E.T. Phone Home

She was my favorite boss ever, because she was someone I really respected. She worked harder than any of us. She was there when we came in at 8:00. She was there when we went home at 5:00. She knew the workings of our department inside and out. She never asked any of us to do anything she would not do herself. She didn't suffer fools. She didn't tolerate tardiness or slacking off. She often bustled about visiting us in our cubicles, which meant all was good. But being summoned to her office was usually not a good thing. She was the cause of some of the crying that went on in the ladies' room. She was called the "b word," but not to her face. She actually had a lot of empathy and compassion under her tough exterior. Some never looked close enough to realize that. Her age was anywhere from 40 to 70. I was at that point in youth where people were either young like me, or they were old. She had a scary smoker's cough, and when she laughed it sounded like a dog barking.

Back when we were called secretaries, I typed letters and memos for her, and she would initial them "E.T." Everyone called her by her first name. Back before voice mail, I took her phone messages down on a pink pad that said, "while you were out." Her husband was retired and called often. She had a great love for him under her impatient exterior. No one really joked around with her much, but one day I felt bold, so when her husband called, I wrote on the pink pad, "E.T. Phone Home." She laughed so hard she started coughing and barking and I ran to get her some water.

One of my responsibilities was ordering office supplies for our department. Company policy was that a secretary like me could order normal items, but the more expensive items needed supervisor approval. Some amazing yellow sticky things called Post-It notes had just come on the market, and E.T. refused to approve my order for them. The girls in our department were up in arms. All the other departments were enjoying this new technology, but not us.  E.T. said they were unnecessary, and she wasn't having yellow stickers all over files and desks and such. So some people began to buy them with their own money at the store, and smuggled them in. She soon found out, and issued a department-wide ban on them. Things became very tense.

I worked for her a couple years, then I was moving out of the area, and on my last day of work E.T. took me out to lunch. We went somewhere very expensive, with white tablecloths and fancy waiters. I ate with my usual gusto and she said, "You can really eat. I'm surprised you're not obese." I knew she meant it as a compliment, so we both laughed and she barked. Over dessert, she said in her gruff voice, "I don't know what I'll do without you" and I saw that she had tears in her eyes. It was strange to see the one who was so famous for making other people cry, get a little teary.

Years later I heard from a friend that she had taken an early retirement package the company offered her, so she could spend more time golfing with her husband. (Turns out she was a lot closer to 40 than 70 when I was her secretary.) Just the other day someone emailed me a cute photo of a car completely covered with Post-It notes. Of course, I immediately thought of E.T.

Susan