Working with an American boss

 A Journey from Nervousness to Pride

 

In the early 2000s, I was working in a prestigious international organization alongside professionals from around the globe—Americans, British, couple of Asians from China, Japan and Philippines and also fellow Indians. After a couple of years as a secretary, the management reshuffled roles, and I was assigned to report to an American Principal Scientist.

 

It was a warm July day when I first approached his cabin. With a nervous heart, doubts clouding my mind—will I understand his accent? Will I manage his expectations? —I gently knocked on the door. “Excuse me,” I said. He turned swiftly, his shoulder-length greying hair swinging, and in a crisp voice asked, “Yes, what can I do for you?”

 

“I’m your new secretary,” I managed to reply.

Without delay, he said, “Please prepare a draft call for the project kick-off meeting.”

 

Confused and unsure, I drafted something and returned with the draft printout. He barely glanced at it before tearing it in two and tossing it into the bin. I was stunned, terrified. I quietly returned to my desk.

 

A colleague sitting nearby leaned over and said, “Madam, don’t worry—you’ll learn everything.”

His words gave me a sliver of relief, but I still wondered how I would survive.

 

Determined, I requested the boss to give access to his mailbox so I could learn from his correspondence. He agreed, and I spent weeks going through his emails, trying to decode his tone, his expectations, and his style. His accent, initially difficult, slowly became familiar. Within six months, I could draft his responses with ease—and soon, he simply said, “Go ahead and send this,” without a single correction.

 

With every task I completed, my confidence grew. I took ownership of daily operations and supported him like a true professional. Over the 6 years and 6 months that followed, we built mutual respect. I saw not just a strict boss, but a treasure of knowledge, man who valued discipline, respected Indian traditions, and never questioned my need for family time or festivals.

 

When it came time to move on in pursuit of my career, he organized a farewell gathering. In front of a large team, he spoke warmly of my journey—how I had learned, adapted, and thrived. One sentence from him has remained etched in my memory ever since:

“I’m losing my right hand.”

 

That day, I left not just with goodbyes, but with a deep sense of pride—in my growth, and the trust I had earned.

--Devi BS