Jack cut me off and barked back, “I don’t care what they want!” His voice had boomed and echoed in the gymnastics shed, stopping all activity.
I ran outside so no one would hear the rest of his rant.
“I make the schedules because I know what works.”
Obviously, he didn’t know squat about eight-year-old girls. Even though I knew I had made the right decision for the campers, I radioed back, “Understood.”
And now, Jack’s sneer made it clear that he enjoyed my discomfort. He continued his tirade, “No one has ever questioned me about my schedules because this ismy camp, I make the rules, notyou!”
I stood frozen while Jack pointed his finger in my face and kept yelling at me.
“Now I have to worry about you being attacked by a bear. Nothing like this happens to anyone else. Only you. Why must you walk around the camp by yourself? What is it about you that you’re either creating your own drama or you’re always in the middle of some kind of trouble?”
I tried to stay calm, but my heart thumped hard in my chest. “I take my job very seriously. My campers are happy and well cared for . . .”
“Your campers? Did you just sayyourcampers?All campersare mine. You’ve no idea how hard I worked getting them signed up.”
But I did know. Jack had been charming and persuasive when he came to tell us abouthiscamp. Then the follow-up emails, only two beds left for my daughters, so, yes, I did have an inkling of how hard he pushed to sell Woodlands.
“This camp was falling to pieces before I bought it. I made it successful.Me. I keep the campers happy. I keep them well cared for. Me. Not you.”
I could see the vein in his temple pulsing, and the hand not pointing in my face was clenched into a fist.
“Do you hear what I’m saying to you?”
“It’s hard not to, since you’re screaming in my face.” I took a step back. If he planned on striking me, I wasn’t going to make it easy for him.
He stopped for a moment. He was perspiring profusely, and a band of sweat formed on his upper lip. He was practically panting with rage.
In a place where it was virtually impossible to be alone, I stood face-to-face with a madman. I was sure people were witnessing his diatribe, but no one was willing to challenge Jack and come to my defense.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t fire you right here, right now.”
No matter what I did or said, this wasn’t going to end well. But I’d been married to and arguing with a lawyer for the past fifteen years, and I knew how to win an argument. “Do you really want to fire me? The campers like me. I didn’t ask for the bear to appear. Go ahead and fire me and wait for the harassment papers to show up on your desk. If you want to take me down, I’m more than happy to bring you along for the ride.”
Both of Jack’s hands were now clenched. I thought for sure he was going to pummel me. His already loud voice went up a few more decibels. “How dare you threaten me? Who the hell do you think you are?”
It seemed like the angrier he got, the calmer I became. “If you lay a hand on me, I will have this camp closed within twenty-
four hours.”
Jack started shaking from the effort of keeping his anger in check. He unclenched his fists, snarled at me, and abruptly walked away, slapping his hands onto his legs.
I took a deep breath, shivered, and turned toward my cabin. I was proud of not breaking down. I went to my room where I felt safe, locked the door, threw myself onto my bed, and began to sob. I didn’t know what to do—I didn’t understand what had just transpired. When I calmed down, I decided I needed to speak with someone. Mindy, the camp’s social worker, seemed the best choice. I needed clarity and she knew Jack well. She’d be able to explain and untangle what just happened.
I picked up my radio. “Mindy, please come in for Lori.”
“Mindy is withme. She works forme. Not you!”
I dropped the radio, unnerved when Jack’s voice invaded the sanctuary of my room. How stupid of me. Of course Jack heard all and knew all—he had just screamed that in my face. I sat on my bed feeling confused and isolated. I obviously couldn’t get back on the radio again, and if I could, who would I call, Bethany? Abby? Maybe Gilda?
I held my pillow against my stomach, recalling the phone conversation I’d had with Jack back in February. I had been trying to figure out a way to pay for camp when I surprised myself by impulsively calling him and asking for a job.
The conversation came back to me as if it were yesterday.
“The timing of this call seems opportune. Marilyn is sitting next to me. Do you mind if I put you on speaker?” He didn’t wait for my reply. “Marilyn, Lori just asked me if we had a job for her.”
Marilyn had replied, “We’re in the midst of staffing and one of the more challenging positions to fill is division leader. Jack’s sitting next to me smiling and nodding.”
