Remembering Leigh, and realizing that arrogance is a misdemeanor

I started working as a technical writer in January 1994, and my first “in my field” boss, who I’ll call Susan, spoiled me. Susan was kind, nurturing, and insightful, and I grew quite a bit with her. We remain close friends today.

Susan’s worth a post sometime, but tonight I really wanted to talk about my next boss. I’ll call her Leigh. She was one of the most nakedly self-centered and arrogant people I’ve ever met. Her expertise and intelligence were impressive, but the constant self-promotion was a big turnoff. She was very much a “but enough about me–what do you think of me?” sort of person. It didn’t hurt her M.O. that she was a statuesque blonde with piercing eyes and all of the correct curves. She was hot, both physically and mentally, and she knew it–but more importantly, she wanted you to know it.

I let Leigh’s arrogance, coupled with my fondness for Susan, cloud my opinion of her. Leigh was responsible for the user documentation for what was then one of the flagship products of the company, and she never shut up about it. Conversely, I had fallen into her group because of a reorg, and most of what I worked on was nuts-and-bolts stuff like drivers and utilities. I had the impression she didn’t think much of my work, and in my youth, I let that get to me a bit.

The truth is that she was one of the best bosses I’ve ever had. She left me alone. When I needed someone with teeth as an advocate, I would go to her office and explain the situation, and she’d invariably go do what I asked her to. During my stint with her, she gave me one review. She rated my performance excellent, and her comments demonstrated a far greater understanding of what I did than I ever thought she had.

I had a bit of an epiphany that evening about Leigh.

Last I heard, she and her family had moved to the Seattle area. I tried to email her a couple of years ago, but it bounced. I hate that. Had I gotten in touch with her, after we exchanged greetings, I wanted to tell her that it took me a few years to realize that I didn’t sufficiently appreciate her at the time. Also, I wanted to apologize for not being nicer to her. I’m sure she would have blown it off, but I’d have said it, and she’d have remembered it later when she didn’t have an audience.

In a boss, you can do considerably worse than a person who constantly reminds the world how great she is–particularly if that’s her only real flaw.

And thank goodness for the lifelong human capacities to grow and learn.

Thanks to dan.wygant.org for the image.

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