Capitalism blows....

At 5:00 p.m., one of the highly paid executives I provide administrative support for at a small investment bank showed up for the first time today.

Not just one of the highly paid executives, but the highly paid executive whom everyone at the bank loathes. The one who can’t communicate to save his life beyond discussing golf, rugby, or football. The one who, 6-foot-something and weighing in at 300 pounds, pesters me like a 5-year-old tugging at his mommy’s skirts.

“Brynn?...Brynn!!” If I don’t immediately drop whatever I’m in the middle of and jump! “Brynn: can you do me a favour?”

How I've come to hate that phrasing. As if I have a choice! The boring, menial tasks he demands to have done at light-speed usually require the transformation of his ungrammatical chicken scratch into a professional memo, letter or (even!) email, as this guy is pathetically computer illiterate. Couldn’t attach a document to an email and forward it if the fate of the free world and his entire bonus besides rested in the balance!

To make matters disgustingly worse, he’s slovenly in his personal habits and grooming. Clothing wrinkled and disheveled, suit-coat off, tie-loose, shirt-tails partially tucked. Not the greatest body odour or breath. Chews food with his mouth wide open.

And. The. Very. Worst. ...He sheds skin, hair and other visible bodily detritus onto his desk top.

Eeeewwww!! The very thought makes me recoil!

No One wants to be this man’s personal assistant. His previous left on sick-leave around 14 months ago and never came back. My assuming the role was to have been temporary. Ha!

In addition to C, I’m primary support for the bank’s second-in-command who, while exhibiting better grooming and not so loutish, is still no joy to work for. Both men have the habit of dumping large, time-consuming projects on me at the end of the day and expecting me to stay and finish them, no matter how long they take—and mind you, I’m salaried, no overtime. Moreover, neither knows how to show gratitude.

So all this would be distasteful enough were I well paid. Which, sadly, is not the case. I started my position on September 9, 2004, at what would be a low salary for a PA in New York (equivalent cost-of-living as Dublin, believe it or not). I accepted that, thinking I’d have to prove myself, especially as an immigrant.

Which I proceeded to do: took only two sick days in nearly two years. Arrived early or on time everyday, and stayed overtime anywhere from 5 minutes to 3 hours everyday. Expanded the role, introducing digital document handling and signatures; scanning; various computer graphics, including Flash animation; and digital photography. I mastered a new program that handles company secretarial duties, which I took over for our 13 companies, including all the electronic filing of annual reports; appointments and resignations of directors; business name-changes, and so forth. Moreover, I'm the resident MS Office expert everyone comes to when they're stumped.

How was I rewarded in my second year, a year when the bank registered record multi-million Euro profits? Well. My annual raise equaled the paltry amount C files for in expenses for one two-day business trip to London. And my bonus was the same amount they’d offered me, unproven, to sign for the first year.

In other words, they pissed on me for all my hard work.

Consequently, this evening when C waltzed in at 5:00 p.m., conversing on his cell phone and five minutes later, after I’d signed out on my computer, asked me if I could stay and draft a letter for him, I lied. Said I was meeting someone and had to leave.

I’m done busting my butt for absolutely no return, no appreciation and no greater world good.