I Know His Type — I Worked for “Swiss Army Bob” (Sketch)

Spoiler: This blog post is ultimately about Donald Trump. I get there eventually.

In 1990 (give or take) I sketched a character I dubbed “Swiss Army Bob.” It was a take on my former boss, Bob, who was the owner of a small print shop in Tempe, Arizona, where I worked during college.

This sketch, like many others I drew during those years, was a way for me to cope with working for Bob — a highly unethical boss who thought he could sell you anything, even though he had nearly nothing to offer. I would show my sketches to my coworkers for a laugh, and then destroy the evidence.

Bob had charm that could win over just about anyone for awhile. He was a former sales rep for a photocopier company and carried himself like a business genius. But for every new relationship Bob won with his charm, that charm had a shelf life. Over the course of several years, I watched it expire again and again.

I fell for it at first — I desperately needed the job and assumed that his success must have been real. After all, he drove a big late-model Chevrolet Suburban, and even had a car phone — which was a big deal in the late 1980s.

Bob Demanded Loyalty on Day One

On my first day working for Bob, the first thing he asked me for was my loyalty. At the time, I thought it was noble. I must have assumed that my loyalty would be reciprocated.

In retrospect: What had he done yet to earn my loyalty? Who does that?

It didn’t take long for me to see through the facade. Bob was, at his core, a fraud. He lied to customers constantly.

Bob would say yes to anything a potential client asked for, even when he had no idea how to deliver the work. If someone called asking for a service the shop didn’t provide or know how to provide, it went like this:

Customer: Do you offer screen printing on hot air balloons?

Bob: Of course! Come on in and let’s discuss the details, and I’ll give a quote.

Then he would then proceed frantically to search the yellow pages for a subcontractor to do the work before the customer arrived. Or he’d ask me to do it.

He hired a series of collegiate front desk clerks with big boobs, not for their skills, but because he enjoyed leering at them, and sexually harassing them.

He abused the power dynamic between himself and his employees, bullying, shouting, threatening. I was amazed at how he never had adrenaline hangovers or regret, the way I do after I’m provoked to anger.

Also: Bob did not pay the required Federal taxes for employees — which will screw me out of some of my Social Security and Medicare benefits when the time comes.

You get the picture. Bob should have gone to prison, but he didn’t.

Does it sound familiar?

An Imprinting Experience

The years working for Bob were fateful and formative. I became more than adept at running and maintaining high-speed copiers. (Shout out to the Xerox workhorses of the 1980s: the humble 1075, the robust 9500, and even the futuristic 9900.) I developed hacks for the machines, creatively exploiting and repurposing their quirks.

I was studying journalism and political science. I even convinced Bob to get into politics. I suggested that the shop donate the printing of thousands of petitions for the initiative to recall Arizona’s racist regressive governor, Evan Mecham. I argued that it would be good publicity. And it was.

At the print shop I developed a knack for marketing. And that knack ended up bringing in more revenue than Bob ever did.

When Peace Corps invited me to work on a project in Cameroon, it was my hands-on business experience that interested them, not the fact that I had studied The Federalist Papers, Adam Smith, and Karl Marx.

Sketches for Fred

When the print shop was losing money, Bob used his skills of persuasion to convince Fred, a long-time friend, to invest or lend money to keep the business afloat.

When the scales inevitably fell from Fred’s eyes, he realized that he would lose everything if the business relationship with Bob were to continue. So, realizing Bob’s incompetence, Fred took over operating the business. Bob’s days were numbered.

For me, it was liberating. I began to openly criticize Bob to Fred — even while Bob was still technically working with the print shop.

I no longer had to be discreet when sharing my drawings with coworkers. Fred appreciated my humor, and I would leave sketches on the employee bulletin board for him to see, and I’d wait to hear him react.

‘Swiss Army Bob’ was one of those sketches. Fred kept those sketches as mementos. A few years ago, his wife sent me a photo of the original ‘Swiss Army Bob.’

Fred and Bob are both deceased now. Their friendship never recovered from the damage Bob caused.

Recognizing the Type

When Kamala Harris talks about her experience prosecuting frauds, con artists, and predators, her stump speech punchline is, “I know his type.” Trump’s type.

It’s a punchline that resonates with me because I know the type too. Doesn’t everybody? Apparently not.

Donald Trump — so obvious to me a fraud, liar, and self-serving con artist — has managed to convince millions of people otherwise.

For those who oppose Trump, it can be mystifying to understand why anyone would still support him — and why they ever supported him.

But having worked for someone with many similarities to Trump, maybe I have a bit more insight. The confidence, the bluster, the ability to deflect blame and project an image of success — it’s all part of the con man’s playbook.

And if you’ve never had the misfortune of being subjected to such a person for an extended period, lucky you. But take it from me: I know his type.

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The medium of this sketch is ball-point pen. I added colors and details in Sketchbook Pro, and tweaked a little bit in GIMP.