Barbara was my boss at my first “real” job after college. The Executive Vice-president of Operations, she was in her late 50’s and I thought I had never met such an impressive woman. Organized, detail oriented, impeccably well-groomed and unflappable, to me she embodied the very essence of “professionalism.”
I rarely saw Barbara; I was the third-shift supervisor so my shift ended at 8 AM and she didn’t start work until 9, but one day in the winter of 1985 the morning supervisor called in sick and I agreed to cover her shift. Barbara was delighted that I was such a team player that I would work a double. On the spot she invited me to the Monday Manager’s meeting, where she sang my praises, and she announced that she and Katrina, the HR manager, would take me to lunch to say “thank you.”
“Are you free, Katrina?” she asked as an afterthought.
In retrospect, I never noticed that Katrina went pale. I never noticed that the room went dead quiet or that some of the managers were smirking, while others looked at me with frank pity. I did not know, then, that Katrina did not dare decline a luncheon invitation from Barbara. “I’m free,” said Katrina grimly.
On the way out of the meeting Nick, the IT manager, pulled me aside. “Have you eaten with Barbara before?” he asked me. When I confessed I had not he laughed out loud. “Bon appetit!” he said.
Terrence the Accounting Manager overheard this exchange. “That’s a nice tie,” he told me, looking at Nick. “While it lasts.” I started to question him but he shook his head firmly. “Pray that she doesn’t order soup,” he said obscurely, and he and Nick high-fived each other.
Wondering, I reported to Barbara’s office at 12 sharp; we went to get Katrina and Barbara drove us all to the Sea Watch, her favorite “special occasion” restaurant.
Barbara sat down and Katrina, visibly relieved, quickly seated herself at Barbara’s left side; I sat directly across from Barbara. We looked at the menu and ordered. I had a burger and fries; Katrina ordered a Caesar salad; Barbara decided on the bouillabaisse special, and Katrina, horrified, glanced at me with genuine compassion.
I soon saw a side of Barbara I had never seen: Barbara the lively and animated conversationalist: she told stories, repeated gossip and laughed loud and often. Barbara talked so much that Katrina and I could not get a word in edgewise, and in fact Barbara did not take a breath until they served her lunch. As she took her first bite I politely said, “How’s the soup?”
Barbara had a mouth full of bouillabaisse; but it did not stop her. “Superb!” she said loudly, spraying bouillabaisse liberally across the table. Shoveling in the bouillabaisse at a breakneck pace, she kept talking. Next came a funny anecdote and she laughed out loud; a piece of shrimp hit my forehead. Soon after when she told us about her ski vacation my eyeglasses took a direct hit from a bit of mussel; next came a tsunami of tomato sauce and my tie was pristine no longer.
Throughout that grisly lunch I’m not sure if Barbara actually ingested any of her meal, which soon covered the table, my burger and most of my shirt. By now my appetite was as wrecked as my burger, but mainly I was stunned that such an elegant woman had the table manners of a dingo. At one point she paused to take a breath, took a sip of water and attacked her soup with renewed gusto. “Incoming,” Katrina told me softly.Barbara never heard.
After dessert, (chocolate cream pie — don’t even ask) Barbara primly dabbed her lips with her napkin.
“Your tie is a mess,” she told me pleasantly. “You should have asked for a bib.”