I could have a separate blog about my dysfunctional workplace, but I try to avoid giving out too much negative attention.

So let me sum things up. My boss is technology coordinator for an organization of 150 people, but she asks me every day for help attaching files to email, what folder her scans went to, etc. I show her. I will show her a few times this coming week. She is OK with the salary that goes with her title, while I get less than half of hers to cover her butt. Fine. I know how real life works. I’m 58.

However, during committee meetings where we’re trying to actually get things done, she won’t shut up and she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. The classic attention whore.

Friday, we were attending what was supposed to be a hands-on training. My boss was the only one not following along on a laptop; she remained comfortable in the organization’s cherished pen and paper world, scribbling notes and making speeches. How is she going to learn how to do this if she doesn’t even log on? During one of her lengthier soliloquies, my friend, who was sitting next to me, got up to get some refreshments, and on her way back put a little sprig of grape branches in front of me. Since she and I have running food-type jokes, I decided to top it with my chewed gum. She whispered “Ewwww” so I put the sculpture in her empty cup.

Sharon, do you have something to add? This is very important.”

What the f**k? Are we in a 1950’s classroom? I guess I’m the bad influence parents warn about. Of all the people in our organization, Sharon has contributed the most in trying to move us technologically. She had been contributing verbally throughout the whole training. She handled our boss’s little hissy fit with an appropriate answer in a firm voice.

We all work for a non-profit, and, despite our boss’s bullying, many of us are trying, trying, trying…

The people that are doing most of the work have side conversations, varied perspectives, and, yes, light moments. We endure her pursed lips and the angry flash of her eyes when we try to interject a comment that will help the organization. Can’t you be OK with us giving you rapt attention 99% of the time?

But most are afraid of disagreeing with anything she says. And those are the ones The Queen wants surrounding her in her court.

So when the shit hits the fan, who will know what to do? The handmaids will do the only thing they know. They will all pleasantly smile at The Queen.

Then the Queen, all eyes upon her, won’t know how to clean up the shit.

And meanwhile, the ones who are getting things done need a little recess.