Grin and Bear It: How to Be Happy No Matter What Reality Throws Your Way (7 page)

I hate to brag but it’s no secret I was a champion at putting my focus in all the wrong places. What I chose to do as survival jobs to be available for my acting auditions says a lot about me. Honestly, it says a lot more about the lessons I needed to learn. Way before meeting Jeff, when I was first starting out as an actress, I took a job at a company called Characters Kids Love. I dressed up as Snow White, Barney, and other characters to entertain at kids’ parties. One day I was dressed as Cinderella for a children’s hospital event. In a hurry to arrive on time, I forgot to secure my wig. I was doing my thing, entertaining the kids with a story, when one of the children came up from behind and grabbed my hair, really hard. My wig came crashing to the floor, leaving a big matted Greek ’fro exposed for everyone to see.

Yikes!

The kids started screaming “That’s not a real Cinderella; she’s a fake! She’s ugly and fatter then Cinderella, too! We knew something was wrong!”

Then I heard one of the children sob, “Mommy, get that creepy lady out of here!” But for me, the show had to go on! So, I pulled the wig halfway back onto my head and started making balloon animals. “What would you like to have today, a rabbit?” I asked. I was doing my best to get through the rest of the time there without crying, but it was a challenge.

“I want you to make Abraham Lincoln!” one of the kids said.

“Oh,” I said. “I don’t think I can make
him
out of a balloon!”

“Well, a
real
Cinderella could,” he said before walking away empty-handed.

Working kids’ parties was no joke. They can be rough, especially when a creepy dad once asked me if I could come back to his house and do a Wonder Woman thing for him and his poker buddies. But I always got through it. I’d become thick-skinned pretty fast so I was able to survive the
adventures
I sometimes had to endure. As I did at the Apollo. As I did with my mom. And as I do,
with
Jeff.

Another one of the jobs listed on my colorful résumé was personal assistant to a woman I will refer to as Mrs. Bel Air. I was hired to run errands and do chores and anything else she needed me to do. During my first day on the job, I showed up well prepared, nicely dressed, and ready for a new experience.

Oh, it was an experience, all right!

Mrs. Bel Air came into the kitchen buck naked and said, “I’m going through menopause. I need you to prepare me a tuna sandwich on white bread with the crusts cut off. Then you will come in and give me a sponge bath.”

“Sounds great, I’m going to quickly grab my flip-flops out of the car, okay?” … (insert sound of screeching tires)

And then there was Captain Coconut, a character I was hired to portray outside the Captain Coconut toy store at Universal City Walk in Hollywood. (City Walk is a significant tourist attraction and a highly trafficked area due to it being adjacent to Universal Studios.) This was by far the most abusive job I’ve ever had. I made ten dollars an hour to stand outside the store and lure people in. I wore a pink wig, colorful Jam’s board shorts, upside-down spaghetti strainer glasses, neon bouncy trampoline moon shoes, and a voice-activated headset that would squirt water on people when they walked by. I spent eight hours a day jumping up and down saying “Welcome to Captain Coconut’s!” Here’s a little sampling of the comments I heard every single day:

“Loser!”

“Get a real job!”

“How much are they paying you, fool?”

(“Not enough dummy.”)

“Guess you didn’t go to college.”

“Idiot!”

One day, two teenage boys dumped an entire bucket of water on my head from the second story of the shops.

But that didn’t make me want to quit.

My then two-year-old nephew Michael (who is now twenty and a filmmaker) visited me and screamed and cried when he saw me.

Scaring children as Captain Coconut—1995.

I still didn’t quit.

And then there was the unforgettable day when a very loud and large woman walked by with her friend. I couldn’t see very well out of the spaghetti strainer glasses I wore and I proceeded to squirt water all over her expensive gold lamé blouse. All of a sudden I heard somebody roar, “I’m gonna take that clown down…”

I ran for my life through the store, dodging the wind-up toys that were covering the store floor until I finally jumped behind the counter to make a break for the stockroom as my manager intervened. Thankfully, he ended up giving her a twenty-five-dollar gift certificate to the store, which he
deducted from my paycheck
.

I had built up quite a repertoire of off-center jobs that trained me for the eventual coping I would need to do as Jeff’s assistant. You might even say these early positions made me highly qualified for the job with Jeff.

At first, I used silence to cope with Jeff and his behavior. But then one day I realized that so much of his anger toward me wasn’t about me, at all. It was about
his
life,
his
insecurities, and
his
personal challenges. Hey, we all have them, even if we don’t like to admit it or show them like he does. This epiphany was like a lightbulb going on in my head, and suddenly I understood that
I
wasn’t the cause of Jeff’s misery any more then
he
was the cause of mine. And even though there’s been many times when we’ve both wanted to go our own way, we’ve hung in there and continued to work together—for more than ten years, now. I suppose that means that neither of us are quitters. It is our work ethic that has kept us together.

While most people crumble under Jeff’s passion, I haven’t because I get him and he gets me. Working for him let me see the payoff of choosing to go from victim to victor. Living a life based on being a victim, the “what do you think of me” mentality, was miserable and changing that thinking has helped me become a victor! To me, being a victor meant undertaking the process of getting over my obsession with myself. Hearing everything from an off-kilter perspective, I validated critics—those who did or didn’t have credentials.

Jeff has been a great training ground for making changes as well as surviving whatever life throws my way. Sure, his insults have been rough at times, but after surviving Captain Coconut, the naked lady in Bel Air, and performing at those brutal kids’ parties, I’m able to endure just about anything! What others have seen with Jeff as being rude and crude, for me it’s been just another day at the office. (Usually…)

And besides, who am I going to complain to?

When most people have an issue with their bosses at work, they can take it to the head of Human Resources and file some sort of complaint.

But not me.

Why?

Because I
am
the HR department at Jeff Lewis Design. And believe me, at Jeff Lewis Design it’s a full-time job, even with such a small staff.

To tackle that part of the business, I had a lot to learn. Even now, I’m still trying to find ways to bring a more streamlined and professional approach to Jeff’s business. When the HR department is only one person, as it is at Jeff Lewis Design, things are a bit different. You don’t have many options. In my case, I’ve had to get very good at talking to myself. (And I’m sure you realize by now, that I
do
have a talent for that!) If I have a problem, I report it to myself. There is no committee. Whenever I do write up a formal complaint, I’m usually called “mom,” “buzzkill,” or “bitch.”

In contrast, when I attend the annual Old Spaghetti Factory meeting for its employees, the situation is completely different. The head of Human Resources told me they go to seminars and teach their managers how to respect the employees, customers, and everyone else associated with the business. Complaints are filed and discussed, and finally reviewed by a committee where they are resolved.

Wow.

When I shared my experiences with the head of HR for Old Spaghetti Factory, I’m sure she thought I was just joking. But I wasn’t. I was dead serious. We’re a small office. Our atmosphere is much less formal than a larger company or corporation. So in a way, the potential for claims of harassment are greater. Everything is magnified. When I asked her for advice on dealing with interoffice issues, her response was simply, “I wouldn’t know where to begin! Maybe you should write a letter…”

So I did, you know, just to see what it might look like:

Dear Director of Human Resources,

Where do I begin? My boss, with great charm, often uses our office as a vehicle to embarrass his employees. Do you have any research proving that the feelings of employees matter in the workplace? Can negative reinforcement affect the quality of productivity? Is there any agreed upon nonunion procedure for bathroom and lunch breaks?

Please define the term sexual harassment.

Ditto employer/employee boundaries.

Signed,

Ms. Kick A. Pulos

Dear Ms. Kick A. Pulos,

As head of human resources, I unfortunately do not have access to the data you requested. My suggestion at this time, unless major boundaries are crossed, is to suck it up and be happy you have a job.

Signed,

Ms. Jennifer Pulos

Dear Ms. Jennifer Pulos,

Please define major boundaries.

Signed,

Ms. Kick A. Pulos

Dear Ms. Kick A. Pulos,

That information will be forthcoming.

Signed,

Ms. Jennifer Pulos

Something I’ve realized over time is to recognize
when
I’m doing a great job, and to validate myself. You can’t get blood from a stone, so expecting your boss to understand what it feels like to be you is a waste of time. I grew up in a home with parents who didn’t gush over their children’s accomplishments—big or small. I can’t expect something from someone if he or she isn’t capable of giving it to me. And that applies to both my work and my personal life. It’s an unrealistic expectation to think that the people around you are always going to be able to do what you need them to, to always feed your needs, especially when they are working on their own lives and their own issues. You can’t ask a cow to play the guitar.

Another thing I’ve come to realize is that very often strong women seem to have an especially hard time in the workplace. They’re often minimized for characteristics and traits that would otherwise be seen as an asset in men. (A strong man is respected; a strong woman is often seen as being a ball buster.) With all of the experience I’ve gained over the years, I’ve learned four surefire ways to deal with a boss when he or she is being difficult:

• Ignore them when they act up.

• Be effective, not emotional.

• End bad behavior.

• Make the difficult and disciplined choice not to pay attention and stay focused on the work you have to do.

For the most part, whenever someone is trying to test me, I’ve learned to keep my mouth shut and not talk back. If you’ve ever watched our show, you’ve probably noticed several times where I say nothing.

“You are a terrible assistant.”

Silence.

“Why do I even have an assistant when I do everything myself?”

Silence.

“If this job is so horrible, there’s the door.”

Silence.

Even though, at times, I’d love to be standing my ground, defending my actions, or having my say, I find keeping quiet usually diffuses a heated situation. The person being difficult doesn’t have anything to react to, anything to feed on … including you.

If you’ve ever argued with someone who has to be right all of the time, you know they won’t stop until you concede. Even if you’re right, you’ll usually lose the argument because that type of personality absolutely, positively,
has to be right all of the time
, so why prolong the agony by fighting back? In many tense situations, I stay quiet on purpose and let the situation run its course. These days I try my best to not give anyone the satisfaction of seeing me respond with so much as a half-cracked smile or raised eyebrows when they are acting up. That’s a reward for their bad behavior, and I don’t want to give it!

I like to think of myself as a babysitter who won’t stoop to the level of the child I am caring for by engaging in their bad behavior. Let’s face it, when someone goes off on you, they’re usually just acting out. I don’t see how it’s any different from a child having a temper tantrum.

To be fair, there have been many times throughout my professional career when I’ve let my various bosses get to me, and even found myself occasionally pouring gasoline on the fire as my own way of coping.

Yeah, that didn’t work quite as well as the silence thing does. When I was younger, I did that a lot. I would take the bait and was a magnet for chaos. Or I’d create my own. I looked for drama and didn’t care where or how I found it. But none of that ever made me feel any better! It took me a while, but over time, I learned that engaging in an angry, heated exchange never works out to anyone’s advantage. (Okay, maybe it did, but only for a moment.)

I once left a phone number for a subcontractor at Jeff’s office and didn’t discover my mistake until we were en route to the job site. The number was easy enough to get, but Jeff wanted the number
right away
! I spent fifteen minutes listening to a rush of words about how stupid and irresponsible it was of me to leave the phone number at home. There was a time in my life when I might have hung on those words. I might have even believed them to be true. These days, those types of negative statements rarely get to me or rile me up.