The Platonic Ideal of "Boss"

(Just got back from three much-needed and very relaxing days at the shore, and my brain is not quite in "wake" mode. I really hope this post, which wrote itself in my head the whole time I was on the beach, is as coherent as it needs to be for the topic.)

My first job in the publishing industry was not in book publishing but rather in journalism. I moved to Connecticut and took an entry-level job as an office assistant at a small legal newspaper. Since I was completely naïve at the time in all matters corporate America, when I took the job offer (basically because the really cool windsurfing company where I really wanted to work was taking its own sweet time in getting back to me, and I needed a job yesterday), I had absolutely no idea that I'd be working for anything other than this small, seemingly friendly little paper, based in this suburban Connecticut town. No one had bothered to inform me otherwise when I’d come for my interview. After all, I was just an office assistant (glorified receptionist, really). However, I was soon to be enlightened. On my first day at the job, first thing in the morning, someone called asking to speak to Steve Brill. I put the person on hold and asked the woman who was the editor at the time,

“Who’s Steve Brill?”

The editor’s worried response that all calls for Steve Brill should immediately be forwarded to the New York office was the first hint I got that I was somewhere a bit bigger than this 30-employee office. Soon thereafter, I learned that Brill was The Bigwig. He owned us. It was a terrifically fun place to work. Except when Steve Brill arrived, which he did every-so-often. Most of the people who worked there were either disillusioned lawyers or people like me testing out the notion of a publishing or journalism career. Only three of us were over the age of 40, and no one was over the age of 50. We were young; we were idealistic; we worked hard; and we had a great time. When Brill arrived, however, the feelings of disdain and contempt would have knocked anyone else flat on his back. I've always thought it was too bad. The man had great ideas. He later went on to found Court TV. But he’s part of the reason I left publishing and decided maybe I’d be better-suited for library work where people seemed to care about people.

Long after I’d left, GQ magazine did an article about Brill. It began something like this, “So, you think your boss is bad?” Here you go: the only thing I’ve ever had published in the print media was a letter to the editor in response to that article. Unfortunately, the editor cut it to pieces. Thus, my letter railing at the media for giving the likes of Steve Brill the time of day sounded like nothing more than a rant from a disgruntled former employee. I stand my ground, though. Why do jerks like Steve Brill and Donald Trump get all the attention in society? Why don’t we see articles in national magazines about the good bosses out there?

I was drawn to think about all this a while back when Bloglily wrote about her job she so loves. She made special note of her perfect boss, and I remember thinking, “could it be there’s more than one perfect boss in the world?” That’s because, for the past three years, I’ve been working for a perfect boss. I am, once again, working at a terrifically fun place, a place where people have a real passion for what they do, where we are all idealistic, where we work hard and have a great time. Her leadership has, of course, contributed to this environment, and it has been invaluable (although I can hear her “aw-shucks-it’s-not-me-it’s-you-guys” response to that echoing in my ear as I type).

Everyone should be fortunate enough to have a boss like this at least once in his or her lifetime, the sort who ought to be featured in the media, the sort who trusts her employees and would never, ever stoop to bullying and demeaning tactics. That’s because she’s wise enough to know that those kinds of tactics don’t engender hard work and loyalty, but it’s also because she’s just too kind. She’s the sort of boss who knows it all but would never let anyone think she knows much of anything. She leaves her employees alone, lets them make their own mistakes, but never lets them fall under her watch, always reaching out both hands to catch them. She doesn’t breathe down anyone’s neck, but if you happen to need her, she will drop everything to help you. Oh yeah, and did I mention, she’s also someone you’d want to know in real life? Someone you’d like to kick back a few beers with and be there when she lights up a room (or a building) with her laugh?

And now, much to my horror, I have to accept the fact that my perfect boss is leaving. Not only is she leaving, but she’s moving all the way across the country. To say I’m not extremely happy for her to have this golden opportunity would be to lie. I am. However, that doesn’t negate the fact that I’m extremely unhappy for those of us left behind. Since this is our last week with her, and we’ve known now for a month that she was leaving, I think I’m beginning to get past the stage at which I want to grab onto her legs and say, “No, don’t go! Don’t leave!” Maybe in another six months or so I’ll be completely through the stage?

Anyway, here’s to L. I was very, very lucky for three years. I wish it had been longer. Meanwhile, based on the tear-filled going-away party I recently attended, I know I speak for all my colleagues when I say she will be missed. Her new company’s gain is our loss. And I hope all those of you reading this post are one day lucky enough to have such a boss.