That HORRIFYING Adversary

I've had many jobs in my life(time). For years I had worked for temporary employment agencies in offices in Manhattan. Most of the clients were corporate banks. Then I moved to the Bay Area (San Francisco) and I did some temp work until I landed a full-time job (temp-to-perm).

I was young and didn't really know how to read all of the signs that showed up before me. Like... why was this job as a transcriptionist available? It seems the last two that worked there were so fed up with the "office manager" that when pay day came, they took their checks, high-tailed it to the Hibernia Bank of Union Street (that was the bank where the checks were drawn), and they never came back!

"Office manager" was written in quotes. She gave herself the title. She was a bookkeeper. She was a hillbilly from West Virginia. In fact, I used to refer to her as the WV hillbilly bookkeeper. And folks would laugh. She red pointed nails (no fills at the time) and frosted hair that was hair-sprayed in place after it had gone through the curling iron. They looked like bomb shells that were suspended on her head. The frosting job, I later learned was $100. Mind you that would be about $300 in today's market (reflecting a cumulative price increase of approximately 200% due to inflation... calculating the inflation rate from 1985 to today at around 2.78% to 2.79% per year).

This self-anointed, self-appointed office manager also had an eating disorder. It was one I had never actually seen in my life. She was anorexic. I remember looking it up in German for they always have such a rich description in their ability to name things. The word is magersüchtig and it means addicted to lean/thin.

I never saw her eat. She drank black coffee from an electric avocado colored percolator (from a 4-ounce mug) and she'd pop her own popcorn in a device that looked like an electric Teflon wok with a plastic lid. When she later discovered that popcorn could be mad with air popping (thus avoiding the need to use oil), you'd think she had just reached doggy-style orgasm.

She was the wife of a coast guard captain and--from what I had observed--the man had a roaming eye. I used to say that he had Roman eyes and Russian hands. Well, it would make ME laugh, anyway! She had issues with her weight. She would go into the bathroom and use the scale (the kind that had movable weights on it). She'd always be between 101 and 103. How did I know this? She'd leave the weights where they landed. Really? With this level of OCD did I think that a WV hillbilly with red pointed nails and bombshell curls was going to leave her weight exposed on the bathroom scale? It was her subtle way of letting folks know that she took care of herself.

Her office was right next to the bathroom. When I'd go in there, I would move the weights back to zero. And I'd do it loud enough for her to hear it.

Eating disorders in and among my tribe were usually presented with obesity and probably cases of diabetes mellitus. Never had I ever encountered a person who willingly subjected him-/herself to starvation. I take it back... I'm sure there were teenage girls who'd sip TaB and maybe take diet pills for a short term 'fix'. But starvation as a lifestyle? Uh-uh. Maybe she didn't know how to cook.

I always brought food to work. There was even a kitchen in the office. The food was usually a sandwich, a piece of fruit, and something to drink. On special days, I might fire up the stove and make something from scratch. I particularly loved days when I would make smelly food... salmon croquettes or chicken liver with onions were high on the list. I always assumed they were dying to ask but wouldn't dare. Over time, I thought that maybe they really didn't like the smell of the food. The WV hillbilly bookkeeper once told a story of a time when she worked for a Jewish doctor. He brought in borsht for her tor try. She called it beet soup. "It taste [sic] like dirt," was her assessment.

She was a mean woman. She was coached by the Coast Guard captain on how to stand tough and let the underlings know who was in charge. She'd often leave with the words, "Thanks for all your hard work, guys!" I remember that because I once said to her, "Thanks for all your heard work, ___!" as she walked into the work station. She was not amused.

I looked her up online. She died in 2022 at the age of 71. Her frosted hair was short and spiked. And the picture of her on the obituary page showed signs of Botox in her cheeks. She looked like a chipmunk that was about to make a run to its storage space with nuts in its mouth.

There is nothing really nice that I have to say about her. She was not a role model of any sort. [SHRUG]. I don't even care to know how she died or whether or not it was long or short, painful or pain free.

My encounter with her was one of those images that gets created and implanted based on repeated exposure and experience with someone who is/was toxic. Thankfully, I have learned to recognize anorexia and have also learned to stay clear of anyone who has it.