Really Beast…You are Killing Me. February 6, 2012

Y’all.  I’ve had it today. It’s Monday, early afternoon, and I’m ready to punch a bitch.  And by bitch, I mean Beast.  Beast, my coworker, has been in rare form today…even for her.  Don’t know Beast?  Read here.

Here’s my morning:

• being told I wasn’t recycling right (I put it in the proper can.  How is the wrong?!)
•  forced to answer three phone lines at once while she filed her nails…literally.
• told I was looking haggard (I think she’s jealous, I have on my Tiffany blue cardigan with diamond looking buttons -  perfectly accented jewelry and shoes. I look freaking adorable.)
• critiqued endlessly on every single thing I did today thus far
• asked to quit typing so loudly (Now I’m doing it just to piss her off.)

Then, she went and pulled this:

Beast: So. What did you think of the National Anthem last night during the big game?

Me: honestly and truly, still attempting to be perky after all the above  Oh I thought she was great! I love her!

Beast: Hmh. Figures you’d think that.

Me: seething, blinking, remembering to breathe, forcing myself not to acknowledge her

Beast: Yea. She hit a couple notes that were wrong.  You know I have perfect pitch hearing.

Me: still ignoring

Beast: Hm. Well…you wouldn’t know anything about that. You don’t have a famous mom.

Me: OH SHUT THE HELL UP YOU STUPID PIECE OF LARD. ok, I just said that part in my mind…..Um, I thought she was great – and I also thought she looked adorable.

Beast: Really?!  HAHAHA. I hated her hair.  What is she, like 12? I guess you’d like that prissy girl.

Me: I do the death turn. This means I slowly turn my head, just my head, in your direction, give you the “shit is about to get real” look, then dare you to speak. 

Beast: Yea, you really do look awful today. What..you didn’t sleep again? Sucks to be you!

Me: Do. Not. Speak. To. Me. The. Rest. Of. The. Day. Understand?

Beast: Whatever prissy pants.

Me: Did I stutter? Lose the attitude….and the “Fear the Turtle” shirt. It’s juvenile and … it accentuates your stomach sweetie. I’m pretty sure I’m going to hell for that one. But…. ya know.

So because of Beast, I’m revising the drinking game I initially created for her. I might need a new liver if I don’t.

One Beverage of your Choice:

• Every time Beast rolls back in her chair and you are unable to avoid speaking to her OR she looms at your desk and you break your vow of silence
• Each time she says, “You’re just wrong!” or heaves a heavy, disapproving sigh.
• Each time Beast cops a fake Southern accent
• Each time Beast leaves for over an hour and doesn’t tell you goodbye or where she’s going

One Shot:

• Every day I’m the first one here, last to leave
• Every time Beast says “Well, that’s not MY problem.”
• Every time Beast attempts to make you feel stupid, inferior or less beautiful than any human should…BEFORE noon.

Here is the tally for the day: 4 beverages and 6 shots.  Hmmm.  Maybe this still isn’t good for my liver….I need a new job y’all.

The Work Cast Part 1 January 24, 2012

Today’s post only works because this blog is anonymous.  If this actually got pinned to the people I’m about to talk about, I’d be mortified….like clutch my pearls-keel over-someone grab the smelling salts – mortified.  Then I’d probably have to flee to Abu Dhabi….but I digress.

I work in a small office.  There are a grand total of six people handling this international organization.  Blows. My. Mind.  Then I realize oh – I do the job of ten, that’s how this works!  The fact that I work so much means I have to find a little comic relief or go mad.  Lucky for me, I have an entire cast of characters to offer me this relief…daily.

I am going to make this a four part series.  I know I have five co-workers, but one is just lazy and that’s all there is to him.  There is no blog fodder there.  So, hold tight blog land.  More to follow!

First up: The Beast

There’s one in every office.  Once you make your mind about her, every single action she does pisses you off.  Currently, she’s drinking a soda.  No way that should piss you off right? Nope. I just looked at her and thought, “Look at that bitch slurping soda like she’s God.” Then I thought um…. really? Did I just think that? Yes. Yes I did think that.

She’s the boss’ daughter and I call her beast because she kind of resembles one.  She’s large, furry and has big teeth.  She’s belligerent, lazy and acts like she entitled to the world.  Beast always has to be right and she always has an opinion.

Beast’s comic relief to me comes in two forms that I’ve turned into a drinking game.

1) Whenever Beast wants to interject herself unwantedly into your conversation, she rolls her chair back and stares at you.  Then, talks over you until you have to listen or go deaf.  Every time she rolls back, that’s a shot I get to take at some point during the week.  This week, I’m up to ten shots.  It’s Tuesday.

2) Beast’s favorite thing on earth is to be right. So, I ask her questions.  Questions I already know the answer to, but I’m not allowed to actually answer because they are her “specialty”. Every time she gives me a wrong answer, I prove she’s wrong. I then get to watch the smirk on her face dissipate as she tries to figure out a way around the right answer and try to find some loophole that makes her answer right in some alternate universe. When I push her to the point she says the line, “Well. You’re just wrong and that’s all there is to it.” I get to pick a drink of my choice for that.  Again, it’s Tuesday and I’m up four.

I think the point I started really disliking Beast was the day she scolded me for needing to put my check in the bank.  She lives at home with her mom still.  She has no bills.  She gets paid more than I do…. so of course she has no need to put her freaking check in the bank right away! Me? I’m single. Mounds of college debt. A mortgage.  A car payment.  Credit cards from when I used to make money from a previous job-now I don’t and I am still paying these damn things off. All of these things have due dates.  I get paid once a month.  The audacity of someone to scold me for needing to put my check into the bank in a timely fashion? The hell.  I have wanted to slap the white right off her since that day.

Seriously?  Ok blog land – she just rolled out and asked why I was typing so much.  I WORK IN A FREAKING OFFICE. WE HAVE COMPUTERS. I’M TYPING UP A REPORT FOR BOARD….and my blog, but that’s beside the point….THAT’S WHY.

We are officially up to shot #11.  Yes please.  I think I’ll have one tonight.  Maybe two.  Wanna join me?  Cheers!