Ghost in the Hell–A Workplace Horror Story

Unlike retail stores that show their Halloween stuff in July, I waited until now to conjure up a little verbal potion of apparitions that manifest themselves in the form of untalented and cowardly managers and executives.

You see, they don’t wait for All Hallow’s Eve to dress up as ghosts—they play the role all year long.

Just like all ineffective bosses are not alike, there are various methods employed by the bottom-feeders who would rather lurk as passive-aggressive cowards than have the courage to appear before their charges and reveal their actual frightening thoughts.

Ah..but isn’t Halloween all about fright? There’s a difference between being scary and not having the intestinal fortitude to scare up honest feedback.

Yes..it’s an exercise in the dark arts—keeping employees  in the dark about where they stand, the quality of their work, the chances of promotion or raise.

I’ve worked long enough to have been ghosted by several bosses. One day you’re in the “house,” having regular conversations and interplay with the person to whom you report. Then one day that house becomes haunted when that person metamorphosizes into a being never seen, never heard, acting as if you never existed.

You’re spooked.

The questions fly through your brain. Is the boss mad at me? Am I getting fired? What’s going on?

Then you make the mistake of approaching the body with no substance looking for answers. The replies you receive are as transparent as the ghost boss’s soul.

You can hear him or her now conjuring the lies they are about to tell you. Hovering over a cauldron of steaming bullshit, they stir it while chanting the ingredients they are adding.

“A gallon of lies! A dash of mis-direction! A pair of side eyes! A dollop of deceit!”

Then they serve it up expecting you to swallow…and believe.

That’s the time to politely explain you’re already up to here with crap and tender your notice.

When the dispirited spirit attempts to reverse your resolve, you turn to the empty vessel and calmly reply, “Not a fucking ghost of a chance.” 

Trick and retreat.

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