Given the work history, it’s just a painful thing I got pent up, hold in, squeeze together and beat down any oozing to get out work stories. Practically a full day of trying hard to not be a homicidal maniac at worst and flaming asshole at least (seriously, I was a fucking model of team player) today at work is the elephant in my room. But, not enough of a good story, so I’lls just pretend the elephant’s an end table.
I’ll shake it off with this little weasely kiss ass bit. Thing is, you all know, work sucks. It just does. Sure a couple of Type-A CPAs somewhere in the universe get a little wood at the dream of another audit. Maybe even a fair number of people are lucky enough to feel a sense of “personal fulfillment” every now and again. Like, take the Pope, if you dig mass and Jesus and ancient books, he’s probably having fun getting up and going to work in the morning. I mean, shit, he does have an awesome hat and slippers.
The rest of us, though, even on the best day it’s like the cliche goes, “why do you think they call it work?” Every day, day after fucking day, world without end, you’re expected to do shit. Often tiresome, repetitive, frustrating shit.
Still and all, every now and again, I get reminded that I at least get to co-work with some non-assholes. Like there’s a chick who works pretty high up in the business, money, filthy lucre executive food chain who sports a pretty cool tat. I know it, because unlike in the sphincter-tight Northeast, she’s worn shirts that let it shine. And, not only that, she’s easy going with the conversational skills and all. Found out today, she used to work at a true Boston landmark, the Pine Street Inn.
Fuck it, one quick kind of negative work story. So, I’m meeting with a chick who I’ve had some oil and water (actually maybe gasoline and match) convos. Mostly when my boss has put me in the messenger to be shot role. But all sorts of wise folks responsible for my continued payment, asked me to be chill, so I was chill.
Somewhere in our heart to heart with my trying my best to be sweet and communicative and shit, ‘cuz seriously I got the vocab and the mad skills to talk, y’all, I felt the subtle dope slap of “wait a fucking minute.”
She’s letting me know her side of a difficult situation in which she felt painted into a corner and unfairly set up as looking maybe less than sharp or less than sane. OK “fair ‘nuf,” I say both in my head and more or less out loud. And, I say something about, yeah, I understand what you are saying, cool, cool, like, since I felt the same way when I was getting a lot of negative vibrations back on my being an unreasonable, anal retentive bitch, and that wasn’t fair.
Oh, she says, not really the same, because you are.