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What I Wish I Told My Boss
A lesson learned and a mistake I’ll never make again.
I didn’t grow up Catholic, so I never knew that working for a nun could be a special kind of hell.
Believe me, it was.
In the mid-1990s, I was the alumni director for a small Catholic college founded and led by a religious order. For the purposes of this post, and my not wanting to be haunted until the end of my days, let’s call my boss the nun Sister Louella. (As in, rhymes with Cruella. As in, de Vil.)
Sister Louella was responsible for the college’s fundraising, something she excelled at and loved. This was someone who could get money from a stone. If she could have found a way to dig up corpses and force them to write a check to their alma mater, she would have personally driven a backhoe right up to their grave.
She was tough, relentless and perfectionistic. She got things done — but, like Frank Sinatra, she did it her way. People were rightfully scared of her. She thrived on making life difficult for those who weren’t her favorites. (Ask me how I know.)
Sister Louella didn’t care that you had other responsibilities outside of work, such as, maybe, a family. Oh, she could seem compassionate but that’s all it was — the ultimate sister act. Nothing came before your job and serving…
