I once had a boss who was so mean that his personal assistant occasionally put dirt from the floor into his herbal tea.  I’m fairly sure he never found out because I sure didn’t tell him.

I know I should have warned him, but I was young and he was just so mean.   His employees needed the jobs, he knew it, and he took advantage of everyone he could.  

At the time I rationalized that he might be making up for a bad childhood or something but now I can see that I was that one rationalizing working for a jerk because I needed a job.  

The first red flag was when, during my interview for the job,  he called in other employees, males, to tell him if I “looked good enough” to work there.  I thought it was some sort of a joke because who would do something like that?  Later I found out they had to rate my appearance to him before he hired me. It was the late 1980’s and women were expected to put up with shenanigans so I just focused on getting a job I wanted and I thought my hard work would end the foolishness.  (You can laugh at my naivete.)

This was all a case of  “I should have known what I was getting myself into” but my youth and hope blinded me to what the daily experience of that place would be. 

The other people I worked with were some of the best and nicest I’ve ever met, which created a strange tension.  Slowly I began to get used to the abuse, because they all seemed okay with it too.  

The Boss once had my office door locked because I was five minutes late.  He didn’t want to hear my excuse that my neighbor had fallen down with a heart attack that morning and I stayed with him until the ambulance came.   I had to profusely apologize in order to get back into my office.  He screamed at me but I felt I needed my job.

The presence of employees was mandatory at parties he held in his home where he would show off his lavish lifestyle, and insult us by using mean nicknames “all in fun” then tell terrible off color stories.  He was the king and we were serfs in his weird kingdom.

Each morning as I began the ride up the long driveway to the office, I would hold back tears and focus on how I needed to do this to take care of my family, and it was a good job.  I thought I was being honorable for those who depended on me. At the time I never told anyone what was going on because I was embarrassed by it all.  The ends justified the means in my mind.

There began a turning point however when, during my commute I would imagine my joy on the day that I would drive out of that place for the last time.  My day would come I promised myself.  It did.

It happened suddenly when I was interviewing a camera man to film a commercial and the Boss called us in where he proceeded to tell the man I was incompetent, then he insulted the man himself, and off handedly made remarks about the man’s obvious disability, which was cerebral palsy.  

The camera man quickly left, (he had some dignity) but the experience had been my tipping point.  As the Boss’s “jokes” about the man and his disability went on, I blew up.  Finally.  I told him what I thought of his insults, name calling, and abuse.  On the way out of his office I announced that I was giving my two week notice. 

Within minutes his assistant came to my office to tell me to get out immediately, and I gladly did.  I finally made that drive down the long entrance road for the last time.  I was free, but there would be a price to pay.  

That Boss called people in my career field and encouraged them to never hire me.   He took the time to try to wreck my prospects, my reputation with lies and innuendo, and for a while it worked.  I always wondered why anyone would believe him when he had a reputation for being so cruel.  

Yet, it felt like that mean Boss didn’t have to pay for what he had done to me and many others.  In the end, much later, he did.  It took years though, and his punishment was not equal to the pain he had caused so many.  It still makes my angry.

I wish I could say it was smooth sailing after I survived the entire episode, but it was not.  As a result of it all, my family and I went through a tough time, and again I did my best to hide it even from them since it was my responsibility and doing, and they were forced to share the suffering. 

Perhaps, I was absorbing punishment for having ever allowed myself to get caught up in such a negative place.  It hadn’t been a mystery, there were red flags from the first day.  Warnings that I did not heed.  

People say that Evil comes in disguise, but no.  I have seen Evil arrive, reveal it’s lies, ill intent, and people still accept it because Evil brings false promises of an illusive reward.  

The trouble starts when the voice of Evil changes it’s tune.  Once you are there for a reward, the words change to those of shame, self destruction, guilt, and all manner of negative characterizations.  I know because I’ve been there.  You may have too.

However, my experiences have given me more compassion and open heart toward others who endure that which they cannot control.  I understand what it is like to be powerless, and I know how it feels to be hurt.  

So, with regard to people who are cozying up to Evil, are mean and insulting, take advantage and lie: hey I see them but I wouldn’t want to BE them!!

You want to know what I learned, in the end, about all of this and how I feel when I see the booming activity of internet Trolls, evil dictators, those who use others, a lack of compassion for those who are in need and cannot help themselves?  We have the right, the command, the mission to stand up and say “We do not have to live like this!!!!” We have a right to fight Evil.   

Are you good with that?  I mentioned last week at Church that ultimately you are in or you are out!  No means to an end foolishness.  No looking away from abuse and injustice.  These issues need to be addressed in a way that will change things – so your griping on Facebook or Twitter doesn’t count for a damn thing.   

If you hadn’t figured it out, I am a Christian and that’s my deal, but if you have a different deal, then you can fill in the blanks with what I am about to say.  

In my tradition, the first three chapters of the Gospel of Mark read like a freaking action movie, staring Jesus, who takes on and then crushes every manner of Evil he can reach and he does it real fast.  Point being, that stuff can change, that we can endure, that we are not alone, and we should be ready for the fight.

Looking back, I don’t know what the heck I was ever thinking by going into the world and not expecting a guy like my Boss to be under every rock.  I was vulnerable because I didn’t like to think that way, and I felt powerless – both of those things changed.  

I’m going on too long but my point is that we have to reject, and stand up to, and fight evil.  You can’t find any?  Are you out of your mind?  Look around and do something!  Don’t stand for the crap.  You are not alone.  

I have plans to follow, and protests to begin, and I see a world of options for my energy and hope.  We can’t do everything, we are meant to complete our own mission.  Getting caught up in too many things waters down your power.  But do something!  Be about something!  Don’t put up with abuse, don’t watch bullies get away with it, don’t allow those in power to abuse it, just start somewhere.

I’ve run out of energy, so I’ll take a breath.  (Serenity now.)  But look around and find your way, based on what you can do to change the way things are!  It’s really exciting.  That day of talking back to my Boss felt great!  It got me though the tough times ahead. 

You have a mission – and something in your life will point you in the right direction.  If you don’t mind my saying so:  You are on a mission from God.  Are you in or out?  (If you are out,  don’t be surprised if someone puts dirt in your tea.)  

Are YOU in or out?  

Playing outside all day in the summer, tagging home base, chasing lightening bugs at dusk, and creating a make believe world with neighborhood kids belonged to the memories of my generation, and it was fun.  Yet if you were also from that era, then you may additionally have some anxiety ridden recall of a “game” from childhood aptly entitled “Monkey in the Middle.”  If you do, and if, like me you have personally experienced the “monkey” part, then your blood just ran cold at the reminder.  

If you don’t recall it, I will explain: The experience involves one person (designated as the “monkey”) between two or more “players” who have taken an article belonging to said “monkey” such as a hat, book, toy, (and definitely the dignity) and then toss it back and forth between “players” over the “monkey’s” head, just out of reach, until the “monkey” is exhausted, perhaps angry, definitely defeated.  

The end of the game is often marked by the demand that monkey calls the magic word “Uncle.” (Why, this particular phrase is used to indicate unconditional surrender is one of the mysteries of the universe.)  The “players” then drop the tossed item in the dirt, over a hill, or they might just hand it back.  This finale of the game is what one might call the “players choice.”   Fun times.

I was a small kid, younger than others in my class, and not athletic so I had to know my way around the contest of being Monkey.  This was only made more challenging by the honed skills of the neighborhood Monkey in the Middle Champ Nicky Gasparato, due in part to his athletic ability plus the tag team power of he and his brother Larry.  (They did grow up to be nice; but I digress.)

The reason I bring up this classic childhood game is because I have been fighting with some of the same feelings and frustrations that were part of that ghastly game. It was easier when at least we had a name for it, and I knew I was “in the middle” and I understood that the rules were stacked against monkey-me. 

I was never the kid on the outside of the ring, and for that I am oddly thankful, but I accepted my trial in the game as part of life, which it was for many of us. Now, when I feel frustrated because my goals seem just out of reach, I admit I can feel more permanently beaten.  

As a kid, I knew that tomorrow was another day, and that by the evening we would be back to jump rope, or chalk coloring on the sidewalk, or I’d get friends to play my games which was their payment for winning Monkey in the Middle.  

We never gave up, or got so angry that truly mean words were spoken, and we continued to believed that it was possible, it just could happen, that one day we’d catch our book or jacket as it sailed over our head from our spot as monkey in the middle.  Gosh I need those skills again!

No, not the skills of losing the game, but the skills of never letting anything be the last word.  As kids we were unendingly creative, and more resilient than one might imagine. The experience might be horrible, but we knew that the game would change.  (And if it got out of hand there was always: “I’m gonna tell,” as a very last ditch, which meant that we were aware that we are not alone in our little world.)

Today, there is a lot of negativity flying around, but we might be best if we let that sort of thing go over our heads.  It’s important that we never give up, we just can’t!  There are still adventures, battles, and more than ever there are injustices to fight.  I love being creative, I love seeing the creative spark in people around me.  

We went through a lot as kids, some kids much more than others, and it’s a challenging time to live.  So, I’ve been dusting off my Monkey in the Middle ability to take it, as it is, as it comes, with less animosity, less anger, and certainly with a belief that there is always hope! 

We may be on different sides at times but we are in this game together.  I really mean this: I’m a Monkey in the Middle survivor, I’ve got my faith, my crew, and nothing scares me anymore.  

“…for God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline.” 2 Timothy 1:7