The Architect

My Very Worst Job was working for a New York architect. I was planning to move to NYC with my best friend and needed a well paying job to pay the rent so I was pretty much willing to take anything. When I went in for the interview the office was beautiful and I met with the office manager who seemed really nice. She said the position would be assisting the owner/head partner of the firm, but she did warn me that he could sometimes be difficult and that would be the toughest part of the job. Having worked for difficult people in the past I thought it wouldn’t be a problem. I started a few weeks later and the girl who trained me hinted at the fact that he was impossible to work for, comparing him to Miranda Priestly from The Devil Wears Prada. After working there for a few months I soon realized that even the people who hired him hated him because he was such an asshole. I am pretty sure his wife hated him too considering she lived on the complete opposite side of the country from him.

He was an angry old man and always screamed at people in the office calling them a “f-ing moron” in front of the entire staff. He lived off of cigarettes and cappuccinos (yes he smoked in the office and yes this was only a couple years ago). One time he demanded that I find the phone number of one of the wealthiest men in the world. It didn’t help that he couldn’t really remember his name. He was in a rage when I told him I couldn’t find it, he suggested calling 411 (thanks for the tip but he wasn’t listed). He said, “Fine, I’ll have one of the architects do it!” And of course they weren’t able to find it either. After dealing with his crazy requests, wild mood swings (one day I came back from lunch and the office was vibrating with crazy music and he was rocking out) and his general lack of respect for everyone I decided to put in my notice. I stayed for nine months, the girl before me lasted six and the two before her only lasted three months each.

After I made up a lie about “going back to grad school” I gave him six weeks’ notice and he told me I was unethical. When I started there were 15 employees, by the time I left there were only seven people left, because they either quit or he fired them in one of his rages. After I left I heard from one of my friends that my old boss had recently been on an international business trip and got into a physical fight with the client he was visiting. By the way he was in his 70s. Thank god I got out of there.