I wrote a long Twitter thread today, about my worst professional job ever. (Thanks to Spooler for unrolling it for me.)
Here it is:
I was just talking to a friend about jobs that beat the caring out of you. They can do it in a number of ways, like setting you up so there’s no way to win.
So, let me tell you about my first full time database job. (A Thread.)
In the beginning
I was VERY excited about the job. I worked nights and weekends, studied my butt off, went to training events. It was a grand time to be a baby DBA.
All was well, but they began nitpicking me to death on little things. Like, giving me talks about arriving on time. Please note that there really wasn’t a compelling reason to have a DBA on site by a certain time at this particular place. And even if that were the case, we HAD a DBA who liked working 7a-4p. And remember, I was working days, evenings, and weekends too. Because I wanted to.
I kind of stopped doing that once they put an actual HALL MONITOR in place, specifically to log when I walked in the door.
The middle part – I’m sure this will turn out well
The other big thing was this: my team needed another DBA. So we started interviewing candidates. Eventually we found a guy that the team could recommend. We did, and he got hired.
Let’s call him Stanley, because I genuinely don’t remember his name.
After a 2-ish weeks, they decided to make Stanley team manager. Not because he was particularly senior in terms of DBA work, but because the team needed a manager (apparently), and he seemed managerial.
Well, okay, we interviewed and vetted a 40-ish year old DBA who’s now the boss. I suspected this at the time, once things started going sour, and I’m SURE of it now: But Stanley did NOT like the fact that 20-something year old me had been the one to interview him. A young, underling woman who was now his employee, had been in a position of power over him. It make for a weird dynamic, on his side of the table. I didn’t care.
But yeah, things got weird. He overrode me on technical decisions, based entirely on feelings. (We call this “technology superstition”.) Other things, too. (Never harassment, it wasn’t that kind of weird.)
Endgame: Le sigh
The absolute and final straw was this: there was a Microsoft-provided, free training event in Dallas coming up in a couple of weeks. I told the team about it, asked Stanley for a half day. He agreed I could go. Yay, training from MS! (Wait for it.)
The day of training, I checked in at work, and prepared to leave around, oh, 9:30 I guess. Stanley comes by. “You can’t go to the training today. We need a DBA on site.”
“Oh? Where are you and [CO WORKER] going to be?”
“We won’t be in the office.”
Y’all see this coming.
Small discussion ensues. It comes down to, no, you simply can’t go, Jen. Okay, FINE then.
The whole company went to lunch at noon. I decide that at least I can catch the noon training session, starting a few minutes late and ending a few minutes early. I go.
I go. I find a seat. I glance to my 1 o’clock.
Stanley and [CO WORKER] are sitting 20 feet away. At the training event I told them about.
I couldn’t go because Stanley wanted to go. And insisted that [CO WORKER] be the one to go with him.
But wait, there’s more!
Endgame: Le sigh, part 2
After 15-20 minutes, Stanley gets up, walks past me out the door, gesturing furiously.
I proceed to get chewed out for not being at the office. (Remember, everyone was at lunch. There was no precedence for needing a DBA in the office during lunch.)
He ends as if he’s talking to a child: “Now, GET BACK THERE RIGHT NOW.”
I am so far beyond fury, I have attained some exotic, sixth state of matter. I turn, drive back to the office, think for a few minutes, email my resignation, and start saying bye to coworkers.
Endgame: Le sigh, part 3 yes this is still happening
NOT DONE! The manager-of-my-manager – let’s call him Dave, okay? – Dave intercepts me partway through my goodbyes, and walks me back to my cube.
“You need to leave the building right now.”
“Okay, let me gather up my things.”
“HR will box those up and you can come get them next week.”
This is not something I have ever even thought of. I can’t take my stuff with me? What? (I still don’t know if this is SOP with some companies, or what. I’ve never in my life quit on a dime like this, ever. Not even at fast food places.)
“Well, okay. When is my exit interview?”
I had SERIOUS things to say to HR about how the team was run, how the department was run, and Things about Life In General, dammit. I was MAD.
I also thought at the time that HR would care. I realize now: they would not. Anyway, back to the story.
Me: “When is my exit interview?”
Dave: “You don’t get an exit interview. You only get one if you resign.”
I am now beyond all imagined states of matter, a puzzled firey space helium-ether cloud of confusion.
Me: “………….only if I resign? I just quit. You have the email. That’s how you knew to come get me.” I believe all of this might be verbatim, folks.
“You didn’t quit. I don’t have a paper saying you did.”
If my eyes could expand spiritually and reach unto the heavens… I swear, there would have been some deeply surprised and puzzled angels. Because REVERBERATING EYEROLL.
I do not speak.
I lean past Dave.
To the trash can.
And pull out a mostly blank sheet of printer paper.
I look to the right. There is a cheap pen on my EX-desk. I grab it, scribble “I quit.”
I sign and date it.
I hand it silently to Dave.
I still wish, to this day, there had been gum on the paper.
Denoument
That’s it. That’s the end. I mean, I walked out with my purse and keys. I went back like 12 days later and got my box of stuff – seriously, you had to keep my framed picture, bags of snacks, and squishy toy…for security?
I did get my exit interview. HR gamely pretended to care.
And that was it. I THINK I might have seen Stanley once ever again, but I don’t actually remember, and I certainly didn’t go speak to him.
I have spoken to other ex co workers since then. They still like me.
But that is the Worst Professional Job I’ve Ever Had in my Life. The people in charge managed beat the caring out of me in record time. It’s kind of a case study in how not to run an IT department.
But, just three more things:
One, it really does make a good story. Karen Carpenter said “the best love songs are written by a broken heart”, and that kind of applies here.
Two, I’m still kind of pissed, nearly two decades later, that I had to miss the training for such a stupid reason.
And three: That moment of pulling the paper out of the trash, writing on it, and handing it silently over? That is still one of my top 10 best moments of my life.
I’d watch it on repeat every year, if I could.
Cheers. -J
(Oh, P.S. That jobs even beat The Startup Where They Ran Out of Money and Had To Let Me Go, and The Consulting Gig That Never Ever Paid Me, as the worst pro job ever.)
