My boss, Harper, thought she had all the power when she told me I had to watch her kids or lose my job. But that arrogant ultimatum was the worst thing she ever did in her job and the best thing that ever occurred to me. She wanted to be in command. What she gave me was freedom and a front-row seat to see her come apart.
Let me start from the beginning.
The first step was securing a position as a marketing assistant at a medium-sized architecture firm in Austin. The crew was great, and I appreciated the possibility to grow, even though it wasn’t flashy. That is, until Harper became my supervisor six months ago.
Let me tell you how Harper looks.
She was brilliant and confident, and she walked into our building like she owned it, even though she had just transferred from a better firm in New York. Her clothes screamed, “I’m doing well.” She was so confident, and that drew others to her. She’d show up in her navy blue Audi, stroll in wearing sunglasses, and within minutes of getting to a meeting, she’d start using buzzwords like “synergy” and “personal brand.”
I have to say that I liked her at first.
She once said to me during a brainstorming session, “Naomi, you pay a lot of attention to the little things.” “That’s the kind of person I need by my side.”
It was fantastic to be seen after being unseen under prior managers.
But Harper’s charm was a mask that came off swiftly.
At first, she just said too much. Lucas, her ex-husband, was a big concern for her. They spoke and talked about how hard it was to raise their daughters, Audrey and Grace, together. There were stories about how Lucas had cheated on her with his paralegal and now wanted to see her more often.
One afternoon, when I was trying to go over campaign figures, Harper leaned on my cubicle and said, “They’re better off without him.” “He never knew what it was like to be a dad.”
During a Zoom team check-in, Audrey and Grace barged into her home office in the middle of a conversation and started fighting over who got the final cookie. Harper didn’t turn off her microphone; instead, she started a live diatribe about Lucas.
“Because of this, I can’t trust that man!” She screamed, and we all just stood there in shock, not knowing what to do.
Things only got worse after that.
She began to give me pictures of the papers she required to get a divorce. I saw everything, from the battles over who got the lakehouse to the schedules for custody.
At first, I felt bad for her. She always looked exhausted, and when she thought no one was looking, she nibbled protein bars between meetings and scratched her temples. I figured she was just stressed, so I leaned in to help.
That’s where I messed up.
Harper believed I was saying yes when I was nice.
One day, she gave me a $400 blazer and asked me to take it to the dry cleaner for her after lunch. “You do such a good job of handling more than one thing at a time.”
I thought it was just a one-time favor. Then she requested me to set up appointments for her daughters to see the dentist.
She said, “You’re really good at that online stuff.” “I swear, I still don’t know how to use Google Calendar.”
At 6 a.m., there were text messages, and at 11 p.m., there were Slack pings. “Can you redo my deck for the Tyler proposal by tomorrow morning?” Or “I totally forgot to get ready for the pitch on Monday.” “Can you write a summary tonight?”
It didn’t stop.
Whenever I talked about limits, she would congratulate me in a condescending way. “Naomi, you are my rock star!” You can trust me.
At first, I thought this would only persist for a few while. She had a lot to do. But I began to dread opening my email. One night as I was eating dinner, she sent me a long message with a deadline that was impossible to meet. She included a heart emoji at the end.
That’s when I realized I wasn’t just stressed out. I was being taken advantage of.
The next day, I decided to say something.
I went into her office, shut the door, and stated as softly as I could:
“Harper, I’m not your personal assistant; I’m your marketing assistant.” I can’t keep running your life.
She looked at me like I had told her I was going to set the building on fire.
She said, “Oh, sweetie,” with a beautiful smile. “Happy boss, happy team,” as the saying goes.
Then she leaned back and let the bomb go off.
“I’m glad you brought this up,” she said. “Because I need you to keep an eye on the girls tonight.” I have a date. Don’t bother coming in on Monday if you won’t help. It’s that simple.
“Are you really going to fire me for watching your kids?” I asked.
“I’m not threatening,” she answered in a calm voice. “I’ll give you a chance to show that you can work together.” I’ll help you if you help me.
What was Harper unaware of?
That morning, I had accepted a new job.
During my lunch breaks for the last three weeks, I had been secretly interviewing for employment. That day, I signed the deal. A better business. A better way of life. A boss who knows how to say no. Now all I had to do was wait for my notice period to end.
But what about Harper’s little threat?
I thought she deserved a conclusion.
“Of course,” I said. “I’ll be there at six.”
Harper looked as pleased as ever. “I knew you had it in you, Naomi.”
I got to her West Austin condo right on schedule that night. Audrey and Grace were already in their pajamas and only half-watching a Disney+ cartoon. They seemed like wonderful kids—polite, calm, and a little drowsy.
Harper hardly looked at them as she rushed around correcting her makeup and yelled into her Bluetooth earpiece. She gave me a list of rules for the night and pointed to the fridge.
“On the counter, there’s money for pizza.” They had to be in bed by eight. The Wi-Fi password is on the fridge. In the drawer, there are emergency contacts.
She left, leaving behind the faint smell of expensive perfume and closing the door behind her.
I waited 15 minutes to be sure she was gone. Then I took out my phone and typed the message I had been waiting to send:
“Thanks for tonight, Harper.” It helped me decide. I found a new job, and on Monday I’ll offer my two weeks’ notice. Oh, and I just wanted to let you know that I called Lucas. He’s going to pick up Grace and Audrey.
It wasn’t a joke.
She sent me a few emails by mistake, and one of them had Lucas’s number in it. Earlier that day, I had sent him a text message and told him everything. He had said he would arrive immediately away.
Lucas arrived twenty minutes later.
He looked tired, like he had to struggle for time with his kids, but he smiled when Audrey and Grace raced up to him.
He added softly, “I’ve been trying to see them more.” “But Harper makes it impossible,”
I told them, “They have the right to know their dad.”
I helped the girls get their bags ready. Before I left, I put a note on the kitchen counter that Harper couldn’t miss.
“You hired a marketing assistant, not someone to watch your kids.” You craved loyalty, yet you used it to hurt others. You needed help, but you chose to be in charge. “Ask someone else to put your pieces back together.”
Then I left and locked the door behind me.
As soon as Harper got my message, my phone was full of texts and voicemails. Some were angry, some were guilty, and some were desperate pleas.
I only heard one voicemail.
I then blocked her number.
Two weeks later, I went to my new office. A bright, open space where all the crew members got along. Alana, my new boss, smiled at me and gave me my onboarding materials.
Don’t mess with other people’s feelings. No text bombs after 11 p.m. No trips to the dry cleaner.
Just be polite and do your job.
What did I learn that was the most important?
When someone says, “Happy boss, happy team,” think about who is really happy and what you are giving up to keep them that way.
Sometimes, though, the best thing you can do is not go up the ladder.
It’s the one that’s making you tired that’s departing.
