Last week's most terrifying piece of news: "Court rules bosses are still authority figures outside of work." The case applied to sexual harassment, but it's a horrible precedent. Say you're in the grocery store, and you run into The Boss. Before the court's decision, there would have been that awkward transition as you shift up and your boss shifts down, each of you popping the clutch in the process. Not anymore! Now the boss barks the usual crisp commands:
"Meet me in Dairy in 10 minutes; I want to go over some milk scenarios with you. And start thinking about where I might want to take eggs this weekend. If you could put together a PowerPoint about the pros and cons of the whole poached field, that would be great. Have it in my cart by four."
A little history might help. The idea that the boss ceases to be The Boss when the whistle blows and you yabba-dabba-do down the dino's tail is a recent concept. Sixties-era sitcoms have a recurring theme of white-collar dread: the Boss is coming to dinner. Somehow he invites himself over, and the husband always panics. If Samantha burns the roast, my career is over. You wonder how that played out, exactly: Johnson, your work with this firm has been exemplary, but I speak for the board when I say your wife's tough roast taxed a sore molar I've been nursing for a week or two. I'll have to let you go.
This is where the courts come in handy these days. You can't just fire anyone anymore because the spouse burned the roast.
You have to prove it.
jlileks@startribune.com • 612-673-7858 • More daily at lileks.com
