Welcome Party for Dave (Part II)

That was just one example of how Bob bogged us down. Marek, Nick and I were pretty good at dealing with Bob and his craziness. (I suspect, because he was a little bit afraid of Nick who was able to match Bob’s crazy-aloof look with a crazy-axe murderer look). But Ben and the programming team (which, at that time, consisted of only Ben) was really hurting. You see, Bob fancied himself a programmer, and whenever anyone (usually Nick) made a comment about his minuscule contributions to the group’s projects, he would respond by breaking some perfectly functioning piece of code (usually by trying to edit it in Microsoft Word), which created a ton of additional work for Ben.

And so we found ourselves in a unique predicament. This was the first time that SITG was not able to get things done. We were missing deadlines, letting clients down, really struggling. Ben was really losing it. At wit’s end, he approached Bob and demanded that he hire another programmer to help him with the massive amounts of work. Miraculously, Bob agreed. I think that he was excited by the prospect of hiring somebody. He did all the paperwork and managed to get a posting for a junior level programmer up on all the major job sites.

We were immediately flooded with applications, and Bob began to schedule interviews around his busy social schedule. The first dozen people that he brought in seemed like talented programmers, but Bob dismissed them all based on his impression that they “wouldn’t fit in with the group.” This, of course, meant that they were hip and groovy people who would fit in very well with our team, and would need only a few days to see Bob’s apparent douchebaggery. Next followed a string of possibly competent individuals – their resumes seemed alright, and their work experience was acceptable. Unfortunately, they spoke no English at all. One fellow from Bangladesh made an especially positive impression on Bob, probably because he realized that this guy would never talk back during meetings (because he couldn’t). Bob was ready to hire him, but it turned out that his work visa was about to expire, and Bob couldn’t be bothered to push the paperwork through HR. Then he interviewed a clever woman with a ton of work experience, excellent references, and obvious programming talent. I was excited by the prospect of having another female at the office. Ben was excited by the prospect of having somebody help with all the work. The interview lasted for approximately fifteen minutes, before the woman grabbed her bag, and ran out of the office, mumbling something that sounded a little like a combination between a string of obscenities and a plea for the help of some divinity. We didn’t bother to ask what happened, but Bob summed it up for us right away. “She was hot,” he said with a creepy grin.

And then I had an idea. I called my friend Dave, who was happily employed as a programmer at an unscrupulous investment bank. Dave and I had been friends since high school. We roomed together in college, and see each other pretty frequently. I always felt that Dave was a good person. So I am not sure what exactly compelled me to ruin his life by convincing him to work at SITG. Absorbed in my own delusions, I tell myself that I was just trying to help out Ben by getting somebody competent to assist with the work. But in my darkest moments, I admit that this was a clear case of misery looking for some company. So, I suppose that if there is a hell, and if I do end up there, this will be the primary reason.

When I talked to Dave about the job, I mentioned our relaxed work environment, our tuition benefits, and the satisfaction of working for an organization that doesn’t exploit children and torture puppies, (which I recalled, from my Wall Street days, to be the daily routine at a financial corporation). I knew that Dave was a spiritual sort of person, and I waxed poetic about karma and doing the right thing. I said nothing about Bob. It worked, because Dave submitted his resume the same day. The following week he came in for an interview, did remarkably well, and managed to impress both Ben and Bob. That very same day he accepted Bob’s offer, and agreed to start in two weeks.

Hiring Dave was the one thing that Bob did right. I was surprised. We all were.

Dave’s first day was nerve wrecking for me. Did I just foolishly ruin a great friendship? How much will he hate me when he finds out what it’s really like to work with Bob? I greeted Dave at the door with a bag of home-made cookies (positively made in somebody’s home, somewhere) as if that would somehow make up for the misery that would ensue.

Our first staff meeting was excruciating for me, and eye opening for Dave. Bob did his usual crazy shtick. He told Dave and Ben that PHP (the language that all our applications were written in) was a dying language, and since they were too slovenly to learn Java, it was a good idea to start programming in C#.

“What the hell is wrong with that guy?” Dave asked without even a hint of humor.
“Oh you know, he is weird.” I desperately wanted to change the subject. “How’s your mom?”
“You didn’t tell me the manager was an idiot.”
“Yep.” It was time to fess up.
“You convinced me to work here, and you knew that this guy was nuts!”
“He is hardly ever here. And the rest of the team is great.” That, at least, was the truth.

As Dave learned more and more about Bob, from other staff and from personal experience, our relationship became increasingly strained. I was overwhelmed with remorse, even though Dave didn’t do anything in particular to guilt me into despair.

Surprisingly, Bob took an immediate liking to Dave. He felt that he found a kindred spirit, somebody with whom he could commiserate about how backwater University IT was compared to the high-profile, high-cost, high-efficiency world of for-profit corporations. And even though Dave took every opportunity to avoid a conversation with Bob, Bob felt that Dave reciprocated his happy feelings of comradery.

“We need to do something nice for Dave,” Bob told me one afternoon.
“Let’s give him a raise,” I suggested.
“Why not let him work from home once in a while,” Nick jumped in.
“No, no, no. We need to throw a welcome party for him,” Bob decided. “We need to introduce him to the clients and the rest of the university community.”

This wasn’t a terrible idea. Office parties were usually great, and even with Bob around, we could still have some fun.

“Anna and Nick are in charge of planning,” he said to no one in particular.
“Planning what?” I was confused. “We’ll just pick up some beer and order a few pizzas.”
“That’s what we always do,” Nick agreed.
“No! What sort of image will that present? We need to throw a classy party, otherwise everyone will think we are a bunch of slobs.” The little wheels in Bob’s little brain were turning. “I am thinking wine and cheese.”
“Shouldn’t we ask Dave what he wants?” Ah, Nick, the perpetual voice of reason.
“No, it’s going to be a surprise. I’ll work on the guest list,” Bob said with girlish giddiness. So much for reason.

The party was to be held on Friday afternoon, in our shabby little office. Bob never told us how many people were invited, but we assumed the usual list of characters from the various administrative departments that we work with. As per Bob’s instructions, we picked up a couple of cases of wine, and two giant cheese platters. Bob saw the goods, and complained that it wasn’t nearly enough food.

“Want to order some pizza?” Nick really liked pizza.
“No! Just go get more cheese,” Bob barked with scorn.

So we went out again and got two more giant cheese platters. This was enough cheese to feed a small village, but Bob still seemed unsatisfied.

“It’ll have to do,” he said. “Hopefully we’ll have enough cheese for everyone.”
“How many people did you invite?”
“About 50. Maybe 60.”
“What?” We were shocked. I was pretty sure that cramming more than 20 people into our tiny office was a serious fire code violation.

As was expected, Bob was so proud of himself for thinking of the party, that he couldn’t keep it a secret for a whole week. So, Dave arrived that morning wearing his best button down, eager and excited to meet his clients and colleagues.

Promptly at noon, hordes of people from various administrative departments that SITG has absolutely nothing to do with, began showing up at our office. They descended on the cheese platters in hungry swarms, and soon most the cheese was depleted. Bob greeted these strangers with firm handshakes and winks of familiarity.

Bob’s guest list was noticeably female heavy. What was strange was that so many women had the same name. As I fulfilled my obligatory requirement for small talk, I met four Anabelle’s, five Bethany’s, and three Christina’s. It was too much of a coincidence, so I asked Bob about it.

“Where did you find all these people?”
“I just did a directory search,” he admitted somewhat sheepishly.
“So you just searched for women’s names and invited whoever you could find?”
“Well, I only got up to the D’s.” That would explain why I didn’t meet any Elizabeth’s.

This party was obviously about Bob, and not at all about Dave. Dave’s name wasn’t even mentioned, as Bob continued to schmooze with different professors and administrators who were just as confused by their presence in our office as we were. An hour passed in this manner, and I was yet to see a familiar face. Dave was obviously forlorn as he realized that there wouldn’t be any welcome for him, nor anything in the way of an introduction. I saw him chatting quietly with Nick in the far corner of the office, a safe distance from the cheese platters. I made my way over.

“Yep,” said Dave.
“Yep,” said Nick.
“Yep,” I sighed in equal resignation.
“How long do you think this party will go on for?” Dave asked.
“Not sure. Want to leave?” I suggested.
“I couldn’t get to any of the cheese,” Dave said. “Want to go get some pizza?”
“Yes!” Nick was pleased.

We looked around for our other team members, but couldn’t see anybody. So the three of us left, unnoticed by Bob or the strangers around us, and shared a large pepperoni pie at the local pizzeria. And when Nick ordered the second round of beer, our temperament changed from frustration and dismay to anger and shock. Anger at Bob, for being so inconsiderate, obnoxious, and incapable. And shock, that we have let it all go on for this long.

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