Stall Kickers & Monopoly Sets

From the time I was born, my dad owned and operated his own businesses. Some of them were very successful, and some of them were not so (like his foray into the restaurant industry). My brother is the oldest - 9 years older than I am. There is a sister in the middle of us, rounding out our family of 5.

My brother met his best friend in Kindergarten and they remained friends as they grew up. My brother went to work for my dad when he was 11. As they entered high school, they were thinking about jobs and careers, and of course, colleges.

My brother's best friend was thinking of attending GMI since his dad worked for GM. His other friend was thinking of going to another area school and then taking a job at Ford, where his father was an engineer. The boys were about 16 or 17, making me the 8 year old tag-along. As my brother continued to work for my dad, I remember hearing my dad encourage the other boys to consider starting their own businesses instead of going to work for a large corporation.

"You don't want to be stall-kickers, boys", my dad would caution them. Puzzled by the phrase, John, Eric & Chris wanted to know what it meant. My dad went on to explain that a lot of times, employees tend to be a lot like race horses living in a stall. Safe in the comfort of their stall, the horses are content, and every once in a while, they get restless, have an original thought, and kick the stall. The owner, ready to take the horse to a race or just a few laps around the track leads the horse out, does a few laps around the track, and then the horse goes back into the stall. Once again completely subject to the whims of the owner.

The boys seemed a little unimpressed by the analogy, Chris went to GMI and went to work for GM. Eric went to UM and started working at Ford. John stayed with my dad and runs his company to this day. In the meantime, I grew up, left the family business at 18 and decided I was going to start my own career, on my terms. I always knew I wanted to own my own business, but the specifics were fuzzy. I worked for several years and continue to work as a glorified "stall kicker" and my dad kept pushing me towards the life of an entrepreneur. "Stac - you have to own your own Monopoly set. You need to make your money work for you." I heard this over and over again, always sensing that at some point, I would own my own Monopoly set and retire from stall kicking. I just had no idea when or where or how.

4 years ago, I took a job after the person who hired me called me "a colossal pain in the ass." That's a direct quote. 4 years later, my boss has become a trusted mentor, and what I like to refer to as, "my practice husband". Though our relationship has never REMOTELY resembled anything romantic, I know him as well as I could expect to know anyone, I spend more time with him than with anyone else, and, in a way, he is my longest-lasting "relationship". The dynamic between us is apparently quite unusual, and it mystifies almost everyone who watches us interact. A combination of good cop/bad cop (guess which one I am...), we work well together and I have the utmost respect for him. He's one of the best people I've ever known and I think the world of him as a person and as an employer.

Similar to a married couple, there are the occasional fights about family. His family owns a business which they all operate together. Without saying anything more, I will simply say that they are not people I'd like to spend the holidays with, and the feeling is mutual. His father has fired me 4 times, which is always followed by my boss "un-firing" me. There are knockdown, drag-out fights, tantrums, manipulations, deceptions, double-crosses, and generally some of the most sick, abusive and destructive behaviors and maneuvers known to man.

In general, they hate me, and, I hate them. My boss and I continue to work together, committed to building a business to be proud of. For 4 years, my family and friends have endured the endless stories about the soap opera I call a career. From my parents to my therapist, I have been counseled to quit - to run, not walk, out of there as if the goddamm place is on fire. Whether it is stupidity or stubbornness, I have chosen to stay and attempt to finish what I started.

To my father's horror, I've remained in this impossible situation for years on end with his constant admonishing to grab a hold of my own Monopoly set and get the hell out of there. Since I believed in what I was doing, was proud of what I had built, and way too stubborn to walk away until I was finished with the project, I resolved to remain in their employ, attacks, insults and abuse be damned.

And then, I returned home from the first vacation I'd taken since 2004 (and it was only a long weekend) to a voicemail from my boss's father firing me. Yes, he fired me over the phone. This was a step up, though. Two years ago, he tried to get my co-worker (an equal)to fire me. I had only been in my office for about four minutes before my phone rang. It was my boss, calling to warn me. Frantically, he told me that if his dad called, I should not answer the phone. He further went on to tell me that if his dad left a message I "should delete it right away" and not even listen to the message.

Then, I was instructed not to leave my office so as not to run into his dad in the hallway. Essentially, I was told to stay in my stall, and wait for someone to bring me a snack because it just wasn't safe for me to venture out of my stall on my own. What he didn't tell me was that his dad was calling to fire me. He couldn't bring himself to say it out loud. He just hoped that I would do what he said and not listen to the message. Unfortunately for him, I did.

Not only did I listen to the message, I listened to it twice. Then, I called my boss and screamed into the phone, "WHAT THE FUCK?????!!!!!!!!!!! Do you know what his message said???!"
My boss said, "You were supposed to delete it!" He went on to say that there was "no need to worry" and that "Everything was fine" and I was "un-fired".

Furious, I screamed into the phone, "I don't give a shit if I'm not fired! Maybe, just MAYBE I don't want to FUCKING WORK HERE ANYMORE! Did you ever think of that??? Did you ever consider that I might just be completely fucking SICK of your crazy fucking family and that I might LOVE TO BE FUCKING FIRED???!!!!"

It was at that point, the moment of profound disappointment that I had been given my job back, that I decided that this was horse shit and I needed a Monopoly set. And soon.