter.

You told me flat to my face that I needed to prioritize better, and when I did you started in on me for not getting the smaller stuff done, without ever bothering to ask if the so-called smaller stuff took longer than anticipated. When I started utilizing the volunteers that Ithat’s right…I…me…your new punching bag….the person who got volunteers into your doors, into taking care of the smaller things while I focused on the bigger projects, you pitched a fit about how everything needed to be run by you first. So I did. I told you everything that I was doing and why it was being done…

Then you told me you didn’t need to know everything….that I needed to take projects and run with them…

And then you spent 5 minutes yelling at me again for not keeping you informed…

How about when I was learning how to process people wanting to take courses, and what courses meant what, and where I needed to send people who needed extra assistance, and you told me that I didn’t need to know that information…remember what happened next? 2 days later, you came to me asking me about that same information I was trying to learn more about, and when I told you I wasn’t sure, you told me it was part of my job to know…

Shall I keep going? I think I shall…Remember when you stood in front of the entire office…T, Amz, volunteers, Blood Services, and a customer…and railed into my for 10 minutes…and I know it’s 10 minutes because the secretary timed you, about how you needed to be kept in the loop and how dare I go over your head to someone else…

Yea, I had no clue what the hell you were talking about. I hadn’t sent out any emails, or contacted anyone about anything. Actually, the situation you were talking about I learned about maybe 5 minutes before you started in on me, and I didn’t even get the entire story. Just that something happened, and the information was sent off to some woman who did know what to do and was actually in charge of all those happenings…

I actually had to pull you into my office so we didn’t have an audience of people watching you as you ranted, and physically prove to you that I had nothing to do with whatever it was you were upset about.

You didn’t even apologize after realizing your mistake. All you said was “Well make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Right…cuz I had that power over your senior staff.

And all through this I just watched you, because it amazed me that the Chapter hadn’t imploded before I arrived. You were a fucking con-artist, talking a big game when really you just wanted attention. Validation… that you were worth something in a world you continually claimed you cared about, but had no problem dissing when you were in a bad mood. Hell, even your own daughter called you out on it when you weren’t around.

And all I wanted was to make a difference in the community. You may tout me as a failure, but in a month and a half I had managed to pull in 40 volunteers, and have over 60 signed up to receive more information about the Red Cross, make 11 event appearances, create a newsletter and send it to the printers, re-do 50 executive folders, re-manipulate 2 informational flyers (because you wanted them personalized and I didn’t have a copy I could make graphic changes to), sent out 10-15 press releases, help organize 2 major disaster kits, roll up 30 blankets, took 2 disaster courses, got 2 teams to sign up for your golf tournament, and all the while I was busy running your bullshit errands that any of the weekly volunteers who had nothing to do could have done.

But I’m a failure because I missed a grant deadline…the same one that I told you that I thought the date you gave me was wrong, but you said no it was in the letter you gave me…

I’m a failure because I stayed until 6pm, or 7, sometimes 8…to answer every email, follow up every phone call, and work on the projects you kept making changes to even though you had already approved the initial set-up. I’m a failure because I wasn’t afraid to tell you I was overwhelmed and needed to focus on the bigger projects, not the small ones. I’m a failure because I wasn’t this magical being that knew how to do everything without ever being told what to do.

Month and a half…in which I had started to make connections to the community, introduce myself, and just get my feet wet. Yea, I’ll admit that I made many, many…many mistakes along the way; mostly because my actual training was 2 tours of the building…because you couldn’t be bothered to point me in the right direction when I asked a simple question. Your response, “Just get up and look for it.”

Except I did. I would. I spent hours scouring through online folders, and cabinets…which you then told me that instead of wasting hours searching, just to come to you or someone else to help me. And then you asked me what training I liked, and I know I stood there and looked at you like you were stupid. What training does someone who has never worked for a non-profit organization need? What about a person who never wrote a grant before? What would they need? Where would they go to get it? What training does a person need if they have never thrown together a major fundraiser before? How about a person who has never driven manual car before? What training could they need?

Hell, I had to have 2 other people help me figure out the booth tent, which is not possible to put up by oneself.

And all I would hear about was how the girl before me was amazing and did everything by herself. So guess what I did? I went to her and asked her how the hell she did it.

She called you a liar, by the way, along with a few other expletives about how you were talking out of your ass, how you knew nothing about what went into my position, and made her feel like the biggest piece of shit on a regular basis. How you always took credit for others work, or gave credit to others who didn’t do anything. How you would lie to people’s faces, and talk behind their back (something that I am not claiming innocence on because the minute you were gone I was screaming, in multiple languages, about how I wish you would find the only cliff in Iowa and fall off of it).

But my biggest issue with you was how you just made me feel on a daily basis. I’m from New York. You would have been eaten alive for some of the bullshit you tried putting me through. Hell, New Yorkers would even tell you to slow the hell down because all your running, and talking, and bullshit, wasn’t getting you anywhere except on people’s nerves.  But I had never met someone who could make me feel like they were a gift to my life…that my mother was lesser than because I was lacking. That your way of life was the way life should be led.

I hated you after the first day.

But I was willing to fight through all of the bullshit to achieve my goal. Honestly, the drama wasn’t necessary, but you created it and never did you think I would call you out on it. But I did, and now you won’t ever get another person to work for you again and I know that you blame me but all you can do is blame yourself. Blame yourself for working for a Non-profit organization created to serve the people, and you are only involved because it makes you look good. You don’t care about people, you look down upon them, but will jump in and take credit for successes you do not deserve. You are a bully, and I feel sorry for you, and this will be the last bit of breath I ever waste on you. I tried, and I failed, but I came out the better person because I know that you understand why I failed. I failed because of you. I failed because I chose to leave, instead of subjecting myself to your bullying anymore. I am damn proud I took you down with me though, because I know I’ve saved other people from getting treated the way you treated K and me.

But now, even though I see the building every day, I can hold my head up proudly…because I survived. I survived….which means I am far from the failure you want to make me…oh and stop saying how you went out of your way to help me. I threatened to go back to NY when you failed to help me find a place to live, and you kicked me out of your house because you had family coming over, even though it meant I would end up sleeping in my car. You are a despicable, vile woman, and I proud to have stood up to you. I am proud to have become more successful in-spite of you. But mostly, I am proud that I never let you win.

And you won’t ever win with me…should have known better than to have hired a New Yorker. We are fighters. We are strong. You can’t handle us, and you sure as hell didn’t deserve what I could have brought to the organization. It’s just sad that your pettiness hurts so many people. One day you will get your comeuppance and I have you think of me, because for every insult you gave me, I added fuel to my fire, and I will come out the better person…whereas you will just always be mean. Good luck.


One thought on “#24: Dear S.B.

  1. I hope you sent this letter to her, and to those that she has to answer to in the chain of command. I’m not sure this Idahoan would take that kind of crap at all…nah, I know I wouldn’t and I’d find a polite way of telling her…okay, maybe not so polite.

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