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It’s True: Hating Yourself Makes You a Bad Boss.

In the pantheon of workplace horrors, the bad boss reigns supreme—a figure both mundane and monstrous, capable of transforming the ordinary into a landscape of dread.

I've encountered my share of these petty tyrants, each leaving an indelible mark on the canvas of my professional life.

One of my earliest jobs was for a casting director who hurled staplers (not staples) at our heads if we didn’t answer the phone on the half-ring.

Later, as a Production Assistant (PA) on a film set, my direct superior (the 1st Assistant Director aka 1st AD) was the silicone upon which the LA bro mold was set.

One sweltering summer night, after a grueling shoot in the Bronx, we started wrapping up at 3 a.m. The 1st AD had me “police” the area—a euphemism for cleaning up.

I wore shorts and a tank top, sticky and sweaty from humidity and stress. Task completed, I approached the air-conditioned van, filled with the male PAs and the 1st and 2nd AD. The 1st AD rolled the window down, smirked, waved and wished me "Good luck!" and drove off, stranding me miles from home, without cash or ID.

It seems the joke was on them. Walking downtown in the middle of the night, I stumbled into a bar hoping someone might give me subway fare, only to find the producer and director mid-nightcap. They summoned a cab, paid for it, and fired the 1st AD.

But it's the pandemic-era tyrant who haunts me most—a white man in publishing who wanted to get into podcasting. He hired me to write, host, co-produce, and program a book podcast.

He dismissed all my ideas, calling my list of proposed authors “woke,” unless I mentioned any white women authors, whom he derisively called “Park Slope moms.” He refused to hire any people of color because “we have to hire someone good,” paid me three times less than the engineer, and was sexually inappropriate at every turn.

When I recorded voice-overs, he’d sit in the studio, telling me I was untalented, worthless, incompetent, and not good at anything. When the pandemic hit, and I had to record in my closet, he’d call in and berate me the same way.

He tried to control my online presence, barraging me with abusive texts after I posted anything on my personal social media accounts. He constantly talked behind my back to the engineer, who confided in me everything that was said. This did not help matters.

I worked for two years for this person, during the pandemic when I was at my loneliest and most vulnerable, and he dismantled me layer by layer until there was nothing left.

The scars of these encounters reveal a universal truth: the power dynamics of the workplace can warp and wound in subtle and profound ways. Yet, in sharing these stories, I hope to offer solidarity.

This suggests that perhaps, in the retelling, we might find a way to reclaim our narratives and transmute pain into wisdom.

I asked people online to submit their bad boss stories. I’ve chosen three. The last one is the longest and juiciest.

May these stories of workplace tyranny remind you that you are not alone, and that you can find the strength to forge better paths for yourselves and for those who come after.

Let’s dive in…

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