Sunday, November 02, 2008
Opinion, Politics

Voting for a boss

By listening to rock songs and watching “Saturday Night Live,” I managed to get an idea of who Ronald Reagan was

Sen. John McCain during a campaign rally in Defiance, Ohio on Oct. 30.
Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images

By Stephanie Ramage

The first time I ever voted for a president was in 1984. There were no YouTube videos or viral e-mails, but by listening to rock songs and watching “Saturday Night Live,” I managed to get an idea of who Republican incumbent Ronald Reagan was: “Ronnie Ray Gun,” Maggie Thatcher’s boyfriend, a washed-up actor whom Hollywood hated for getting old and conservative.

With hair so short that I passed for a gender-bender (long story), and dressed in what looked like IRA terrorist garb, I voted for Reagan via absentee ballot from a church school in Utah where I was treated like an outcast. Other kids voted for him because their parents said they should. I voted for him because his own community—Hollywood—hated him, and because I couldn’t stand the idea of a wimp like Democrat Walter Mondale being in charge of things. Reagan wasn’t the guy that so many on the left and right try to paint him as today—he was not cool and universally loved, nor was he anything like a dove—but he was a good president who left the country in better shape than he found it.

Years later I would vote for Bill Clinton. Somewhere along the way, I am pretty sure, I may as well confess, I voted for Ralph Nader. The thing that always steers my hand there in the sanctity of the voting booth is this one simple question: Who would I want to work for?

You see, I have had some nightmarish bosses.

I once worked at a radio station for a crazy woman, who happened to be black, who told me flat-out that she would have preferred to hire a black woman for the job but the only black woman who applied still required some training. (If my boss had been white, I suspect she still wouldn’t have liked me.) I quit the job a few months later when one of the night-shift guys cut up her birthday balloon and she blamed me for it. I once worked for a white man who would call me into his office for the sole purpose of railing at me until I cried—then he would say he was sorry, ask for a hug and send me on my way. I soon perfected the rapid-fire cry-and-get-the-hell-out-of-there method. My work experience has taught me that the best boss—for me and for America—is the one who doesn’t complicate my life.   

I prefer a boss who lets me do my job without feeling threatened or coming up with a million obstacles. I like a boss who has enough faith in me that it would never occur to him to micromanage me; one who won’t abuse his authority; one who knows that when I shine, he shines. I prefer the kind of boss who gives someone a promotion because her work merits it, not because of any political considerations; someone who’ll stand up to the suits in the boardroom.

As evidenced by my voting record, I am an independent, and this year is a lot like my 18th all over again. I am once more an outcast in my own community—but this time it’s not because of what I wear, it’s because of how I think. And I am once again rooting for the guy Hollywood hates, the old man I believe will leave this country better than he found it. A man who would be a good boss. The odds are against me, but that’s usually the way it is. And like John McCain, I wouldn’t want it any other way. SP

Stephanie Ramage guests on Georgia Public Broadcasting's final hour of election night coverage beginning at 11 p.m., Nov. 4 on Channel 8 and on radio, WABE, 90.1 FM.