Oh, That Way Madness Lies; Let Me Shun That

I suppose I have been a little unfair to my ex-boss. I made it out to seem that I was unused to working for despotic nutjobs.


For some reason, I always get hired by crazy people. My library job and a job working at a craft store were two notable exceptions, where I worked for lovely, considerate, sane people.

No one wants to hear about those people.

The string of drug-addled and addled-addled bosses began after I graduated high school. I know I’m a good employee: I held a job for three years while in high school. I never failed to get raises and perfect reviews at my corporate grooming job.


The first job was working at PetSmart. I groomed there with a great boss, and awesome coworkers. The thing to know about groomers is that we’re all crazy. Seriously, I have not met one groomer without some sort of mental illness. I’m speaking candidly about mental illness because I am including myself with that group. Anyhow, out of the seven groomers in the shop, five used meth. Two came to work ON meth. One day I walked into the bathroom, and a coworker had a line of coke out on the counter.

“Wanna join?” She asked.

“Uh, no, I don’t do…that,” I answered. She shrugged, snorted it, and then returned to dog grooming.

Another coworker would meet random men from the internet and fuck them in the parking lot.


I thought THAT was a strange place to work.

I moved to Michigan and found out there are worse places. There, I worked for a bipolar pregnant lady. People who go off their meds have this weird idea that they are perfectly fine without them. I know, I’ve been there. This lady was a control freak. She would comb out every single dog I groomed to make sure it was perfect. When it was indeed perfect she would groan about how long it took me to groom the dog. I once got bitten in the hand by a nasty little shit of a dog whom everyone hated. I told the owner that her dog bit me, which was obvious by the puncture wounds in my hand. My boss screamed at me for about fifteen minutes after the lady left.

My boss was a money whore, you see. She would accept the most dangerous, ill-behaved animals that other grooming salons wouldn’t touch, just to make a little extra money. Great Danes with attitude problems? Check. Malamutes that randomly lung for your throat? Check. Blind, fear-biting Chihauhuas with green, rotten teeth sure to give a nasty infection? Check. Vicious, totally unpredictable cats? Check. SHE wouldn’t groom those animals, of course. She passed them off to me. The economic situation in Michigan was and is desperate, and I couldn’t afford to quit.

I could have handled those two things easily. I could have even taken her crazed, screaming fights with her husband in stride.

Easily the worst thing about working there was her fucking brat of a four year old. This kid was demonic. She would take dog leashes and string them up behind me, hoping I would trip on them (very dangerous, with sharp tools in my hands). She once cut me with a scissors on purpose. She would not listen to her mother (that I can’t fault her on), and her mom would keep up a constant scream the whole day. She would approach obviously upset or angry dogs. She would pester the nice dogs. She would squeak toys while trimming dogs’ faces, and gleefully giggle when I gasped because I nearly cut the dog’s ear off (the dog would of course look to see where the squeak was. Oh yeah, and she would try to lure dogs off the grooming table (sometimes she would outright push them) so they would choke, hanging off the grooming loops. She probably got her animal abuse ideas from her mother, whom I often witnessed punching dogs in the head, kicking and shaking them.

My boss finally had her baby, and it was eight weeks of utter bliss. She came back, though, with her four year old and her newborn in tow. What. The. Fuck. A grooming salon is no place for a child of any age, let alone a baby. I usually wore a mask while working to prevent breathing in hair and getting white lung, the grooming version of black lung, where dander and hair build up in your lungs and can eventually kill you. I also wore ear protection when the dryers were going to prevent hearing damage. Did my boss try to protect her children at all? Nope. In fact, she would ignore her screaming newborn to groom. No wonder her older child is demented, fuck!

It was hell working there those final two weeks. I had to listen to the poor baby cry, watch out for little Dahmer, and groom psychotic dogs.

Still, though, that gauntlet had not prepared me for what was next.


I started working for a rich white bitch who started her own little dog clothing boutique. Man was she a fucking cunt. Imagine a trashy, catty, fifty year old whore who lucked into a rich husband, and you’ve got her. She knew nothing about retail (often marking her items BELOW cost and declining to mark them at all) Her customers are the kind of out of touch rich motherfuckers who think nothing of dropping a thousand dollars for dog clothing, yet don’t tip their groomer. It made me sick to work there, smiling at stupid douchebags I would much rather punch in the stomach.

One day I went into the basement to get my lunch, and I noticed a five gallon bucket. I asked my boss for what she used it, and she answered, totally nonchalantly, “I pee in it.”


“I pee in it. Sometimes I like to pee in it. That isn’t so weird.”

I said, “Huh.” Meanwhile my mind was screaming “Oh my god, oh my god, what the fuck?” She had a perfectly usable bathroom upstairs, this was not a need thing. This was some sort of neurotic thing she did, pissing in the bucket.

I think I’ve established that she was a crazy bitch, right?

Here are some more little nuggets of nuts:

1. She pushed her dog around in a stroller.

2. Upon hearing I am adopted, told me she would like to adopt me as her daughter.

3. Kissed her dog on his mouth.

4. Let her dog lick out her nostrils.

5. Let her dog sit in his own chair at a 5 star restaurant we dined at in Chicago.

6. Was a totally disgusting screep who would try to massage Sean’s shoulders (he worked there as a cashier) and would make sex jokes around him.

7. Told us intimate details of her husband’s erectile disfunction.

8. Felt her dog’s penis regularly for “lumps.”

9. Claimed “vampire fleas” lived on her dog. Also, claimed my dog had given her dog fleas, though her dog had already been infested for a month prior to my dog’s birth.

10. Held her hands out for dogs to poop in them.

Do you see why I quit grooming? I would groom again ONLY if I worked for myself, or one other trusted groomer/friend. People in the pet business are wackos.


1 Response to “Oh, That Way Madness Lies; Let Me Shun That”

  1. 1 Tom Humes July 16, 2008 at 11:04 am

    Nice Site layout for your blog. I am looking forward to reading more from you.

    Tom Humes

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