Linda Goodman's Sun Signs (58 page)

An occasional Capricorn youngster will coldly dictate to weaker friends or siblings with a stubborn will, which can amount to childish cruelty, but far more often the Capricorn child will submit to more dominant Sun signs. There may then be a problem of brothers or sisters bossing the little goat, and you'll think he's being pushed around unfairly. Don't worry. He can take care of himself. One little Capricorn girl I know is completely submissive to her older, more aggressive, Sagittarian sister. With the patience of the earth signs she takes orders from the more fiery personality. She never talks back or argues. But after an especially severe bossing session, the older sister just happens to find her shoes, her hairbrush or her favorite sweater is “missing.” It always turns up eventually, and no one in the family ever has the slightest idea how it got “lost,” but for weeks afterwards, the bossy sister is more considerate. Never underestimate the power of Capricorn for self-preservation. Somehow, the odds get evened.

Around members of the opposite sex, little goats will be bashful, but intensely interested. You'll hear remarks like, “Boys are drippy goons,” and “Girls are stupid creeps,” but they'll get mysteriously excited about Valentine's Day in school, and send a bushel of cards signed “guess who.” Romantically, adolescence can be painful. They'll need encouragement and careful handling when dating begins.

It's a blessing to be the parents of a January boy or girl. With very few exceptions, it's like a gift from the gods. Unless he's pushed too far, in which case he can say something bluntly cruel and freezingly painful, the Capricorn child will usually be as sweet as the “sugy cake” he hates. If you're short on the rent money you can always borrow a few twenties from his fat piggy bank. He'll be polite to his elders, and mind almost without being asked, except for rare stubborn spells. He'll organize his chores, and be serious about his future, though you may have to force him to scrub behind his ears. He'll cling to home and family with honest devotion, and seldom make you wonder where he is. Most of the time, he'll be right there beside you, enjoying every minute. He has his own bright, solid and practical dreams. Don't worry if he snubs
Sleeping Beauty
and
Goldilocks.
When you're old and gray, and feeling lost and forgotten by a thoughtless, younger generation, your Capricorn son or daughter will sincerely respect your wisdom. He'll be enthusiastic about inviting you to visit or even to make your home with him. It's for all the world as if the Capricorn youngster is saying—for real this time—”All right, now I'll be the Mommy (or Daddy), and
you
be the baby. You took care of me with love. Now I'll take care of you.” There'll be no make-believe about it, but Hans Christian Andersen never wrote a happier ending.

I know a Capricorn boss, who's just about as typical of the Sun sign as you can get. She's the major domo of the world of a famous male singer from Hoboken. Few people know it. There are no neon signs spelling her name, and columnists don't print juicy tidbits about her activities. You'll never see her face on the cover of
Time,
but you may have to pass his inspection before you get the chance to try to sell any glamorous ideas to the Idol.

This goat sits firmly behind her desk, efficiently tying up all the loose ends and dangling strings in the amazingly intricate life of the famous personality. This can range from meeting the singer's relatives at the airport to buying a yacht or renting the floodlights for a premiere. She calmly handles hot potatoes like law suits and tax problems, by delegating the right potato into the right accountant's or attorney's oven for baking, making sure it neither stays raw nor gets burned. Her phone rings constantly with S.O.S. calls from other members of the widespread entourage; and she knows just who is where and why and when they're coming back. She keeps four million statistics in her head, including top secret information reporters would give an eye tooth to learn, the opening scene of a twenty-year-old movie, the box office figures of a current film, and the fastest source of catered, hot spaghetti with Italian cheese sauce.

Her day never ends. It starts at dawn, and midnight finds her winding up the schedule of orders she'll see are executed promptly the next morning. Anyone who really knows the score will tell you that certain bedlam would result if she ever disappeared from the frantic scene. She looks grossly out of place in a night club, standing with a vaguely uncomfortable look, where duty demands she show her poker face on occasion.

This particular executive goat has a strange base of operations on an entire floor of a Manhattan building. In addition to the outer rooms and reception hall, there's a huge space for her private nest. In one corner is a large, circular desk for the mountain of papers that require her daily attention. The rest of her private domain is furnished with two big couches, several overstuffed chairs, coffee tables, lamps, book cases and real hard wood floors partially covered by an ornate Persian rug with an Areca Palm plant in the corner. He even has a dining room, with a table big enough to seat the Mets for lunch, china closets, mirrors, dishes, silver and glasses. The room is tastefully painted in warm hues, and there are several pieces of exotic art adorning the walls. You would think you were in someone's home, instead of in the busy office of an important executive.

That's exactly where you are. Since she must spend so many hours away from home, this Capricorn boss simply brought it with her. Other bosses may enjoy the commercial world, and be glad to get away from home, but not the goat. Home is sacred. At almost any hour, you'll find this particular Capricorn's relatives around. Family life is never neglected for business.

Since she's such a typical Saturn boss her habits tell a lot about all Capricorn executives. She's a kindly mother image to those who work for her—disciplined, but fair. She insists on obedience to duty, and woe betide the employee who forgets to water her palm. She seldom raises her voice to give orders. Her tone is gruff, but normally quiet, except on rare occasions when stupidity or careless mistakes cause her to screech. Visitors are sometimes intimidated by her serious, formal manner, but the staff has discovered her soft heart, and they'll brook no criticism of her from outsiders—though they may swear a little under their breath, among themselves, when she cracks the whip. She burns their ears off when they goof, but she comes up with an extra fifty when it's needed, and she'll send her assistant's mother flowers in the hospital. She seldom goes in for compliments or flattery. A mumbled “Yep, that's good,” is about as close as she comes to extravagant praise. But she's a sympathetic listener to her employees' personal troubles, and she makes sure they eat right and wear their boots when it's raining. The staff is like a family, with the Capricorn boss unquestionably the head of the house.

She doesn't hand out Christmas bonuses, but she's not stingy when an employee gets stuck in Las Vegas on a vacation without the plane fare home, or when her assistant she keeps running around like a jack rabbit has a doctor's bill that can't be paid on his salary. (In the Vegas instance, she'll wire the return trip ticket, rather than the cash, and it will be tourist class. Wastefulness is not tolerated.)

Although she's sometimes curt, she can also be gentle and timid. A compliment will turn her ears pink, though she'll seldom acknowledge that she even heard it. Charity solicitors can always get a check from her, and if the charity is connected with children or the old folks, she'll add an extra zero. She has to be reminded to rest and eat lunch, since responsibility causes her to neglect her personal needs. Now and then, she goes into a black, melancholy mood of Saturnine depression, closes his door, stares out the window on Central Park. No one dares disturb her privacy. Phone calls are held and office problems kept on ice until the depression lifts. She dresses in conservative, dark colors and subdued styles. She really looks more as though she's connected with a staid bank than with the most hip singer of these happenin‘ times. Most of the bric-a-brac around her desk are antiques, and there's a generous sprinkling of faded photos of her husband, children and various, assorted relatives.

That's a simon pure picture of a Capricorn boss. If you keep the image in your mind, you'll have a pretty good idea what to expect from any Saturn executive including your own. If she has any spare time, she won't waste it. She'll expect you to imitate her. Are the phones quiet? Good. You'll have time to file those letters. Is the schedule light today? Fine. You can move those cartons in the stock room. Don't spend office time filing your nails or hanging on the phone in the back office, talking with your significant other, if you're one of her employees. Your Saturn boss will materialize out of thin air, like a frowning, avengeful genie. Employees who reek of cheap cologne or who practice putting in the conference room won't find the office of a Capricorn executive a happy home. As far as she's concerned, the place for cologne is in the bottle, and the place for putting is on the golf course (preferably at the best country club).

She's always impressed with the status of those who have inched a few toeholds above her on the mountain of success, so you'll make a hit if you're familiar with the social register. If you didn't graduate from Vassar or Harvard, then for goodness sakes, at least have an aunt or uncle who did.

Make sure she knows you take your mother to lunch every Wednesday, or that you pay your younger brother's tuition at prep school, and you're sure to get promoted. A groomed appearance, courteous manners and perfect grammar are necessities, and efficient work without whining or complaints will be a requirement. Never call her by her first name in front of strangers, and never breathe a word of criticism about her family in front of anybody. For Christmas, give her an portrait of Eleanor Roosevelt you picked up in an antique shop, or a rock you snitched last summer from the back door of Nancy Hanks' birthplace. Capricorns revere history and the past. Just don't tell her you snitched the rock. They also revere scrupulous honesty. Polishing apples won't get you ten cents extra in your pay envelope. But understanding her lonely heart will gain you his confidence. Others may see her as a tough disciplinarian with a heart of stone. Let her know you see her for what she really is: a shy and sensitive soul, who secretly longs to be free and casual, but knows she's chained by Saturn's demands of obedience to order, system and authority. She'll treat you like a son or daughter. You'll get punished when you're bad and rewarded when you're good. But she won't let you down when you're in trouble or lock the door when you need help. Just don't forget to water that palm.

Look around the office and see if you can spot him. No fair sneaking a look at the birthdays in your personnel records. You can forget about that original, creative fellow with the bushy sideburns and the antler tooth necklace. You can also cross off the sport who brags about his pub cruising capers and his candlelight conquests. They're not Saturn types.

Jolly George, who keeps the staff in a state of perpetual panic with his not-quite-practical jokes, definitely isn't a Capricorn. Neither is light-hearted Louie, with the glib tongue and the bouncing baby brainstorms—nor the new promotion manager with the wild ties, who keeps humming “Day-o, Day-ay-ay-o, daylight come and me wanna go home” in sales meetings.

How about that busy worker with the reserved manner, who wears suspenders and parts his hair in the middle? The one with the quiet socks and a picture of his family in an ostrich leather frame on his desk. He usually comes in a few minutes early and leaves a few minutes late. His head is fastened firmly to his shoulders, and his pencil points are always sharp. The staff calls him “Sir,” salesmen call him “Mister,” and you call him when there's trouble. Of course he's a Capricorn.

Who else could you load up with a pile of work that would stagger a horse—but not a goat? He's your dependable safety valve when things get snarled and disorganized, and he comes through for you without making a big fuss about it. I doubt if he ever dashes into your office. He walks in, and he probably checks first to see if you're busy. His clothes and manner are both conservative, and he's the only one in the bunch who never gets caught without his umbrella when it rains. He won't lose his brief case in the subway, or forget where he left his lunch. His lunch? Naturally. What else do you think he carries in that brown paper bag? Resturants are expensive. Besides, he hates to tip and fight the crowds.

The last time you saw him flash a bright, toothpaste grin was when your assistant mentioned she didn't know how the office could run without him. He's not the grinning type. Or the foolish, frivolous type. He may tell quite a few jokes in his wry and dry way, or take a discreet peek at a pretty girl, but Saturn will never permit him to pull out all the stops. Most of the time, he minds his own business. The Capricorn is more inclined to frown sternly on the casual jollities of the gay extroverts than to join them, although his own brand of cynical humor can be hilarious. When he's in form, it's hard to top him.

You have to admit he has unique and valuable assets. Your Capricorn employee is the one you sic on the tough, suspicious, Internal Revenue man. When the goat gets through with him, he's not as suspicious and far less tough. He may even be courteous and respectful. It's not everyone who can successfully intimidate a tax man. Remember that high pressure character, who wanted to sell you several thousand dollars worth of limited edition Omas Gaia gold and crystal pens to pep up your assistant's morale? After two minutes with your Capricorn man, the poor soul was pressing the down button on the elevator, looking like a fallen souffle.