The Boss from Hell, Pud’s predecessor, had destroyed all affection, commitment, interest we had in the Company.
We had reached the stage in which no one cared what happened. If the company went out of business, if it was sued, who cared? Our salaries were ‘gifts’ for we did little work, we took the pay envelopes of people who had quit up to seven years ago, we invented ‘Private Contractors’ who were paid; the rip offs we’d completed made us rich.
The only reason we were still there is that we were under contract and couldn’t quit.
The sad part is that we had gone from loving to hating our jobs. We had migrated from dedication to demotivation.
During the reign of the Boss from Hell, Mr. Dic Tator, (as we called him) we would arrive on time, leave on time. We took our full lunch breaks off the building. We ignored everything. Things that could have been quickly corrected were left to disintegrate.
If we saw a faulty switch, a failing component, we pretended we didn’t. If we saw a supply was dwindling, we’d take what remained. Dic Tator would go insane, curse and insult everyone for letting the supplies run out, causing work to stop.
His diatribe could continue for forty minutes, maybe longer, meaning, absolutely nothing at all would be done except the production of noise from the BfH.