The 13 Worst Fucking Bosses in the Whole Fucking World

A couple weeks ago, I asked you to tell us about the worst fucking boss you’ve ever had and almost every single response could easily be included in the MOST TERRIBLE GARBAGE PEOPLE ALIVE. This is not good, bosses of the world. Not good at all.

With hundreds of responses and emails, I tried to pick a nice cross section of heinous, but I couldn’t possibly include all of them because the Internet might explode with our collective vitriol. Because, to level with you, this shit makes the spooky stories look like child’s play.

First, thanks to Isha for helping me wade through them all because it was just too much anger for me to take in without crying and screaming for the rest of my days.

Now, on with the horror show!

Chicken Sweat and Implants, from Margie McDoogle

My GM at a local BBQ joint. Ho boy. The owner was bad enough, as it was pretty obvious that this place was a tax write off and he had a million other, more lucrative, real estate ventures.

This GM was in the middle of divorce proceedings when I got the job and his general attitude got increasingly worse the longer he was single.

There are sooo many stories, but a few of the bleaker:

A raging alcoholic, he would sit at the bar for hours harassing female employees, making comments about their bodies, about their boyfriends, just, real grade-A sexist material. Once I was behind the bar kitchen, which had an open window into the dining area, and he had me trapped slurring god knows whatever sexually inappropriate comments he could make, and a group of boys sitting at a booth called me over and asked if they needed to call the cops. I was just like, “NOPE. That’s my boss”.

He would break down raw chicken barehanded, with a greasy rag underneath the cutting board. Once someone needed to speak with him in the front of house and he used the chicken gut towel to wipe the sweat off his face.

Really, homeboy never wore gloves for anything, and when I was trying to free up room for more ice in the wait station he came over and used his entire bare forearms to shove the ice back.

His demeanor really was the worst though. He got flustered really easily and would just scream. Like, people dining in the front of the restaurant can hear him yelling in the kitchen. If he was mad at you he would chase you down at your tables and berate you in front of them (which actually helped your tip, but that’s beyond the point.) He really only excelled at smoking the meat and everything else a GM was responsible for just failed him, miserably.

The straw that broke the camels back, however, was one night when he was smashed, reading at the bar. I had been trying to become a bartender and he was actually really supportive of it (he liked me, which had advantages and disadvantages). He stood up from the bar, preparing to leave, and we talked briefly about me being promoted. The conversation ended and in some horrible basketball-coach-esque act of motivation(? Idk) HE SPANKED ME WITH THE BOOK HE WAS CARRYING.

I quit that weekend.

ETA. I forgot about the time he paid for a servers boob job

Jesus Fuck, from thekosty

OMG I HAVE ONE!

I worked at Applebee’s in high school for the kind of douchebag who cared so much about his job he would make the fifteen year old hostess unzip her knee-high boots to verify that her socks were in keeping with the dress code. EVEN THOUGH THEY WERE UNDER BOOTS! AND NO ONE COULD SEE THEM! And if they weren’t solid black you got written up. ANYWAY, one day I was working a lunch shift with a single mother who was four months pregnant with her second child. Halfway through lunch she complained she wasn’t feeling well, and shortly thereafter retired to the bathroom. When she emerged, she tottered over to the manager and told him that she was miscarrying and had to go to the doctor. To which he told her that it was ‘too late anyway’ and made her finish serving the lunch rush with (TRIGGER ALERT and I shit you not) chunks of miscarried fetus dripping down her thighs like a gruesome melting ice cream cone. She was too afraid of losing her job to disobey him, and I was seventeen and waaaay out of my depth.

She finished her shift, rolled her cutlery and left (presumably to go to the motherfucking DOCTOR), and came back to work as usual the next day. And that fuckhead never even apologized.

No Internet For You, from Anonymous

This is the story about the time I worked for a horrible boss out of desperation. I sent my resume in to a blind ad in an industry magazine. I got a call a few weeks later to set up an interview. I hadn’t heard of the company, so I googled it – SHIT. Bad sign #1 – It had been covered by national newspapers for some pretty awful reasons (which I won’t go into because it would make it very clear to people in my industry who I’m talking about). I went for the interview nonetheless, because I REALLY needed the job. Two weeks later, I was away from my cell phone for about 2 hours working at my then-job, and when I returned I had 2 voicemails from the company, offering me the job and then following up to tell me if I didn’t call them back within a half hour, they’d offer it to someone else. Ooof. Bad sign #2. But, again – I needed a full-time job, badly. So I took it.

Things were okay at first. I had two bosses, and I mostly interacted with one of them. But things were weird. On my first day, I got a memo about making sure the door was locked, because if the door wasn’t locked, it would be my fault if I was raped. Erm, ooookayyyy. It was also kinda bizarre that I wasn’t allowed to go on the internet on my computer at all; the computers had been set up so that we could only access our email via Outlook. This was strange, because part of my job was doing research online. To do the research, I had to go to special computer station. I was told by a fellow employee that it’s because one of our bosses had been caught accessing her Fetlife account at the office, and the other boss had decided no one could use the internet anymore. The Fetlife boss ended up leaving shortly after I was hired, for a whole host of reasons.

So then there was one boss. She had nude photos of herself hanging in her office, so I had to avoid looking at full frontals of her when we spoke. She was incredibly derisive and would curse me out and call me a “retard” or “fucking retarded” nearly daily. It wasn’t just me that was the subject of her wrath; a delivery person once said to me, “Girl, your boss is… funny.” It was incredibly stressful to turn in any work, because I knew I would be insulted.

I was a nervous wreck, and I even ended up going to the hospital saying I thought I had apendicitis when I knew I didn’t, because I just wanted a valid excuse to not show up to work but not be fired. Because again, I was desperate for a job. Nobody else in my class had jobs. When I found out that I had high blood pressure in my mid-20’s as a result of the stress, I knew I had to quit. I had an interview at another company outside of my industry, and I just decided to quit in the hopes that I got this job. It paid more and had an HR department I could complain to if somebody called me a fucking retard.

Years later, I met with a headhunter who saw that company on my resume and spent almost our entire meeting relating nearly identical stories to me because she had also worked there.

The Cooking Lady, from MrsAmy

My worst boss was the Cooking Lady. I was fresh out of culinary school, and saw an add for someone looking for an assistant to help develop a cooking show. Of course I applied. I should have known something wasn’t quite right when my interview lasted six hours and included a trip to the wig store.

The next day, the Cooking Lady (here after known as CL) called me and offered me the job. Not before asking me to work for free for a “trial period,” though. I said no (I had just finished a three month long unpaid internship that got me precisely nowhere) and for the entire two years I worked for her she never let an opportunity to bring it up slide. We’d be in front of dozens of people and someone would compliment my work, and she would say something like, “Well, you know I wanted Miss Amy to do an unpaid trial period, but she said no! That sister don’t work for free so don’t ask her!” It was so uncomfortable.

She and her husband had this bullshit non-profit that supposedly provided books to underprivileged elementary schools’ libraries and supported after school reading programs. In my two year employment with the Cooking Lady, I never once saw her, her husband, or anyone on her staff do any sort of activity for the nonprofit whatsoever. However, we were constantly badgering local businesses and donors for contributions to the nonprofit. Guess what that money and those products went toward? You got it – the cooking show. Central Market, the high end grocery store analogous to Whole Foods, once donated $200 worth of gift cards to Non Profit. She made me take them to the store and buy things for the show. Not only that, she wanted me to find the manager and ask for more. When I got back, I just lied and said they said no. I never in a million years would have done that. They funneled all kind of money that was donated to the nonprofit to the cooking show. It was so fucking illegal I’m still not over it.

She was constantly asking everyone for more, more, more. If anyone was generous toward her, she would take everything they had. We once went to film at a goat farm where they made incredibly delicious, high end, artisnal and very expensive goat cheeses. The owner was giving us a tour of the facility, very generously letting us sample different cheeses, when CL pointed to an entire wheel of their most expensive bleu and said, “Can I have that?” Just like that. “Can I have that?” The flustered owner tried to pass it off like CL had asked for a sample so she pushed the sample wedge toward her and CL had the gall to say, “NO. I want THAT. The wheel.” Everyone was mortified and the poor owner mumbled something about how that cheese sells for $20 per pound and if she gave away a ten pound wheel her investors would shoot her.

Stuff like that happened all the time. She once asked for an entire side of beef at a processing house. If she sent a group of us out without her, she’d be sure to tell us to come back with something donated. It was like she had some sort of compulsion about seeing how much she could squeeze out of people before they balked. It was a very strange pathology.

As for talent, she wasn’t too bad. She was a decent cook. I wouldn’t call her great, but no worse than Rachel Ray or some of the other Food Network people. She could be very charming when she wanted and she was unfailingly nice if you didn’t work for her or if you didn’t have anything you could possibly give her for free. She had a good look, a nonthreatening housewife look with a bit of a stylish edge. If she had played her cards right, she might have landed at least a few guest spots on big shows like Paula Deen and maybe even landed her own show one day.

But she couldn’t get focus. She started out wanting to do African American and Caribbean style cooking which was her background and what she was best at. But she tried to be everything to everyone. We had worked out a pretty good schedule of recipes comprised mainly of soul food, some West African dishes, and a lot of barbeque and stews from the Caribbean. Then one day she walked into the office announcing that we were going to ditch all the episodes we had planned and only do one soul food show. She wanted vegetarian, budget, health, Asian (I laughed at her when she said that and got sent home for the day), etc etc. It was insane.

She started refusing to test recipes. I would make them at home and nothing worked as written. She would make me spend all day researching something completely off-the-wall, like how to use tofu in desserts, then ditch all my research and call me stupid in front of the staff. When we finally started filming, it was a nightmare, with call times of 5:30am finally ending the day at 11:30pm. For six days straight with one day off in two-and-a-half weeks. To get the bad recipes to work, I would have to fudge the outcome in the back room so we could get good photos of finished product. This took more time than I can explain. She berated me in front of the crew more than once for something ridiculous like not putting her hot sauce in the right spot. More than once, a crew member hired for the shoot told me to walk off set instead of put up with her crap. I was young and naive and wouldn’t do it, though.

After two weeks of the nightmare shoot, she spent a couple of months shopping the (terrible and unfocused) show. Everyone rejected her, even the LOCAL PBS station who normally would put anyone on air if they were local and begged enough. Miracle upon miracles, one day we got a call from the Food Network. They wanted to have a conference called with CL. We were all giddy with excitement, and there were about ten of us in the room the day of the conference call. The head of programing of the FN was on the line. He offered CL a spot on Next Food Network Star, with a contractual guarantee she would end up in the top six contestants. (And now you know your reality shows are rigged, lol. Please don’t sue me, Food Network. I am poor and you will get very little.) We were all like, hey not bad, nodding at each other. THAT IS WHEN SHE REJECTED THE OFFER AND CALLED THE HEAD OF PROGRAMING AT THE FOOD NETWORK AT RACIST. There was this looooong silence from the other end of the line. When he finally spoke it was to say, “Thank you for your time, Mrs. CL.” and then he hung up.

I watched as my dreams of Food Network assistant stardom evaporated. Two weeks later she laid me off at a brunch (!) she scheduled and had invited my whole family to (!). At least I have a good story. I really want to shop it into a young adult novel one day.

9/11 at the Pentagon with a Monster, from Anonymous

During the fall of 2001, I was working at the Pentagon several days a week. My company was doing a big project with a group there and we had shiny new offices in the renovated wedge. The guys I worked with were great; I loved working with them; I loved being in the Pentagon; I loved everything about my job.

I wasn’t there the morning of Tuesday, September 11, but the minute the plane hit, I knew it had gone into the side where my co-workers sat. I spent the rest of the day trying frantically to reach them, to no avail. Late that afternoon, I fielded a call from my manager’s manager, the one whose baby the big project was. He demanded to know if it was going forward as scheduled. I told him that I didn’t know, as the team’s survival was in question and the general they reported to probably had other things on his mind.

My manager’s manager absolutely exploded. “YOU HAD BEST REMEMBER WHO YOU’RE WORKING FOR!” he screamed at me, so loudly that I had to hold the phone away from my ear. “YOU DON’T WORK FOR THEM! YOU WORK FOR ME! YOU GET AHOLD OF SOMEONE OVER THERE RIGHT NOW AND FIND OUT IF WE ARE DOING THIS THING!”

I honestly don’t remember what I said to get him off the phone. I was watching F-16s fly combat air patrols around DC from my office window, the Pentagon was still burning, there was a rumor that someone had set off a car bomb outside State. I think there was some stuff happening in New York, too. And this guy was screaming at a 25-year-old minion to, I dunno, call Donald Rumsfeld at home or something and inquire as to the status of his pet project?

The team all survived and the project went forward. Our offices were totally destroyed and we relocated to a part of the building I don’t think had been touched since V-E Day. Me and one of the guys still exchange emails every 9/11. My manager’s manager never apologized. I didn’t expect him to.

Bonus: Another terrible 9/11 boss story. Jesus.

Things my 68-year-old boss says, from Anonymous

These are some of the things my 68 year old boss says:

“When a girl hits 18, her body turns to shit”
“My granddaughter has beautiful breasts” (referring to his 16 year old granddaughter.)
To his 11 and 13 year old granddaughters “Look at you, so young and full of hormones.”
Repeated questions about my wife’s grooming habits, specifically about her pubic hair.
“Where are those bikini pictures of your wife’s cousin?”
“At my age, [masturbating] is like pulling on a pile of pudding.”
“Do you have any naked pictures of anyone in your family that I can look at?”
“I’d like to fuck an underage Chinese girl in the ass.”
He told one of our employees, who is a lesbian, that one day she will be an “old dyke.”

“I could give that 45 year old counter girl a good fucking… of course with my diabetes I’d have to go on a diet for three years just to get my dick to work.”

In a company meeting he informed everyone that Asians have “different sized genitalia” and looked at me and said “Isn’t that right?” because I have a Chinese wife.

The Dramatic Designer, from Anonymous

I worked as an assistant to a fashion designer for three years. I told her I had to quit because I wanted to travel (aka get away from terrible job)

She would scream at people in the workspace, calling them morons and/or cunts.

Once, she had to pay someone out of the petty cash and laid down on the floor next to the drawer for approx 10 minutes while I stood awkwardly nearby with the person and made small talk. Then she said, “I should just shoot myself in the head and get it over with” Said person was owed $250

The following is just an excerpt of the longest email I’ve ever received after giving my two weeks she began screaming and crying that she never wanted to see me again:

this has paralyzed me.

it has made me think you must hate me.

and maybe you do.

and if that is the case than shame on you for not walking out sooner.

shame on you for lying to me, shame on you for allowing yourself to share in my dreams, my ideas, my hopes, my treasures, my garden, my memories, my lunches, my kitty, my chocolate, even my sicknesses and pains.

shame on you for taking my lessons and mentorship.

i would have crumbled and risen from dust to glory if i was so lucky to be taught the things you have just been taught, seen the things you have seen and been presented the opportunities you have been presented (and not embraced)

……………………………. And to have those things given to me out of love, because someone loved me. because someone cared about me enough to try to help me escape unnecessary hardships and pain and wasted time.

my heart has not stopped racing since the close of that elevator door, so much so that at nights i wonder if i will not wake up because i cant imagine a heart could stand so much racing.

so if you were looking for someone to embrace your pain i have, ….probably 10 times over.

if you just meant to hurt me, you did.

It would mean a lot to me if you could show me a final kindness and create the work list and clipboard i requested in my previous email?

please let me know if this is possible

thanks

The Crazy Lady, from Anonymous

The worst fucking boss I ever had was a woman I remember as The Crazy Lady.

Until the day she was fired by her higher-ups for calling a new hire a nigger, The Crazy Lady used to confide in other employees o9f my company that it was her ambition to drive “the fat fuck,” me, to suicide. She was very bipolar and on her bad days she went into screaming, obscene rants, lasting an hour or more about how I was a fat piece of shit who would never be loved by anybody and how I should just die. On good days she did things like flash her tits and brag that it was the biggest thrill of my life. The screaming matches occurred at the rate of once or twice a week and for three years I went home with chest pains. It was the single worst time of my adult life.

She made it her business to make my working conditions as awful as possible, even if that meant instituting rules that only applied to me. For instance, she was allowed to play music in her office. So was everybody with an office, except me. The rules said that I, and I only I, was not allowed to play music while I worked. When I started doing it anyway, she stood over me when I was on the phone with a customer and screamed at me until the call was over.

Once she declared a week from my first trip to see my parents in over a year that I was not allowed to go. She told me that she took great satisfaction in me having to reschedule and spend more money.

Whenever I took sick time I had to work overtime to make it up. This meant that if I was sick for two days I had to add twenty hours to the next week’s schedule. Told this was illegal, she simply screamed more.

I once showed up ten minutes early to find her already working on my discipline report for lateness.

Her first priority when a new employee was hired was to make sure that person became my enemy at once. A favorite story was that I had gotten so angry at her that I tossed a typewriter through a plate glass window and injured somebody walking by on the street. This was believed by people. Once or twice I had folks question me about this fictional incident, prompting the return question from me, “Why am I still working here and why am I not in jail?” Nor was this the worst story she made people believe. She made sure people thought that I was once in a mental hospital, and that I was a dangerous man.

When she was fired for calling the new hire a nigger, she continued dropping by the office to visit family and on one occasion warmly greeted me by saying, “Hey! Fat Fuck!” In her mind, I was actually nostalgic for that. She imagined herself to be my friend and sobbed hysterically when she found out she wasn’t invited to my wedding.

It was when she screamed obscenities at me in the parking lot, where she was waiting to pick up her husband, that I got her permanently banned from the entire facility — something her husband concurred with.

The day earlier this year that I received word of her death, I felt free.

“She slapped a bandaid on it”, from Anonymous

I got a meat grinder blade to the face and needed stitches, but my boss wouldn’t let me off work. It happened when I was unloading the dish washer and didn’t realize I shouldn’t pick up this machine part by its [dull] blade instead of the heavy base it was attached to. I didn’t even recognize it, because it wasn’t usually something I unloaded. The blade was attached to a heavier base, which it detached from when I went to lift it. That’s how it flew up and hit me in the face! (The base stayed in the dishwasher). I felt really stupid when I hit myself in the head with it, and I was stunned for a moment, leaned forward and put my head down on my arm. Then I noticed the blood. My boss wouldn’t even let me go into the bathroom to look at my face. She slapped a bandaid on it and sent me back to work. I had to ask a coworker to look under the bandaid and tell me how bad it was. He held up a shiny serving platter for me as a mirror and said, “You need to go get stitches, NOW.” I went downstairs to the ER and waited to get what ended up being five stitches. That’s right, downstairs. Because I was working IN A HOSPITAL kitchen’s dish room. That was THE WORST BOSS EVER!

Uh, Maybe Go to OSHA?, from Katuriankaturian

Working in Hollywood IS as bad as they say.

Three months in of the worst boss ever, he asks me to “look over my shoulder seductively” so he can take a picture. I was in a room full of male coworkers, and felt extremely pressured to comply.

An hour later said boss emails me and everyone in the office a photoshopped picture of my face on a naked woman’s body.

I still work here and have worked here for almost two years. All anyone has to say when I cry about how horrible my job is, “well, the economy is so shit you better not quit until you have another one lined up!”

FML.

Sexist Psycho, from MushutheWhale

I once worked in a large chain retail store. At 19 it was a great part time job, and everyone seemed so cool. I was a late bloomer, socially awkward and hugely into gaming, so I hit it off well with the geeky tech department. Most of the staff went out together after work and the managers and commissioned salespeople were always buying drinks. When I worked hung over on a Sundays my manager would announce to everyone before opening that he was the most hung over of all. It was a slacker paradise.

My general manager would sleep with the young female staff when they were drunk. His victims all professed how cool they were with it, but it was wrong on so many levels. (Boss+alcohol+sexysex = glorified rapist).

Once the GM dared one of the other managers to touch my butt and pretend it was an accident. It was so obvious what they were doing. 2 other managers watched (from 10 feet away, giggling) while the new guy awkwardly pretended to be grabbing for something under the counter. He didn’t even take anything, there was nothing under there except a handful of ass.

The company had morale boosting video contest every year. We had made some decently funny videos in the past that included everyone and also painted our GM as a smooth ladies man. Then he completely hijacked it and made it into a video about how cool he was, and how he and the operations manager were just like the wedding crashers. It was terrible, not clever at all and painful to watch. They completely ignored my glorious door-crashers puns. It prominently featured shots of the butts of the female staffers who they’d slept with. They made us watch it every weekend during morning meetings.

Then they called me into a back room to show me their ‘new video’. A bunch of my male coworkers had gathered and were clearly very excited to show me. They showed me a video of 2 naked women, one wearing an enormous strap on standing in a bathtub. The one with the strap on forced it down the other one’s throat until she puked. Over and over, both of them puking all over each other and choking on the strap on. They laughed and I just walked away, completely traumatized.

This was before 2 girls 1 cup and being quite young I didn’t know what to do. I liked my job and my friends there, so I didn’t say anything. Now I feel terrible because the managers showed this video at our next weekend meeting. To the entire staff, on a huge projection screen. It was before Christmas so we had hired extra temp staff, most of whom were in high school .

Thankfully someone else complained and the GM was fired immediately. Somehow he managed to receive a huge payout and all the guys there talked him up like he was some kind of legend. The legend of the bro-boss/rapist.

Double “Creative” Trouble, from Anonymous

It is difficult to paint an accurate picture without an exorbitant amount of detail. I worked for married entrepreneurs as a “life assistant”. Our office was located their un-air conditioned home basement. I completed administrative tasks related to their respective businesses, but also put their children down for naps, was taught the ways of the Kabbalist (it was 2005…Demi & Ashton helped make it famous!) and was verbally and emotionally toyed with daily.

The couple consulted a psychic regularly and where I was discussed. My male employer was a cruel, authentically narcissistic asshole who hides behind this spiritual ethereal persona of “I love all-I don’t judge” but he does; very judgmental-of me particularly.

He wanted to become completely dependent on me…he claims to have no boundaries or detail orientation…so as a result he refuses to use any deductive reasoning or common sense.

Every conversation or question results in a preachy life lesson or a critique on how I respond….for example he’ll ask what the weather is like and I’ll say “it’s nice” and he’ll say “nice? What does nice mean? what’s nice to YOU may not be what’s nice TO ME”. This kind of behavior is a constant daily thing.

The following are quotes from three, very long, critical email rants he has sent me recently.

11. I am not comfortable with the mess in your office space. I’m not sure what space you need or supplies in order to keep your space clean.
12. I shared this with you last week that I wanted you take ownership for the office space. It’s a mess and it does not give me a free feeling.
There is negative energy when I look at your space. Your space was to be my refuge because of my inability to keep my own space clean.”
***Reader note…we work…the three of us…in a cramped basement***

“I am not easy to work with. I have a level of creativity that is not manageable; it never was in corporate America either. I was never a “golden child” working for others. I know my assets and I am very comfortable in my skin. I am not asking you to be like me; trust me it causes amazing stress.
I have no boundaries as you have learned. It is not for you to get frustrated or worry about it is for you to do as I ask so you can get aligned in order to support me the way I need you to in order to support the explosive growth.”

(The Psychic) told us with you business would explode and it has. (The Psychic) shared with me last Friday that we’re exploding even more so. The only way we will be able to take this on is if we’re all on the same page. For me this means I need to come and go freely in who I am to generate the creative genius that is I.”

“No one has ever asked you to be extraordinary; we are!!! We posted for a “Life Assistant.” We need to get there sooner rather than later. Give yourself a chance to step into the unknown world.”

My favorite part…..once, while droning on about the lack of accountability people have, he said to me, “not to be offensive to you, but people who are overweight can’t manage their emotions and blame it on fast food.”

I was in an out of there in 6 months and was fortunate to have swiftly found a less abusive position. Although, I still have a PTSD response to talk of psychics.

The Walking TED (Talk), from Anonymous

I left my non-profit job searching for greener pastures and hopefully a greener pocket and joined a start up. In my mind, the rough times would be worth it, when someone acquired us and I got paid out—not so.

I was hired in as the only female in the mix as the new market director. The CEO/Founder was a guy, who you could tell probably played lacrosse, not football and has now swollen with stresses of becoming middle aged. In his mind he was still hot though and could have whatever hot girl he wanted. Yes, he did have eyes like Bradley Cooper but you forgot all about it with everything else that came with the package.

He was a salesman who would use works/phrases like “synergy”, “net-net”, “transtheoretical model of change”, or whatever the latest phrase was that he heard on the TED talk he saw on YouTube. He thought this made him sound smart. Not if you use them in the wrong context, buddy!

He drank nothing but coffee, so his breath was awful, and he would share stories of his latest conquest with me and talk about the women, like I wasn’t one! “Man, this chick, lemme tell you…” or “She better be glad she has a nice rack…” He even had a few comments about women’s ethnicity as well, and as a woman of color, ooww weee. I had to get him together a few times, but in the same stroke, I had to be careful NOT to be the angry Black/Latino or whatever woman, you know?

He was like the guy on Pootie Tang who would repeat everything that Chris Rock would say. Ugh! Come up with your own idea dude! Ultimately he was trying to do the same thing as Farmigo, but was mad they beat him to the punch.

As a startup, we were housed in a business incubator space, so it was a wide open office space. I was in the farthest corner away from him, but on occasion, I would look up and see him digging profusely in his nose while researching the next buzz phrase that he could use in conversations. He talked a lot about Malcolm Gladwell, Seth Godin, and Chris Martenson but I am sure he hasn’t really read any of it.

I remember in a pitch meeting with a large healthcare corporation, he wouldn’t shut up long enough for the guy to tell him that he had no empirical evidence for the guy to invest in our program (which was ultimately true) so he started to argue and we got kicked out. I knew then, I had to get the hell out of there. This dude was to big in his own mind. Understandable that you have to dream big and fail fast as a start up to truly encompass innovation, but this dude is a overly confident, pseudo-savant that wants to try to make money on an idea that anyone can create with a “product” that did nothing but create nice spreadsheet on the backend for farmers.

Honorable Mentions:

• “I walked in on him sitting at my desk jacking off.”
• AUGH.
• “told another colleague, under his breath, that she was only good for fucking”
• Menopause.
• “Upon finding out that my husband makes a decent salary she told me she didn’t appreciate me ‘taking up someone else’s spot who actually needs a job'”
• I hope there were continuity errors.
• My boss got really angry with me one day and told one of my co-workers that I was a cock-tease who was going to be raped by the neighborhood dude and beaten by my boyfriend because of my “slutty” behavior.”
• Abusive ex nightmare.
• Best one-liner—”masseuses move muscle. i move bones”
• “A forest fire was about 1/2 mile from our offices, and an evacuation order was in place. He told us if we did not come in anyway – in violation of forest service and sheriff orders – we would be fired.”
• Poop trail book store.
• “I have the baby, which was expected, and a ten pound tumor (10 0z bigger than the kid) removed 8 weeks after giving birth. A weeks after that I got a letter in the mail firing me.”
• CAT THIEF.

I could go on and on and on and on. Forever, maybe. SO MANY TERRIBLE BOSSES. I’m sorry if your awful boss didn’t make it in here — it doesn’t mean that person is less terrible than any of these terrible monster garbage people. It just means that I had to give up before I went all Firestarter on office complexes across America. If you need more bad boss stories — because why? Maybe you’re getting ready to hop into the MMA octagon and you need to tap into some serious wrath — just pop a Xanax and then go crazy on the original post.

And with that, I want to thank Jessica and Dodai so much for being kind human beings and hold them forever in my bosom and send them chocolate and hugs and unicorns and rainbows until the end of time.