A Good Deed Never Goes Unpunished

Long ago, I worked for a company that didn’t have an actual PMO. No, seriously, they didn’t, but that’s okay. I reported to a Director who was responsible for several divisions, including the project management and service division.

There were seven service managers and were looking for one more.

Stay out of it, I told myself. Why do you care? He’s a big boy; he can fend for himself. ‘Who?” you’re asking.

There was this middle-aged engineer, we’ll call Milton (yeah, after the Office Space guy). He was kinda’ dumpy, with thick glasses and didn’t take very good care of himself. You know… dirty glasses, greasy hair, and stained clothes. Conversely, he was a nice guy, highly religious and he loved his wife… and probably puppies too.

For some unknown reason, I felt kind of sorry for him. Maybe it’s because he seemed to have managerial potential, or possibly it was because he was just too old to be stuck as an engineer along side kids.

The director was a buddy of mine, so I suggested that he might give Milton a chance at the position. He pointed out all his flaws and added some I hadn’t thought of, including the fact that he brayed like a mule.

“Come on, everyone has their quirks,” I pointed out. “If he can’t cut it, you can always send him back to the field. He’s done good work for the company, and he deserves this chance.”

“Okay, but I’m betting you’re wrong, and within six months, he’ll be back in the field.”

“He’ll be fine, besides some of the other service managers are no prizes either.”
He laughed and promoted Milton.

He stopped by my office to tell me the good news and was on top of the world. “The company finally recognized my work! I knew they would eventually! I’m on the fast track, now!” I congratulated him, and felt rather smug that I was able to help him.

My office was right next to the Director’s office, and Milton’s new digs were directly outside my office.

Now the downside. Milton talked on the phone… a lot, and every phone call was taken or made on speaker phone. He was loud, but when the director was in, he was earsplitting, and the sound came right through my door. He was annoying, but not just to me. I started getting calls about his ‘attitude’, and his being a pompous pain-in-the ass, and that it was all my fault… Yeah, okay... but there’s no sense in placing blame, now is there?

Then one day, Milton came in to my office in an absolute panic. He told me that one of the service managers said… fuck to him.

“Okay, and…?” I asked.

“He said fuck to me a lot! He said I was a fuck-wad, that I should go fuck myself and he called me a fucking dip-shit!”

“And…?” I asked.

“He was terrible to me! What are you going to do about it?”

“What the fuck do you want me to do about it?” I asked in all sincerity.

His eyes bugged out and he left my office without another word. And it wasn’t until almost thirty minutes later that I realized my response was one of the singularly funniest things ever said. Yeah, and I still laugh about it.

Funny thing… he never came to me for sympathy again.