He wants you to watch his back.
What am I to say to you people? Many of you get it. The rest of you? God help you.
You really hated the idea, for instance, that you have to be somewhere when the Boss needs you. Ooh! Ouch!
Then you were informed that you had to dress for the job. That went down a little smoother, as did the idea that you needed to tell the truth most of the time. I was kind of disappointed that you didn’t freak out over that stuff.
What are you going to say now, when I tell you that your boss expects you to care about his skin? The guy would throw you under a bus if he or she had to! How dare he?
Well anyhow… he does. She does. They do.
When Caesar was being stabbed to death by a large group of his senior managers, it was the cut made by Brutus, the reportee he trusted most, that hurt the worst.
When Howard Hughes had lost his mind, and had sealed himself inside a luxurious tomb high above Las Vegas, he relied on his trusted lieutenants to make sure business got done and that no germs were permitted to attack him.
When Richard Nixon was spiraling down into full-bore paranoia, he had two pit bulls named Haldeman and Erlichmann to watch his door, share his ravings, keep him inside the lines as much as possible.
This is perhaps why I continue to wonder what life inside the White House will be like for our current President without his faithful Rove. I don’t feel sorry for the guy, by the way. But I still wonder.
It’s hard to be the boss, precisely for the reasons some people think it’s not. You have some power. You have some freedom. You don’t have to worry about a lot of the things guys on the lower levels stay up sweating about. But some power is not absolute power. Some freedom is not enough. And the things that make you bolt upright at three in the morning are the kinds of monsters that chew your guts and spit them out, not just muss your hair a little.
You get to the office and people want, want, want. Big problems come up and you have to find solutions, or at least look like you have some idea of how to do so. You run here. You run there. And always, behind you, in the weeds, in your blind spot as you’re driving at 80 miles an hour down the road, there are enemies, fools, huge beasts with pointy fangs, and the shadow of your own potential incompetence crossing the sun.
Of course you need loyal, kind, intelligent, honest, appropriately-dressed, supremely competent individuals who don’t go on vacation during your busiest week to watch your back!
