While the political content of this is small: this completes a trilogy of my political awakening: by highlighting the people who made me what I am (and a member of this and other communities).
I wrote two diaries about my political awakening and final break from my swing-voter past; then one about my GOP parents which described how they taught me liberal values even while conservative Republicans.
But the final step is to speak of my first (full-time job) boss, who helped shape my life in ways I had no idea of at the time. Since then, I’ve been lucky: not only have I not had a "boss from hell" – I haven’t even had a "boss from heck!" But Wally was the most important - and once again: if you don’t mind reading a diary light on politics, stay tuned.
After graduating from college in 1978, I went through a rough transition period: unable to find a permanent job that I could hold (and going through some poor temp jobs) I was finally hired by a food-service company in New York the autumn of 1979. When I was escorted by the personnel manager (into the company controller’s office) he said, "Ed, this is Wally; he’ll be conducting your interview". Nervous as always, I relaxed upon seeing on his wall a poster of Laurel & Hardy from the "March of the Wooden Soldiers" - laughing in each others' arms - with the caption at the bottom: "About Your Raise". Did that ever relax me – and the interview went so well, I hoped not just that I got this job ... but that I could work for this man. I never had that feeling before; it was a good feeling. But weeks went by, so I gave up that thought.
Then I got a call from the personnel manager again: they had gone through a corporate shake-up and had placed the new hire on hold. Was I still available/interested? Yes, I replied, nothing else had come through. And so one more interview with another manager and then Wally offered me the job. Wotta relief; and I looked forward to my first day. That he grew up in Jersey City (as had my mom) only helped us bond; she would often ask me about him.
I quickly saw that my initial reactions were correct: Wally was everything a good boss should be. If I screwed up, he let me have it – in private. If I did a good job, he told others - publicly. He showed me how to write a business report ("Read it out loud" was quite sound advice), how to use my accounting spreadsheets (in those pre-computer days) efficiently, told me to focus on doing the job right rather than quickly, to admit mistakes, to ask for help at the risk of looking foolish, and that if I had to turn in something quick and dirty: to let him know where I had to "wing it" so he would be prepared. Probably obvious stuff, but not something they teach you in Intermediate Accounting or Finance II.
In fact, the reason why I use my real name as my User ID here on D/K came from him: "Always be proud to sign your name to your work, it’s the best discipline one can have". I hasten to add: I know that’s not a choice for many of you (fears that your employer, minister, family, etc. might see your work is a real concern) and some just enjoy pseudonyms. But since I am not in a position to have to worry about those factors, I fall-back upon Wally’s words.
Sandy, the tax manager, told me something after I had been there a few months. "Eddie, you’re in a good spot. Wally likes you, and if you work hard for him and are loyal: he’ll look out for you". Two years later, a new hire named Joe went to work for Dom (the accounting manager) whom I got along with but can’t say I overly cared for. Joe told me that – since I was the only employee who directly reported to Wally – "I envy you, pal – you’re Wally’s boy". He did not intend that – nor did I take that – as an insult. He was right, and something I grew to appreciate.
All along, I became aware that I was joining a firm that had its stormy periods. The CEO (who was known as "the old man" even by 60-something salesmen) had taken the company public 25+ years earlier, but still acted as if he was a sole proprietor. "Back-seat drivers" was his reference to stockholders; he survived a proxy fight for control of the board largely because he and those loyal to him had 35% of the stock (and so winning 16% of 65% wasn’t too difficult). He fired presidents like the way George Steinbrenner did in those days: 10 presidents in 12 years. This began to slow down by the time I was hired, and in my 2-1/2 years there things were much more stable. Still, I recall VP’s being canned, and then some of their hires were also fired: not those in entry-level jobs, but not all that much higher ... if someone was seen as "So-and-So’s boy" – guilt by association, in other words. No organization I have ever worked for since was like that, so luckily this was a one-time-only occurrence for me.
And that’s where Wally came in as well: if I handed in something going to senior management with as much as a rounding error, one would hear back about it, no matter how detailed and accurate the report was. Wally would cover for me saying, "Hey, I gave the kid a bad figure" and then tell me, "They’re not going to get rid of me after all of these years". He would then work with me to ensure that I did a final-check on rounded percentages going forward. You can see why my self-confidence grew working for him.
But in fact: three years earlier (before my arrival) Wally Graham was almost fired. The Financial VP ("Wild Bill" was his nickname) was Dr. Jekyll to his superiors and Mr. Hyde to his subordinates – and he drove Wally (at age 48 then) to take a (short) leave of absence from stress. Fortunately, Wild Bill wound up on someone else’s termination list before Wally did – and Ben, the company president at the time, personally called Wally to say, "He’s gone".
I think that experience mellowed Wally - he would often say to me after I handed him that day’s cash report, "Eddie, what’s it all going to mean in 20 years, anyway?" He sometimes would tell me "stay here for a few years, get some experience – then get a job at a better place than this", which surprised me. And he encouraged me to get involved in a professional society; to volunteer for income tax work ... things that would not only look good on my resume but also help me personally. That’s why I think I became something of an organizer in later life: arranging events with our friends, organizing a Drinking Liberally chapter, getting involved in my town Democratic committee (years ago when I had the time) and participating in Cheers & Jeers meet-ups. It’s because Wally encouraged me to get out there, to make a difference. I know I became more willing to speak up if (a) I had something to say and (b) was prepared to defend it.
Besides the fact that he was such a good role model: I think it’s the fact that he was my first boss (at a critical time in my life) that made him so special to me. (If he came to life today, with his brain cells updated to 2009: I don’t think he would mean 1/10 to me now). In large measure this is because I had lost my father at age 20, and while Wally wasn’t a father figure to me – the only way I could describe it would be working for your favorite uncle. (This may not register with female readers as much as I believe it would for men). I had someone that I could talk about life to; his door was never closed. More than once, he’d pass my desk and say, "Eddie, there’s a new girl in payroll – just your type" and before I could protest he’d add, "I’m working on it for you" before disappearing around the corner.
I found myself telling my friends and family members about him, and so when we met they’d ask, "Hey, how is Wally doing?" And which I would tell them of his latest saying, joke or remark. Not something I’ve done since. We never discussed politics much; I suspect that he was a typical suburban New Jersey Republican in that he grew to dislike Carter (yet didn’t appear to be a Reaganite, didn't get the feeling he was much motivated by politics). I did remember seeing a survey form on his desk in 1981, in which he answered the question "Would gay employees face discrimination at your company?" He answered (in a multiple-choice category) "Some" but to the next question "Would you feel any discomfort with a gay co-worker?" he answered, "None". In 1981, that wasn’t common.
And finally, the most notorious part of him: one could say that Wally corrupted me. My parents never uttered a curse word (or almost any derogatory comment about anyone, for that matter) and they were a fairly straight-laced couple. Warm and loving, yet uncomfortable around sexuality, four-letter words and bawdiness in general. And while my friends and I were not that way, it’s fairly safe to say that at age 22 I was still a "nice boy". Wally .... ummm... changed that.
Wally would recite dirty limericks (often in a call-and-response with Sandy the tax manager next door) and when in his office with Sandy one day, he explained over the phone that the old IBM 36 computer was down, he followed up with "So do you want us to do those bills by hand?" and made a ... well, physical gesture in unison. I must have blushed, as he said, "Aww, the kid’s shy".
Now, apart from him, Dom and Sandy: most of us on that floor were twenty-somethings, and so we could play around with each other in many ways. Dottie, the A/P manager, would put her arm around me and ask, "Doll, can you make a journal entry to fix this bungled wire transfer advice?" and there was a list of number-coded expletives that we each seemed to have. "807" meant "This place sucks" – and to this day I use the expression. Light-hearted fun, as this came from peers, not boss-subordinate, etc.
Unsurprisingly, Wally was the instigator: asking one woman "How about this weekend?" to which she’d smile, roll her eyes and say, "Not again, you old man". When she left, Wally would look at me and say, "Eddie – I think she’s ready". Just a few years later, any of this would have generated (and quite rightly so) a lot of trouble. But in those days, no one thought about this – and because we were mostly the same age, position, etc. – we all took it as fun. But it was foreign to me; it took me time to get used to it. Frances, his part-time pension clerk, told me that one time a woman on his commuter train called his bluff by saying, "This weekend sounds good". Sure enough, Frances smiled, Wally started waffling ... "he’s all talk", she concluded.
All of which is background for the time in 1981 that I became truly angered at him. Andrea, one of the front-office secretaries, had her tote bag on the floor near her desk one morning when Wally walked by. Apparently, one item in the bag was her copy of Playgirl Magazine (with the masthead just sticking out, if you were looking closely). For a man as bawdy as he was (he had some men’s magazines in his desk, which he showed me one time) the words he uttered were incomprehensible. "Can you believe that?!" he told Sandy. "I wouldn’t let my daughter read that crap!" and so forth.
I was thisclose to walking in and telling-off my boss at age 24: that he was a damned hypocrite, a chauvinist, held double-standards, etc. The fact that I remained employed at the end of the day tells you that I thought better of the idea, and kept my mouth shut. But still, I seethed for an hour. And yet, not much longer than that.
Because I then wondered, "Why was I so upset?" That wasn’t the first example of hypocrisy I had seen, it wasn’t even the worst example. And then it dawned on me: I was upset because I loved this man. I held him the highest esteem and had never thought he had any flaws. "He’s a human being", I kept reminding myself. And someone born circa 1929 would hold some viewpoints that most of us would find upsetting, to be sure. When I went home, I decided to let go of it and remind myself I still had the best boss in the world.
A few Friday afternoons later he was cleaning out some old files and telling old stories of the company’s products. I called upstairs to a co-worker and said, "Mike, you and Ralph get down here on the double – Wally’s telling stories" and hung up. Mike didn’t ask questions; he and Ralph arrived just when Wally was telling a stem-winder about an old company president (with some appropriate ribaldry) that was the old Wally – and they enjoyed his story-telling as much as I did.
I came into the office the following Monday morning (after a nice weekend) to see a gathering around his office. Wally had died of a heart attack (at age 53) that previous Friday night; a company VP named Joe had said, "Ed, we were thinking of calling you but decided against it". I was grateful they hadn’t spoiled my weekend yet still – in the words of a John Mayall song – "Night came early in my day". And since I was the only other employee besides Wally who knew the bank balance passwords and codes, I was asked to stay behind two days later (when the company had hired a van to bring others to his funeral) as the only one on the 3rd floor offices.
I wasn’t upset about that, but his death had a greater impact on me than my own father dying – if only because my dad and I were close and we told each other what we thought of each other (the three magic words weren’t in his vocabulary, but we all demonstrated it). But other than beginning my first day – I had never thanked Wally for hiring me, nor expressed my appreciation for his guidance ... hadn’t even sent a Christmas card. I’ve not repeated that again.
It’s probably uncommon for people to cite a boss as an important role model that wasn’t a blood relative – but I can. I’ve had great bosses over the years; my current one (Denis) and I have a mature relationship that is very satisfying; I couldn’t handle even a semi-paternalistic one today. But Wally was the right boss at the right time. I hope every young person could have someone like him – OK, maybe minus the ribaldry and innuendos that are out of place today (and rightly so). But working for him was always an interesting fate – I am glad it was mine.