The extortion hamster
I can buy my own gold stars
The annotation on my Google Doc just said “inconsistent bullets.” I looked at the slide. The bullets were identical — same color, shape, and size — and so were the bullets on every other slide. So I asked the CEO what they meant. They told me the bullets on slide 10 were bigger than the ones on slide 2. They were. Because the font was bigger. The bullets had scaled with the text, the way bullets do. This, they said, was “sloppy” and “unprofessional.”
I am so many things but sloppy and unprofessional, I am not. I’m the one who gets gold stars and thrives on praise and has, occasionally, been criticized for being so professional it can seem “cold” or “harsh” or whatever business-appropriate word is used instead of “bitchy.”
I already knew I was working for a micromanager but bullet-gate pushed me over the edge. Fortunately, I already had a fair amount of experience ceding control and not getting positive feedback since I’ve been a stepmom for over a decade — when someone tells you KFC has better mashed potatoes even though you are confident whoever is heating them up couldn’t tell a rustic mash from a pomme purée, you get a reality check quickly.
At work, the stakes can vary — sure, it’s just bullets and your self-esteem one day, but the next it’s being told the only time someone can meet is on a Sunday at 2 PM. Or that the only way a meeting can be handled is by doing a day trip to Dallas: three people, eleven hours of travel each, close to three thousand dollars, for a one-hour meeting that a tech failure forced remote anyway.
My husband’s ex ran all the same plays. We once needed a critical form signed, and she kept changing the terms: first it was adjusting custody weekends, then buying another kid a hamster to “make them feel better,” then just outright cash. Which — as I’m writing this — I realize is less “shifting standards” than extortion, but you get the gist.
Jeff’s ex loved to play these games and ultimately everyone suffered for it: holding out on agreeing to a vacation when she had no alternate plans or refusing to sign forms or make things official with the Friend of the Court. We once advanced her alimony/child support outside of the computer system as a favor and she agreed in writing to let them know and then refused to do so for so long that the state placed a hold that prevented Jeff from getting a passport (which prevented us from taking a real honeymoon). I don’t think she knew about the passport repercussions but I do think she took some pleasure in inconveniencing us.
I’ve always preferred to sit in the driver’s seat, and the constant loss of control both at work and at home wears me down. But if I’m truly honest, part of the pattern is me. I’m the one who, the second I’m dealing with a controlling person, starts auditioning for approval — still convinced there’s something I can do to finally earn my clearly deserved gold star.
I’ve turned to my own small acts of resistance. Not to change the micromanagers and narcissists and controlling people in my life — I’ve mostly accepted I can’t — but to stop competing for approval that was never coming. And today, on Bastille Day, I’m celebrating my own quiet revolution.
I can leave the bullets exactly as they were.
I can adjust my availability on work platforms so I can’t be reached outside of business hours.
I can ask about the extortion hamster often just to realize the kid didn’t even want a hamster and is now stuck with one.
Honestly, I can buy my own gold stars.
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