Dodging a Potential Bad Boss On The Outskirts of Tampa
Why you should read in close on these situations.
The first red flag was his bumper sticker, which loudly pronounced, “Keep Christ in Christmas!”
I always get weary of people who wear their politics on their sleeve — especially at the office.
I’d just arrived for my in-person interview. I pulled into an industrial parking lot on the outskirts of Tampa. The estate was surprisingly busy, with cars and trucks coming and going through the huge security gate.
The company did government contracting, installing motherboards on military weapons and equipment. They needed someone to help with budget management. Though I had no military experience, outside of growing up on Navy bases, I did know a ton about finance and cost management.
The facility was both grand and super creepy, with towering fences, surveillance cameras glaring at you from every corner, and stern guards patrolling the perimeter. The whole place felt like a fortress — built to keep secrets in and everything else out.
“This isn’t your typical office job,” I thought. I parked my car and glanced in my rearview mirror, checking my shirt and face.
“Well, do you still have it?” I thought, wondering if my mojo was still intact.
The Florida humidity instantly jumped on me as I got out of the car and walked towards the entrance. The building was nondescript, with a plain gray structure. It had no signs, logos, or flare of any distinction. The only indication I was in the right place was a bronze plaque by the door that proclaimed, “Corporate Offices.”
The lobby was cold and clinical. It had pure white walls and a sterile, hospital feeling. A young receptionist glanced up, gave a forced smile, and asked me to sign in. I sat down and looked at the stack of magazines on the table in front of me. They were outdated, with faded covers, curling at the edges.
A few people came and went, walking briskly, while wearing dull gray suits. Their faces were expressionless as they ushered through corridors. “This place feels more like a factory, than an office,” I thought, with great concern.
Minutes later, a man in his late forties emerged from one of the hallways and called my name.
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