Confession No. 84 — Unhappy at work? You decide.
I’ve been unhappy in a few jobs.
I worked in the dish room at the local Red Lobster. My hands, by the end of each shift, looked like prunes. My skin smelled like fish and cocktail sauce for days at a time … I also had a stint in construction as a go-fer. The money was good, but it was brutally hot and I was constantly sore and tired.
I stunk so badly at both jobs that — so as to not get fired — I had to quit and promise to never even think about reapplying for employment, unless it was at the competition.
I was 16.
In the almost-30 years since, I’ve loved each and every job. After all, we spend most of our lives on someone else’s clock. Why choose to be miserable? Some folks, unfortunately, cannot answer that question … and they tend to drag others down with them.
Cruella de Vil
I was in my mid-20s, working full-time in the newsroom at a Toms River, NJ radio station. I didn’t need a second job, but I wanted to dabble in the print side of things. Ocean County’s Observer, the ‘old person’ newspaper in town, hired me to work 3-4 nights a week.
Cruella had bright red hair (from a bottle). Her skin was pale and clammy, as if she were on her death bed. She was in dire need of something — a boyfriend, pack of smokes, stiff drink — and it showed in the first five minutes of knowing her.
‘I know that you won several AP awards for news reporting, but they were in broadcasting and we don’t recognize that here,’ she told me, looking over her half-glasses.
‘Why not?’ I asked. I could see blood rushing to the tiny vessels of her ghost-like skin.
‘Because,’ she said condescendingly, ‘broadcasters aren’t journalists.’
‘But, I had to gather the news and write it,’ I retorted. ‘The only difference is that I was writing for time.’ Cruella didn’t like my reply and she let it be known in a quiet angry voice.
‘You are bottom of the totem pole here. As far as we’re concerned, you’re a rookie with absolutely no experience. You either accept that, or you can go back to your little broadcasting job.’
Yep. That was my first conversation on the clock of my very first newspaper job.
May you have all the happiness and luck that life can hold … Well, except for you mean and unhappy people.
I managed to sweet-talk Cruella here and there so as to tone her down somewhat. There were a few times I attempted to get her to fire me to no avail. Though she made my life miserable and tried at every turn to remind me that I was not a writer, I felt sorry for her.
I eventually left on my own terms — to write for a much larger newspaper. I also began writing for a regional magazine and for more than 600 radio stations (and three TV networks).
Cruella, I would occasionally hear from Observer reporters, was still working the night desk. And her surliness hadn’t waned.
The crazy Arkansas Razorback teacher
Our son was in fifth grade, if memory serves me correctly. He was generally a good kid who made decent grades, but was showing signs of trouble in one particular class.
So, I emailed the teacher. And emailed her again. Then called and left a message. And finally sent Christopher in with a note for her to call me.
No response.
A couple of weeks later, working with the campus principal, we set a conference. It would be with the ‘silver team’ of teachers, as the school referred to them.
‘Good morning everyone,’ the gleeful principal said from the head of her conference table. ‘Mr. and Mrs. Holland are here because they have concerns. OK, Mr. and Mrs. Holland, can you tell us what your concerns are?’
Catherine and I sat beside one another on one side of the table, while a group of six teachers — all wearing sweatshirts from their college alma mater — faced us on the other side. It was poor planning on someone’s part to have such a setup, especially since no one donned a Texas Longhorns logo. I came out swinging.
‘My first concern is that when I email, call or write a note, I expect a response,’ I said, peering over the top of my black horn-rimmed glasses at the teacher wearing the Arkansas Razorback sweatshirt.
That teacher — the same one who ignored my attempts at communication — stood up and pointed at me.
‘I’m communicating with you now!’ she shouted. ‘I’m not going to arrange a meeting with you when the whole team can meet!’
‘I see you are defensive,’ I responded, still seated. ‘I would be defensive too if I neglected my ethical and contractual duties as a teacher. Are you always this unprofessional?’
Believe it, or not, we didn’t have a history prior to that meeting. We’d met at open house and I told her what I tell all of my children’s instructors: Call us if you need us. We’re on your side. If our child comes home with mysterious bruises, we won’t ask questions.
Apparently, we must’ve dated at some point, because she was acting toward me like all of my ex-girlfriends.
‘I’m professional!’ she shouted back, still standing. ‘Your child has disrupted my class and you need to be a parent and do something about it!’
‘Who knew?’ I responded.
My bride had had enough and stood face-to-face with crazy Arkansas Razorback teacher.
‘You are being inappropriate and unprofessional,’ Catherine said angrily. ‘You’d better back off, unless you want a battle that you can’t win!’
I won’t go into detail, but my lovely also rebuked me — right then and there — for being part of the problem. Though everyone agreed to settle down and start over, it didn’t get much better. When it was all said and done, my son became lost in the pissing match. Shame on me. Shame on that cold, angry teacher.
And shame on anyone who trudges through life unhappy — especially at work. Get rid of the fake red hair and Arkansas Razorbacks sweatshirt, for crying out loud!
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Ireland. The Emerald Isle. Home to the Blarney Stone, the Straw Boys and Bono. Not to mention, the original place to get a decent pint. The place is so popular on this side of the pond, we’ve named college football and NBA teams for the people there.
But, I don’t subscribe to the whole ‘luck o’ the Irish’ philosophy. For starters, there was the whole Great Famine thing about 150 years ago. How lucky was that? Also, my roots are German through and through. Still, one day a year, I wear my St. Patrick’s Day drinking glove as I swill hoppy nectar with my apple and barley pudding as I try to explain — through slurred words — to my (Scot-Irish) wife ‘Twas the Leprechauns that done it!’
I’m not going to go out on a limb and claim that Guinness Beef Stew is an authentic Irish thing. But, Ireland’s claim to brewing fame certainly lends a wonderful flavor during the braising process. Unlike many other recipes, I add a little celery seed for some root vegetable-style bite. — Served atop my own (skinnier) version of Colcannon, this is a combination fit for Saint Patrick himself.
Guinness Beef Stew
Guinness Beef Stew served atop Cauliflower Colcannon w/ Garlic Scapes. A meal fit for Saint Patrick himself.
2 lbs – Chuck roast, trimmed of fat and cut into 2-inch cubes
Freshly ground Black Pepper
2 TB – All-purpose flour
2 TB – Vegetable oil
3 – Large Shallots, chopped
2 – Garlic cloves, minced
2 TB – Tomato paste
3 cups – Beef stock
12 oz. (bottle) – Guinness Extra Stout
2 cups – Fresh mushrooms, whole
4 – Medium Carrots, sliced about 1/2-inch thick
1/2 tsp – Celery seed
2 tsp – Dried Thyme
2 tsp – Worcestershire sauce
Kosher salt, to taste
Preheat oven to 350ºF.
Season cubed chuck roast liberally with black pepper. Coat with flour. (I use a large plastic bag.) In a large skillet or roasting pan, heat vegetable oil over medium-high heat. Add meat. Sear, stirring regularly, to brown all sides.
Add shallots and garlic. Combine with meat. Add beef stock and beer, stirring to loosen any bits on the bottom of the pan. Add mushrooms, carrots, celery seed, Thyme and Worcestershire sauce. Stir to combine.
If preparing in a skillet, transfer mixture to a large casserole and cover — leaving a small part of the vessel uncovered (to help liquid reduce). Otherwise, prop lid on roasting pan, leaving some open space.
Bake for about 3 hours, stirring about once per hour. Sauce should be reduced and thickened. Season with Kosher salt to taste. Serve over smashed potatoes or Colcannon.
Colcannon w/ Cauliflower and Garlic Scapes
1 head – Cauliflower, cut into bite-sized pieces
5-6 – Small White or Gold Potatoes, peeled and diced
1/2 head – Green cabbage, shredded
1 – Shallot, sliced thinly
2 tsp – Garlic scapes (stems), chopped finely (substitute finely chopped green onion tops)
1 TB – Vegetable oil
3-4 pats – Butter
Kosher salt & freshly ground Black Pepper
In salted water, boil cauliflower until tender, about 10-12 minutes. Drain completely. Run through a food mill or ricer into a large bowl.
In separate pan, boil potatoes until tender, about 10 minutes. Drain. Using a potato masher or fork, smash the boiled potatoes. Add to bowl with riced cauliflower.
In a skillet, fry cabbage and shallot until tender, about 7-8 minutes. Add to potatoes and cauliflower. Combine. Add butter. Combine.
Season with Kosher salt and black pepper to taste.
Makes about two quarts — plenty for leftovers.
My mouth is watering. And my blood pressure is boiling. The newspaper boss was a bitch. But that teacher had no business being a teacher.
The newspaper boss was beyond bitch. But, at least I got some blogging material out of the deal.
I appreciate your kind words.
You’ve also blogged about your wife a few times. I’m loving the sound of her. And I’ve tried and loved some of your recipes. Two recent favourites are the tilapia and the shrimp with garlic and lemon. Both de-lish. Thanks. I am definitely going to try this stew.
Thank you, Fransi! My wife is definitely the better half of our relationship. Not only does she keep me in line, she is really good at keeping me out of the line of fire! I only wish she liked hot & spicy dishes.
Thanks again!
So funny…I just ate my freshly made Guinness stew, and then read this post. I served mine with Boxti, rather than Colcannon….my husband gritched all day about how I could put anything as foul as Guinness in food, and then he ate two bowls when it was finally ready.
Gritched? I had to look this up! Outstanding word! Thank you for debuting here in these pages.
We were spoiled with the Mary Poppins of kindergarten teachers and had a quick reality check when I ended up calling for a parent/teacher conference after the first two months of first grade. As you know, my concerns were justified when the teacher left last month so she could be a full-time mommy. Rassin frass.
Ok, back on topic. Wives are there to ground their husbands.
I’ve never had colcanon (and I’m not even going to scroll back up to see if I spelled it right), but it looks and sounds fantastic and that it goes perfectly with that stew. I love stew. Really, very much so.
I just love substitute teachers. Especially the long-term ones. They are so good for our children. :-/
Adam – totally making this next Sunday…thinking of serving the stew with smashed red potatoes – great alternative to Corned Beef!
Thanks, Cyndi! May the sun rise to meet you, and so on and so forth! Be sure to enjoy a pint, or six!
Cruella just needed a hug, a bear hug, an anaconda type one or a human hug, you decide.
Razorback, well, she just lets the side down for all the other ones who do their job well without fuss. To arrange a meeting for so many people instead of an email, maybe she is technology challenged and is embarrassed to admit she lost her email password. The world is full of Cruella and Razorbacks. We can try to reduce our time with them or smile and walk backwards slowly and then run away to safety, far far away. 
Stew looks delicious by the way.
Excellent points indeed. I’m glad you stopped by!
Love a good Guinness strew. Actually any stew with a good hit of booze… Or even just the booze…
How much booze did you have before you came here? Be honest.
too early in the morn over here… or is it??
It’s 10 a.m. somewhere. Bottoms up!
I’m not as bad as those people but I’m having a major crisis regarding what I want to do with my career. At least I have the self awareness to recognize that I’m unhappy. Cruella and Nasty Teacher McScreamerson sound out of their minds. I need to make a decision before I end up with a horrific nickname. Love guinness stew and I’ve always wanted to make it. I’ll try your recipe…or just have a beer.
Why not do both (have a beer and make the stew), counselor? I’m in my 40s and I still don’t know what I want to do when I grow up. It’s all good.
Oh, dear, tell me about it. There is nothing worse than working at a job you hate (and having to stick with it because there’s no other choice). I used to work wih a boss who has hair like Krusty the Clown and the class to match! She was rude to every other female in the workplace except this one young guy – for him, she actually brought homemade cookies and cakes. I knew the day has come when she wouldn’t allow me to use the washroom – because I had only came in to work for an hour and a half and it wasn’t “long enough yet”. Good grief!
Scrumptious recipe as always!
She sounds like a real joy to work for. Did you ever consider just wetting your pants in her office and then asking ‘Now has it been long enough, Krusty?’
Astonishing how miserable some people can be! I have had a few Cruelas in my time…my spine gets all creepy-crawly even thinking about it. And the teacher, well, that is just the limit! Wonderful rant and gorgeous recipe!
Thanks, Natalia! I hope all is well.
For a while in the 70′s-80′s I worked 6 hours in the evenings as a custodian at a junior high school in North Little Rock. The teachers would leave us dishes full of rotting lunch leftovers with cigarettes stubbed out in them in the teacher’s lounge to clean up. Every couple of months we’d clean out their refrigerator and divvy up the expensive Tupperware, saying that we’d just thrown it away because the food in it was so nasty. If ever we happened to cross paths with a teacher in the evenings, she would look right through us as if we were ghosts. “Janitors=nonentities,” you could almost hear her mutter. One night a couple of the teachers had stayed over for a parent-teacher conference and I overheard them talking about a student, that they could see why the kid was so bad after meeting the parents. I hated those snotty, nose-up-in-the-air bitches. But the worst thing is, the records those bitches keep of their poor unfortunate students follow the kids through life and career.
Unfortunately, there are people out there like this. And it’s too bad.
I didn’t like my last “professional” job anymore, so I quit. No matter your response to the old Cruela, hers was always “that’s just an excuse”.
Mr. Mike and I are both Irish, so lifting a pint or two on St. Pat’s is a must. I will try your Guinness stew recipe. I like that it uses the entire bottle; why piddle around with less? My Irish grandma disliked corned beef, because she said that is what they did to meat that “was on the turn”.
I think your grandma might have been correct. I used to really enjoy corned beef, but not so much anymore. I guess my taste buds have changed. — Any time someone tells me ‘that’s just an excuse,’ I respond ‘no, it’s a reason — and there’s a difference.’ Not that it has gotten me anywhere…
Ah ol’ Cruella and Ms. Razorback such lovely people. I figure it can’t be easy going through life with a permanent wedgie. I had my own Miss Nichols who almost made me a 2nd grade dropout.
But that stew would certainly have to win them over…ok maybe not them, and I wouldn’t waste any energy making it for them but I surely appreciate a good stew. That colcannon sounds really good – did you just make that name up yourself?
I wish I’d come up with Colcannon. It’s a traditional Irish dish usually made with kale or cabbage (I choose cabbage). It’s basically like ‘bubble & squeak’ without the ‘squeak.’ — I wanted to lower the starch content somewhat and keep the flavor, so I replaced half of the potatoes with cauliflower. Because of the cabbage in the dish, the cauliflower flavor is easily disguised. — As for the garlic scapes (this is funny and embarrassing), I’ve been throwing old veggies in the empty bed outside of my kitchen door for the past 6 months for compost (I’m planting a rose there in the next few weeks). Anyway, several old garlic bulbs rooted and started taking off. Since the scapes are mild and plentiful, I used them in this version. (I might not go back to green onions after this.)
I had some great tomatoes come out of a compost pile one year & have never been able to carefully nurture any that could beat them. Planting roses…in the next few weeks? I think we need to lose about a foot of snow before I can do anything like that.
It’s almost time for roses, even in your neck of the woods. Well, 4-6 weeks. Keep your eye on the light at the end of that tunnel!
To think, neither of them ever will get to taste your beautiful stew.
Shame on them both.
Best,
Conor
Connor – If I get your approval on this stew, I’m good to go. I hope all is well.
Top form at present. It is bitterly cold here and I am in bed, writing my St. Patrick’s Day post. I will get it out on Thursday, hopefully.
Keep up the excellent work. I always enjoy your writing.
Conor
Great blog! And the recipe sounds amazing!! I think nice just found my st. Party’s day meal! And I’m Irish!! I’ll let you know how it turns out
Thank you, Jennifer! I’m looking forward to your review.
Holy Hannah, that stew looks amazing! And I don’t even like Guinness, but I’d be willing to give it another try just on your photos alone.
I too, work a job I dislike. Due to it being the internets and all, I won’t say much more than I have a bully for one of my bosses. When she’s in a good mood, she’s fine, but if she’s irked about something, watch out! Right now, I’m just trying to stick it out until my son starts school & I don’t need our in-house daycare any longer.
Bullies are the worst. She’ll get hers. — I’m not a Guinness Stout fan either (I’m more fond of India Pale Ales), but it works like a dream in this recipe. Give it a try and I’ll bet you’ll see Guinness in a new light.
When I read how Arkansas Razorback teacher stood up and yelled at you, my first thought was, “Oh no she didn’t!”
I also thought you wrote, “We’d met at an Opera House” instead of “Open House.”
The only opera house I’ve ever been to was being used for a Broadway production, which is almost too much singing for me.
Oh my, I can’t believe that Cruella de Vil chick is a real person! People like her need a good slap upside the head. I think we all encounter at least one bad job at some point. But that makes finding the right ones even better! I am digging the Colcannon w/ Cauliflower and Garlic Scapes. Cauliflower & potatoes? Can’t go wrong!
Every time I see your moniker — from here on — I will think of eggplant parmesan sticks. Life changing.
Dang, I’d been throwin’ a hissy fit (that’s Southern), too! No excuses for unprofessionalism…you got some good spit fire (pronounced ‘far’) in ya, baby boy! Love it!
I was a smarty pants, for sure. But I fought my urge to stand. lol
Adam, You make me laugh until I cry. Great Post. Mysterious bruises……I love the way to make a situation that would cause most people to become bitter and look at the funny side of it and it is all funny!
Thank you, Chef Connie. I get strange looks from some teachers when I tell them that. And I usually just stare at them. I’m sure many of them have gone home to tell spouses that a crazy man has a child in the school — which makes it all that much more fun.
Yes. Somehow I cannot see you getting strange looks….
Oh, I get strange looks. Trust me.