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| 1994 Cutlass Supreme |
I had called my Dad to tell him I was interested in getting a new car. He gave me the information necessary to secure the GM discount. Chappy and I went to buy the vehicle and after I negotiated the price, Chappy called his Dad to get the information to secure the discount. I told him I had the information necessary that I had gotten from my dad. "My dad gets a better discount."
Were we really going to get in a pissing match over whose dad got a bigger discount? Chappy just sat there the whole time I was buying this car, not saying a word and then he is going to step up and throw this on the table. What is it about me and men when it comes to buying cars?
In late 1995, I was taking Precious for our nightly walk. She was staying at our house on a regular basis since Chappy had spoken to the neighbors about my safety and walking their dog. Jean, Precious's owner, joined me that evening and as we rounded the corner to return to our homes, she invited me to a neighborhood party she had been invited to.
I wasn't much into these "home" parties, but what did I have to lose? It was a Pampered Chef party. I had never heard of them before, but I loved to be Pampered and I loved kitchen stuff, so off we went.
I don't know what came over me. I ended up signing up to have a party. I didn't know enough people to have a party! The Director thought I'd make a great Pampered Chef consultant and encouraged me to sign up. I explained to her that I didn't know anyone in the area to draw upon to have parties. She told me to think about it and we set a date for my party.
The day arrived and I had everything just perfect for my first party. I invited people from the office and a few friends I had met through other sources. Carol, the Pampered Chef director arrived early to work on signing me up. You had to have so many parties and so many sales in the first couple of weeks. There was no way I would be able to achieve this requirement.
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| Who is Getting Pampered? |
Damn the luck, four people signed up for a future party, most were my staff. I signed on the dotted line and became a Pampered Chef consultant. What else did I have to do? Chappy was never home. This would give me an opportunity to meet more people, make a little money and who knew where it would go.
I really enjoyed it. I would have these parties and walk away so pumped up and excited. Why couldn't I feel this way in my day job? But I didn't have the time or the hostess resources to keep it going and my day job was kicking my butt.
I started taking enrichment classes, adult enrichment, in business and management. I was determined to learn as much as I could in managing people, short of returning to college. The American Management Association held classes at the University of Indianapolis at night. I attended Tuesdays and Thursdays. I enjoyed the classes and one instructor in particular. He was an excellent teacher and he kept me interested in pursuing my certification.
I finished the first part of the course work within a year. It was 108 hours of training comprised of several subjects revolving around management of people. For another 80 hours, I achieved the Masters in Management Certification. I continued with more night schooling until I took every course available addressing business and management.
My boss, Dave, the Vice President of Claims, was a bit egotistical and firmly believed a woman's place was not in management. But he had hired me. He taught me a lot about management. Everything he did, I didn't follow. He was not a great leader and he was old school. He refused to learn the computer when email was introduced. He refused to make changes when the Board demanded changes be made to become more competitive and efficient. He had his secretary take dictation via short hand. He didn't want to use a Dictaphone. He even informed her to answer her phone by announcing his name and title. Who answers the phone and spouts off their title? I chuckled every time I heard his secretary answer the phone, "Hello, David Reeze, Vice President of Claims office, this is Bev. How may I help you?" I'd have hung up as the introduction was too long. I would probably have forgotten why I called.
Dave was a tough man to work for, I could see why Mollie Ann had so many problems with him. But like all men that are power hungry in the office, he was a man ruled by his wife at home. His wife was a kind soul but she wore the pants in that family.
He had bought a house in Noblesville and bragged to everyone that it cost $190,000. Everyone was invited out to see it after they moved in. It was very nice, out in the country, lots of acreage, but that day, I realized if his wife could manage him, I could too.
Prior to the party, he had called me into his office to discuss my concerns over my immediate supervisor, Larry. Larry did nothing. He sat in his corner office and with his binoculars he would watch people coming and going in the parking lot and call Angie, his former girlfriend and a member of my staff to gossip. She was not able to get her work done as she was spending too much time whispering with him.
I had hired another woman, her name was Cheryl and we became close friends. After a week on the job, she asked me, "What exactly does he do?"
"Good question, when you figure that out, let me know." He did nothing and he was kind of creepy, the way he watched everyone.
This department was light years behind in technology and claim administration. I suggested a lot of changes but it fell on deaf ears. "No need to fix some thing that isn't broke, we've been doing it that way for years." I grew frustrated with the wall I kept hitting my head against.
One day, Dave called Larry and I in the office. He'd been told changes needed to be made and it needed to start with Larry. Word had spread that he was not productive, so they set him up to fail. He was going to manage the casualty department. He was the manager of the workers compensation unit and I was the supervisor. Dave gave me a copy of my new job description. The title was Workers Compensation Claims Manager. Larry was given one for the Casualty unit manager.
After our meeting, he excused Larry and closed the door. "Little girl, you've got an opportunity here to shine. You can thank me for that."
Little girl? Was Killer addressing me? I was thirty five years old, I don't think I was a little girl, but I let it slide. He had violated more laws on employment practices and hiring than I could list. He went on to inform me that I needed to prove myself worthy of the title of claims manager. Hadn't I been doing that?
He sat there and basically dressed me down. A weak woman would have shed her skin and crawled under the door, as he made you feel like you didn't deserve to see the light of day. He knew I could do the job, but I'd have to prove it.
"I'm going to give you one year. You do this job for one year as outlined there on the paper and if you succeed, I'll promote you to manager. There's a lot of money to be made if you have the balls to do it."
He had no idea how big my balls were. I'd been managing the department, that's how we got where we were, I'd figured out Larry was useless and so did others.
"A year? What happens after a year?"
"If you prove to me you are worthy, I'll give you the title and the raise."
"No. I won't do it. If you want me to manage that department, I've proven myself. I want the title and the raise, now."
"That is not how we do things here."
Oh, now I was talking to Min. We do things here differently compared to where?
"I don't understand. If you expect me to do this job, I deserve the title and the pay, now. If I can't do the job, fire me." I was sweating bullets. What if he fired me? But I was not going to let him see me sweat.
"No. We do it my way. Everyone has to prove to me they are worthy of a promotion, you are no different. You either want it or you don't. What is it going to be?"
"I won't do it for a year. I'll do it for a month. If you don't think I am worthy, you wouldn't have called me in here. If Larry is a manager of the Casualty department and you want me to run the work comp department, I need the same pay and title."
"You drive a tough bargain. Nine months. But you are wrong, Larry's job description is different so you two aren't even on the same level. He has more responsibility."
"No. Two months"
"You have an opportunity here that I could offer to others with a college degree. Six months."
"You hired me without a degree. I've taken a lot of classes in management. Three months. If you are not happy in three months, fire me."
"Three months. You have a deal."
"I want the title now. I want the money at the end of three months."
"No, that is not how we do things here. You do the work, you show you are worthy and you'll get the title and the pay. I'm done negotiating with you."
He got up, opened the door and told me to get back to work. I'm surprised he didn't suffer burns to his skin from the steam that was coming out of my ears when I walked past him. I was steaming mad!
Some thing was not right. I stayed after work, after everyone left and I started snooping. I knew where Dave kept his paperwork, I saw him put it away on his credenza. I went into his office. Larry's job description, as well as mine, was filed away. The job descriptions were identical, the only difference was the title, one was Workers Compensation, one was Casualty. He had lied to me.
I dug deeper. Larry made $20,000 more than I did. But I was the supervisor, he was the manager. If I was going to replace him, I should be entitled to a significant pay increase. I made copies and I started plotting. Nicest person in the world, until you screw with me, than I'll nail your coffin shut. Dave had just screwed me and walked away smiling.
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