Lions and tigers and bosses, oh my!

“I hate my boss.”

The age-old sentiment that every girl feels at least once in her lifetime, if not once every business day. Even if you love your boss, even if your boss is your best friend, your boss lets you do whatever you want, values you, respects you, even if you are your own boss – at least once, you will still hate your boss.

But the way Eperly said it, her hands pulling her hair back on her scalp, her eyes squeezed shut as if trying to force some atrocious image out of her mind - the hate was palpable.

“What’s he done this time?” Jen asked, twirling her pasta on her fork.

Jen rarely orders pasta. She has a carb aversion lingering from her late years at high school. I always feel my heart skip with a little happy flutter when I see her facing that fear. To see her healing.

“Well really, he hates me,” Eperly laments, drama queen status in full effect. “I don’t know why, I really don’t.”

“Maybe he’s threatened by you.” Jen suggests, amicably.

“He’s in charge of me. He literally holds my life in the palm of his hand.” Eperly taps her palm with her index finger, just in case we didn’t know what she was referencing. “What’s the threat? That I’m going to get his coffee order wrong?”

“You’re not an intern.” I say, smirking.

Eperly sighs, exasperated. “He still makes me get his coffee.”

Eperly’s boss, Ryan, is 35, can bench 100kgs, and is one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever seen.

Jen and I exchange glances. We have a theory that the reason Eperly complains about him so much may be more to do with the fact that her company policy prohibits her from jumping his bones. And we know for a fact, that he feels the same way. Sometimes the worst, and best, form of tension is purely sexual.

“That’s just so he has an excuse to brush his fingers against yours while you hand him the cup.” I say.

Jen snorts.

Eperly scowls.

“Stop saying that.”

“He never tells you to just put the coffee on his desk, though does he?” I insist.

“He’s not in love with me! He literally calls me into his office over every little thing so he can patronize me.”

“If by patronize, you mean mentally sweep everything off his desk and throw you on it.” I giggle as Jen suppresses a squeal.

Eperly glares at me but chooses to continue with her sentiment.

“I hate being micromanaged.”

“Stop being pretty then.” Jen said, “If you were ugly, he wouldn’t want to spend so much time looking at you.”

“Jen, that’s a fucked thing to say.” Eperly scolded, ever the feminist.

Jen loves winding her up in this area, like a tone-deaf father does to his fifteen-year-old daughter learning her rights. Jen has always worked in male dominated industries, so you can hardly blame her for a few learned behaviours.

“At least you don’t have to deal with Diana. She’s useless. And she owes me about ten grand in overtime.”

My boss, Diana, or as we dutifully call her, BAC (cleverly standing for ball and chain), deems it necessary to make me stay back for approximately twenty minutes every night, and work through lunch at least once a week. Considering I’m coming up to four years working for her, I’ll let you do the math.

The problem with Diana, is truly no one in the office can quite pinpoint any skills that she may have that make her eligible for the position as the person in charge.

She’s well meaning, but truly incompetent. She may have been the real-life prototype for Michael Scott.

“At least she likes you.” Eperly grumbles.

Diana does like me. The problem is she may like me too much, which I think is starting to blur the lines between professional and…well, blatantly unprofessional.

“We can swap if you want. She actually asked to meet you guys. I must talk about you a lot.”

“Pass.” Jen says decidedly into her glass before washing down a strand of spaghetti.

“No, really.” I say, watching Eperly for the reaction I know is coming. “Eperly, you can console my boss through her weird divorce, and I’ll have sex with your boss on his desk.”

Eperly doesn’t say anything for a second, before dipping her fingertips into her water glass and flicking it at me.

The way I see it, just like death and taxes, unfortunately dumb, horrible bosses are a part of life. No matter how undeserving you may be.

But it helps to know that everyone has one, and you’re all in this together.