Bullies Suck
So what did you think of the Mike Rice video from Rutgers?
You must have seen it, right?
For the uninitiated he was the basketball coach at Rutgers. Rice's manner of leadership was to beat-down and berate his players, swearing at them, throwing the ball, calling them gay slurs.
We've all had such a leader in our lives at one time or another, haven't we?
I've worked for a couple of bosses who were major-league assholes. Back about thirty years ago it was the chosen way of motivating people.
On my first construction job I worked for a guy named Joe. Joe was a bit short on brain power. He was mean as hell and he routinely got drunk at lunch.
He wasn't a happy drunk.
Let me set the scene:
We were carrying doors up three sets of stairs in the luxury hotel. It was a 40-something story hotel so there were a lot of doors that were heavy as hell.
Even at 18-years old...about 75 pounds ago...I was struggling.
I worked with a black guy, Tony, who was 6'-5" and about 250 pounds. (Think of the guy from the Green Mile).
Tony was strong as hell, and he worked harder than all of us. Tony could've carried those doors two at a time if he had to. He was also one of the most soft-spoken, kindest men I've ever met.
"I'll help," he said when he saw me drop the door. "If we carry them together we can move faster and not kill ourselves."
I was all for it.
We hustled up and down the stairs one guy on each end of the massive doors. We were actually doing it faster than one at a time.
But Joe spotted us.
"What the F&*$! You lazy-ass, ni&&&er!! Why can't you carry it by yourself?"
I stepped up.
"I can't carry it," I said. "He was helping me."
"Don't," Tony whispered, "Worry about it."
"CARRY THEM ONE AT A TIME!" Joe screamed. "I KNOW WHO THE LAZY ONE IS," HE CRIED. "GOD MADE THEM EASY TO SPOT, HE PAINTED 'EM BLACK."
Tony picked up a door. I struggled to get one too. As Tony passed Joe, Joe kicked him hard in the center of his ass.
Tony never turned around.
I think of how Tony's face looked that day.
I think of those poor guys standing at practice getting the ball whipped at their heads.
Being an asshole doesn't make you brilliant.
Guess what?
There was a happy ending to my above story because the big boss on the job shared a surname with me.
I told Dad the story on the way home from work.
The next day we had a new job foreman.
Tony got a quarter an hour jump in pay.
Joe left the job in San Francisco and headed for Reno.
Dad laughed when he told me how their meeting ended.
"I kicked him right in the center of his ass as he was leaving," he said.
Tony let the crew split the door-carrying duties.
We still got 'em all upstairs in a timely fashion.
You must have seen it, right?
For the uninitiated he was the basketball coach at Rutgers. Rice's manner of leadership was to beat-down and berate his players, swearing at them, throwing the ball, calling them gay slurs.
We've all had such a leader in our lives at one time or another, haven't we?
I've worked for a couple of bosses who were major-league assholes. Back about thirty years ago it was the chosen way of motivating people.
On my first construction job I worked for a guy named Joe. Joe was a bit short on brain power. He was mean as hell and he routinely got drunk at lunch.
He wasn't a happy drunk.
Let me set the scene:
We were carrying doors up three sets of stairs in the luxury hotel. It was a 40-something story hotel so there were a lot of doors that were heavy as hell.
Even at 18-years old...about 75 pounds ago...I was struggling.
I worked with a black guy, Tony, who was 6'-5" and about 250 pounds. (Think of the guy from the Green Mile).
Tony was strong as hell, and he worked harder than all of us. Tony could've carried those doors two at a time if he had to. He was also one of the most soft-spoken, kindest men I've ever met.
"I'll help," he said when he saw me drop the door. "If we carry them together we can move faster and not kill ourselves."
I was all for it.
We hustled up and down the stairs one guy on each end of the massive doors. We were actually doing it faster than one at a time.
But Joe spotted us.
"What the F&*$! You lazy-ass, ni&&&er!! Why can't you carry it by yourself?"
I stepped up.
"I can't carry it," I said. "He was helping me."
"Don't," Tony whispered, "Worry about it."
"CARRY THEM ONE AT A TIME!" Joe screamed. "I KNOW WHO THE LAZY ONE IS," HE CRIED. "GOD MADE THEM EASY TO SPOT, HE PAINTED 'EM BLACK."
Tony picked up a door. I struggled to get one too. As Tony passed Joe, Joe kicked him hard in the center of his ass.
Tony never turned around.
I think of how Tony's face looked that day.
I think of those poor guys standing at practice getting the ball whipped at their heads.
Being an asshole doesn't make you brilliant.
Guess what?
There was a happy ending to my above story because the big boss on the job shared a surname with me.
I told Dad the story on the way home from work.
The next day we had a new job foreman.
Tony got a quarter an hour jump in pay.
Joe left the job in San Francisco and headed for Reno.
Dad laughed when he told me how their meeting ended.
"I kicked him right in the center of his ass as he was leaving," he said.
Tony let the crew split the door-carrying duties.
We still got 'em all upstairs in a timely fashion.
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