How to Deal with a Man Who Thinks He's God


You know that guy, right?

The man who thinks he is God.

The man who throws words and demands out into the Universe, expecting creation to happen because of his might.

The man who holds no respect for his subordinates (which is everyone). The man that has a blatant fear of powerful women.

The man who sleeps until 2:00pm and is late to every meeting, because no one's time is more valuable than his.

The man who is followed, inexplicably, by the masses who don't see through his shallow charm.

I know this man. 

And my initial, purely reactionary response for dealing with this man is this:

Run the other way. Fast.


But that advice isn't going to do you a whole lot of good, is it?

Let me back up and share my personal experience:

I recently came out of the other side of a 4 year relationship with The Man Who Thinks He Is God.

Let me be clear before continuing: The Man Who Thinks He Is God is not an ex-boyfriend or ex-lover or a man I was intimate with in any way.

He was my boss.

And this post is not solely meant for venting (although I will be doing some of that), but to warn. To advise. To empower the young women in the workplace who might (knowingly or unknowingly) surrender to this man.

Because this man exists in every industry. Every state. Every corner. 

And I'm tired of him getting away with his crimes.

The beginning of 2017 was a beginning for me, but it was also a bitter, painful end. The end of my job of 4 years, a job that I developed immensely in, a job that allowed me to travel all over the country and internationally, a job that became me.

The Man Who Thinks He Is God was the final word in the company. God, by all means. The Creator in his fantasy land.

And I'm still undoing the things he did to my mental stability.

Such as the begrudging acceptance of lack of respect. The Man Who Thinks He Is God does not say the words "Thank You" or "Please", and knows not how to praise or give credit to anyone but himself.

I'm also undoing my sense of worthlessness. That feeling of working your way up from the very bottom of the company over 3 years, only to find out that the only way to really win is to kiss his ass.

Then to be set up to fail in a role with no support, only to be edged out and cut off. 

I'd be lying if I said it didn't still sting to think about.


This man preached a beautiful message, which is how his true self was disguised. He had fans in the thousands who practically worshiped the grounds he walked on, but as the years went on, more people came to their senses.

His narcissistic, cowardly self couldn't handle that.

He started spitting lies. He started getting desperate. He started doing illegal and shady things.

And those who stood up to him were in trouble. 

That's why The Man Who Thinks He Is God surrounds himself with weak-minded people. I suppose I could be mistaken for weak-minded, since I am mild mannered, am often unaware of my own worth, and averse to professional confrontation.

I was swept up under his wing, kept on a string by his whims and demands. 

Every woman around him was expected to be a part-time personal assistant, no matter their status or job. Getting him coffee. Picking up his hotel rooms. Doing his laundry. I've done it all.

(Without a "thank you" to be heard)

All the while, I was made to believe I was somehow appreciated, even though I was doing it all wrong. 

It's somehow my fault that you decided you wanted to completely change everything about a project we've worked on for 4 months in 2 hours, and there's no possible way for all the coding, writing, promotion, and building to be done before then. Poor you.

It's somehow my fault that you're not the god you think you are.

It's somehow your humble servants' faults that everything you speak doesn't come into existence. 

Newsflash: "Speaking your world into existence" happens because you make it happen. Not giving orders to your "subordinates" and then disappearing on a bender for a week. 

(Oops, did I say that?)

The constant high's and low's. The good and the bad. The justification I had to create in my own head.

And perhaps it comes to understanding this:

I am actually undoing what I did to myself.

After experiencing the neglect and mistreatment of The Man Who Thinks He Is God, I know what I should have done all along. 

I should have never given him the satisfaction of justifying his actions or making excuses for him. I should have parted ways on my own terms, instead of allowing him to quickly cut me out like a wart.

I should have ran the other way.


Somewhere, beneath the rage that I am trying to stifle, I know that I should be thankful to The Man Who Thinks He Is God. For he gave me something that no one else could manifest: A lesson in trust.

That's a lesson in trusting others, as well as a lesson in trusting myself.

Life is a journey. A beautiful one. 

As much as I would like to say that The Man Who Thinks He Is God is an evil person, my soul tells me that there are no evil people. Only misguided, misjudged, and mistaken people.

The Man Who Thinks He Is God had good intentions, somewhere in his thick, disrespectful skull. Because everyone, in their own minds, think they are doing good. He doesn't think he is doing evil, even if his actions turn out that way.

My life did not matter to him.


And I have to accept that, as much as it hurts.

The Lessson I Hope You Take Away: The Man Who Thinks He Is God will fade away altogether, as long has he continues to be surrounded by strong people, especially women. We need to stand up for what we believe in (even if that means losing a job), protect our sensitive inner selves, and combat his dangerous whims.

Because I know The Man Who Thinks He Is God, and he is a coward.

With love,