The Worst Boss in the World

In the raging fire of Dafydd's mind was a tiny, icy voice. Some would call it conscience. Some might say it was the last bit of Dafydd that remained amidst the ambition and drive and arrogance and determination. Whatever it was, it bothered Dafydd. It reminded him that what he was doing was often wrong and frequently cruel. The slide into this pit of business-like ruthlessness had happened so gradually that Dafydd hadn't even noticed as it buried him. Then one day through the roaring of ambition he heard a clear voice wondering, quite idly, whether he was entirely sane. The voice continued to taunt him, torture him. It told him what a terrible person he was. It thought about how the people he treated so shabbily felt. Then it told Dafydd about it. And, worst of all, it reminded him that, in the great scheme of things, he wasn't all that important. But Dafydd felt important. As his staff scurried about him fearfully and his colleagues treated him coldly and he mistook it all for respect he felt big. And he craved the feeling. It was more potent than any drug. The little voice couldn't be silenced but it could be mollified with promises of change and assurances of remorse. The voice was told that all of this was a means to an end. Dafydd wouldn't have admitted, even to his own conscience, that the end was the feeling of control over other people and the means was so often cruelty. Others said he had a drive to succeed, an ambition, a dedication to his work. Those who knew him better said he was an evil-minded dictator. Dafydd himself merely went from day to day taking each opportunity to elevate himself, usually by putting somebody else down. The point had been reached where the sane voice in Dafydd's head either had to be drowned out completely or be heeded. It was dwindling to a faint glow in the night and it was either the first light of dawn or the final dregs of dusk. In a fictional world the day would have been saved by a short succession of scolding spirits. But Dafydd was unfortunate enough to live in the real world. And who would save him from himself? He had no close friends, at least not any who weren't already far beyond redemption. His work colleagues and staff were hardly going to broach the subject. Dafydd had a nasty temper and a tendency to stick a knife in and keep twisting long after most would have forgiven, forgotten and got on with their lives. Dafydd's redemption did come but it came from an unlikely source.

Dafydd loved doing job interviews. It gave him a thrill to see people squirming with nerves and both of them knowing that he had the power to change or destroy their lives. He used to interview as part of a board, partly because the interviewees found that more intimidating. But Dafydd hadn't liked the looks he got from the other members of the board when he asked impossible questions or made scathing comments. So now he always interviewed alone because then he could be as terrible as he liked. He was having a good day, he'd already done three interviews and he suspected that for each of the interviewees it was the worst interview they'd ever had. The next applicant was intriguing. It was a man named Michael Wolfe and he had once held a position not unlike Dafydd's then Wolfe's career had seemed to take a downswing. The position he was applying for under Dafydd was not well paid and it would involve so much donkey work. Dafydd wanted to find out what had happened in Wolfe's life and he also wanted to crow and strut a little. Remind the man what he'd given up. Dafydd called Wolfe into his office and watched as his secretary offered Wolfe a drink. Wolfe's manner was not that of a man who'd lost everything. He was relaxed and self-assured and smiled kindly at Dafydd's secretary as he declined a drink. Wolfe seemed to be quite happy with his life, content with his lot. Well, Dafydd would soon change that. He began the interview, being immediately tyrannical. Wolfe replied to the questions evenly and calmly, with no more than a slight frown. This lack of response spurred Dafydd on even more. Something about Wolfe made him uncomfortable, how could a man who had lost so much power be this at ease?
"So, Mr Wolfe, what happened to your career?" Dafydd asked, with a sneer.
"My career?" Wolfe asked.
"You were once quite successful." Dafydd said, "Now, you do silly little jobs." Wolfe smiled and frowned at the same time.
"Yes, Mr Newgate." He agreed, "But my life is better and I am better."
"Better?" Dafydd spat, "But your career has failed!" Wolfe raised his eyebrows, it was the most response Dafydd had got for the entire interview. He was about to pile insult on to scathing comment when Wolfe leaned forward and smiled.
"I used to be just like you." Wolfe said.
"What?" Dafydd said, interrupted in mid taunt.
"You wonder why I am happy, I can see that." Wolfe continued, "But what I wonder is whether you are truly happy?"
"Of course I am." Dafydd snapped, "I'm very successful." Wolfe nodded thoughtfully.
"Yes, but look around you, Mister Newgate, and see how much of life you are missing. You are missing friends and family, you are missing laughter and long walks on summer evenings, you are missing life itself, Mister Newgate." Dafydd tried not to listen, he tried not to care but Wolfe was saying all the wrong things. Or perhaps he was saying all the right things, "I've been where you are," Wolfe continued, "and now I earn less money, yes, my job is not high powered but I have friends now who care about the little things that happen to me which has turned out to be much more important than people who care about the big things. It's easy to care about big things, it's not so easy to care about whether somebody's shampoo is making their hair smell a bit funny. But my friends care about that. They care about my life because I have one now. What's more important I'm getting to like myself. Do you like yourself, Mister Newgate? If you're really honest? Would you at five years old like you now? Does the little voice in your head like you?" Wolfe finished his speech and watched Dafydd carefully. Dafydd's mind whirled, he felt like his world was shattering around his ears only to find that beyond the glass walls was a bright shining world that had only been glimpsed vaguely before. A world beyond the gloomy loneliness of such a life as this. This man he barely knew had saved Dafydd from becoming somebody who wasn't Dafydd any longer. What could Dafydd say to thank him? There was only one thing that came into his splintering mind,
"You've got the job."