I was surprised to get an invitation to Priscilla’s retirement party. I worked for her in the early 90’s, during a brief, unhappy stint working for local government but we’ve remained in contact over the years; I had no desire to go to her party but I wanted to see her so I asked her to lunch instead.
Priscilla was a remnant of a bygone era; an era of typewriters, carbon paper and Dictaphones. She was also a rarity: A strong, professional woman in management when local government was definitely a good-old-boys club.
Priscilla was also regarded as something of a Kingmaker — and the key to her success was what I’ve come to call “Priscilla’s Policy.” While I worked for her I had an inkling of her policy, but she only confirmed it for me years later at our lunch to celebrate her retirement after having several glasses of wine: Priscilla’s policy was to never fire anyone, now matter how lazy, stupid or incompetent they were. She promoted them instead.
“It was faster and easier than firing them,” she confided during that wine-soaked lunch. “Have you ever tried to fire a government employee? It’s impossible. And if they filed a lawsuit it could have brought me down instead.” She took an agitated sip of her wine. “And somehow every hourly wage employee had an attorney on retainer.
She paused and ordered another glass of wine. “Besides,” she said, “the people I promoted always thought well of me afterwards, and they owed me favors. It was a win-win situation.”
Looking back everything became very clear: I remembered that Zack, who was pleasant but so stupid he would have flunked the Head Start entrance exam, who got promoted to the Manager of the Contract Compliance Division, and that Carol, whose attendance record was worse than Marco Rubio’s in the Senate, got promoted to Human Resources. I remembered that Bill, who could never quite figure out how to insert a floppy disc into a computer, got promoted to the head of IT. And how could I forget Jaynie, a dangerously unstable woman with a horrible temper who got promoted to Code Enforcement?
And Priscilla’s impact was not just local. “Thanks to me there are deadbeats and incompetents at the highest level of government all over Florida and the country,” she said. “Some legacy, huh?”
She took a sip of wine and asked if I remembered a young guy who went, then, by the nickname “Chip.” I did: Chip was one of the most vicious, opportunistic backstabbers I have ever known; incidentally, he believed that the moon landing in 1969 was a staged event. “What happened to him?” I asked.
“He’s in Congress now,” said Priscilla.
“Northern Florida?” I asked, unsurprised.
“Texas,” said Priscilla, and she sighed.
I had to ask: “But if they did poorly for you, you had to know they would do just as poorly elsewhere when they were promoted?”
“Of course I knew,” she said brightly. “It was not my problem; My goal was just to get them out of my hair.”
I was silent and I guess Priscilla felt the need to justify her career. “You don’t know what it was like for a woman then. I was hired in 1965: Most of the girls then worked until they got married and had a baby. I had to make a living: Promoting the deadbeats and incompetents out of my department made me look good without making enemies. And it worked. I survived.”
I had to admit that Priscilla’s policy did make sense in a twisted sort of way but after lunch as I drove off I remembered that day in 1992 when Priscilla called me to her office.
“Good news!” she said. “Your dream job in Training and Development just opened up. You’re being promoted!”