Everything is crab
Did you know about carcinization, aka the idea that multiple separate species have evolved to have a crab structure (tucked tail, big carapace), meaning crab may be the ultimate form, evolutionarily speaking? I saw it referred to as a meme (!) that began in 2019 (!!), and indeed, as I looked at various articles on the phenomenon, it seems the internet has been obsessed with our long slow transition into crab for some time. I’m sure I might have known about this if I had paid more attention to my favorite newsletter, Today in Tabs, which offers an irregular sub-feature they call Today in Crabs, but personally I’ve never been the biggest fan of crabs - they creep me out.
Tabs linked to this recent piece which touches on the problems with the meme-ification of carcinization, and the mistake of thinking that evolution is a process that is guided in a way similar to human choice. Evolution is a lot more random than human memes about crabs can possibly encompass, and the author is concerned with making sure that jokes about evolution don’t transition into ideas about eugenics. A fair point, and relevant to these times, but, my disdain for crabs aside, isn’t there something strangely attractive about the idea of the final form of evolution being crab? Doesn’t it send your mind to a lovely place where, instead of being a human being with worries and cares and rent or a mortgage, you could tuck your tail into your large carapace and scuttle to a nice rock formation? Don’t we all want that, instead of whatever this is?
The worst boss I ever had
Originally I was going to call this email The Worst Boss I Ever Had, because the worst boss I ever had was released from her year long suspension with pay by agreeing to a settlement with the City of Santa Barbara, and let’s talk about it. But I figure if you can’t handle me at my longing to be crab, you don’t deserve me at my reckoning.
There was a feeling last year, when news broke of the suspension of the library director and her subordinate, that there might be some kind of consequence for years of toxicity, but of course that’s not how these things are done. Litigation is expensive and damaging, and in the end, the wisdom seems to go, it’s best to put things to bed with a minimum of public exposure. This isn’t the first case of a city department head getting investigated and pushed out, and it won’t be the last. Though a law firm was dutifully contracted to investigate, and many, many, many previous employees were contacted to share our stories… Once the settlement became public knowledge and the email was sent to all staff announcing that the director would not be returning, that seemed to be it.
One of the things about speaking to the lawyers tasked with investigating the worst boss I ever had was I discovered I had so many gaps in my memory. I consulted emails and memos I had saved, prior to our interview, and I wrote down what I could remember, but there were a few times they asked a pointed question - guided, probably, from someone else’s interview or complaint - and I found something opening up in my mind, some piece of information I had locked away coming loose. Part if it was because after my first few months at Santa Barbara, my migraine disorder started to spiral wildly out of control, and after regular infusions of magnesium didn’t work, I started to take a drug called Topamax. Topamax was developed as a treatment for epilepsy and it has significant side effects. I lost the ability to taste carbonation. I dropped about thirty pounds as most food seemed unappealing. I experienced brain fog and got noticeably worse at remembering things. And still I got terrible migraines, triggered by the stress of the job, the relentless cruelty of my boss. Sometimes it was focused on me, the cruelty, but often it was focused on others. Crying has been one of my migraine triggers for a long time. After some meetings, I would lock myself in the office and cry until my brain split open.
In essence, the lawyers wanted to know: what was it? What was the problem?
Even with all the evidence, I thought the experience I had at Santa Barbara was my fault for the longest time, and that was a hard feeling to shake. I was too demanding, too emotional. I cared too much, I didn’t have what it takes to be a leader. Three weeks into the job I was asked to fire a staff member whose job performance had suffered due to child care issues; this was only the second person I had fired in my career. I had never met them before. Still, I did it, handing over the paperwork with shaking hands. And I fired many more people after that, people I liked, people I felt sympathy for, people who were kind and smart and doing their best. I wrote performance reviews that focused on weaknesses rather than strengths; I wrote disciplinary memos for people who had made minor mistakes. We kept a mirror by the office door so we could check our faces to see how red they were from crying, before we had to face the staff or the public.
When you work in the bad place, it’s the air you breathe. I certainly had people there telling me this was just the way things were. And I don’t begrudge any of that, because you do what you have to do to survive. Gaslighting has become the internet’s favorite term, but it is a real thing. There were some lodestars among my colleagues, people I was able to ask, is it just me? And they would say: it’s not just you. When you have someone you can trust who will look at you and say, this isn’t normal, this isn’t how people should be treated, that means everything. Trauma bond is another favorite internet word, and I am lucky/unlucky to have developed more than a few of those. After a while, I started really looking at where I worked. I started to think about the people from other city departments who were surprised to meet library staff, who seemed to feel bad for us. I thought a lot about the city guy who handled the phone extensions; our desks were moved so often, so randomly, he would show up to reassign numbers and shake his head, surprised to be back so soon. I would meet other city department heads, people my boss privately mocked and said were idiots, who acted generous and interested in working with the library.
After a while, I started applying elsewhere because I knew I couldn’t stay. If I had more demands on me at the time, maybe I would have just tucked into my carapace and evolved into something that could withstand the pressure. As it was, I felt horrible leaving. I felt like I was abandoning people. My exit interview was scathing, one of many I know the city HR director attended personally, and still: nothing changed. I would get the occasional text about who was leaving, who was in trouble, the latest reorganization, the latest fight. When library construction exposed staff to asbestos, I got a text, and remembered how hard I had advocated not to keep the library open during major construction, an idea that was a complete nonstarter. I waited for a day that I thought would never come, and then it did. My boss and her biggest enabler, suspended.
At one point I was asked who my boss was. I was confused by it, because although on paper my supervisor was one person, there was never any question on who signed off on everything to do with the staff, from their hiring to their evaluations to their discipline: the director. Yes, the they said, but wasn’t [this person] your boss? I said something like, “Nothing happened at the library without the director’s approval.” Everything: programs, grants, hiring shelters, signage, everything, everything ran through one person. In hindsight, thinking of the other library directors I have known, it’s lunacy. At the time, it was just what it was.
I felt sort of demoralized by the clean, bloodless ending to this saga. The underling found a new job in the midwest. The director got her payout. Her husband was all over one of the few comment sections on the issue, calling us all complaining overpaid public servants. Someone else claimed it was misogyny that got her: they can’t stand to let a girl boss succeed. One opinion article got it right, with the executive editor of the local alt weekly accounting for the cost of the settlement, the year of paid leave, the investigation, the high turnover. After all this time, it was nice for someone to put it all down on paper somewhere it can be seen, a warning sign for others.
As for me, I will also probably never work in a library again. Where’s my check?
A few recommendations
These incredible embroidery pieces from artist Melissa Calderón
I grew up near Lake Berryessa and the spillway is a hypnotic sight. Recent rains have it activated for the first time since 2019. I want to be as far from it as possible whilst also staring at it endlessly? Just me?
My friend Elon Green wrote a book called The Man Nobody Killed, the true story of a young New York artist who was killed in an act of police brutality. It’s his second book, after Last Call, an essential nonfiction book about murder in NYC. The Man Nobody Killed is next on my list just as soon as I finish this Slough House book. Yes, I’m still on that.
That’s all for now. Tell your friends you love their hair. Have a good week. You can be a crab if you want. Don’t let anything stop you from reaching your full potential. Move your feet to a reggae beat.
Love,
the nailbiter.