My kingdom for a sharpened sword and the will to run it through its target purposefully and valiantly.

I dedicate this late post to the bitch who better be enjoying herself on vacation. Nah, for her, there will be no stabbing, as I know the need to rest (as I feel it now). She really can’t help what happened in her wake as she flew to parts unknown (OK, Florida, but I know it fairly little).

BUT, there is another who is verily, truly stab worthy. She’s itching for it, that one. She’s spent two days cockblocking (so to speak) me at work. Sometimes in the course of a day, I MUST speak with the panhandler (oops, I mean brilliant scientist) for whom I manage research grants. You know, like, the guy writes something, and the people who read that something might think he meant something else that will cost them money or otherwise cause an auditor swarm; it’s my job to fix that something so it says what it says. So, when I’m tinkering this way, occassionally I gotta, I mean really and truly have to, speak with the source, you know, break the kindergarten wall of the telephone game right down. And, usually, these respected scientists are cool with my calls, since if I can’t understand it (and I fancy myself above average), there is some moke down in the food change who will surely fuck it up. My teeny hassle generally saves them some serious doom in the future. So, as the kids say, it’s all good.

Enter the way-too-fucking eager to please, destined to out martyr all of the blessed saints and prophets, “let me show my stuff, please can I, huh, can I huh, can I?” administrative assistant (which I hear tell folks used to call a secretary back in the day), who is here to save us all, lucky kid. Yeah, there was no fucking way that kid was going to let me get straight to the old scientist-type, bosserooni on her watch. Nosiree, Bob. I can tell her and she’ll tell him and I need to remember he’s really swamped because he has to write this shit (I mean brilliance). So, she’ll get back to me tomorrow, since she has a couple of meetings to go to and won’t be back at her desk until 5 p.m.

Right. I mean R….I….G…H…T. That’s exactly how it’s going to play out.

Here’s where I know for a scientific fact (get it-science, whoo, I’m a riot), anyway I strongly suspect I’m a big fucking asshole. It’s a twitch inside my brain, but the minute someone who’s been here a few weeks, who hasn’t lived on the planet long enough to hav to get what you call experience, and most importantly wasn’t hired to do my job (which was made very, very clear at the interview and hiring process, not just by me), begins any interactions by explaining how things work to me, I get nutty. I feel it almost physically. It’s not really a power trip thing, I swear to God, it’s more like the really irrational fights you get into with your brother, when you’re a kid, about something you absolutely know the answer to, but he won’t listen. It’s the infuration of knowing something as fact, and your older sibling just mocking you.

As a kid, I would yell, or tell mom, or hit (actually not much), or throw a beverage (only at Danny), something cathartic. Can’t do that at work, though. So, I do the next best thing, I go to lengths to prove them wrong. And, I do it in a horribly treacly “just helping out pal” kind of way. It’s truly insipid. Really.

“Um, yeah, thanks, ah, now that I’ve talked to your boss (because ain’t an assistant invented yet who can best me at the blocking game), he’s asked me to ask you to give me those forms. Yeah, why don’t you go ahead and confirm. That would be great. Thanks so much. I mean it, we couldn’t do this without your help.”

“Oh, OK, so he confirmed, that’s great. Yup, I got your email with all those forms. Yeah, thanks for doing that. So, I got a chance to look everything over. Just so you know, I used the instructions, you know, and the table of contents. So, just a little thing, but I swapped E. and F. Oh, I’m not saying that’s wrong, I just think it’s easier to stick with the instructions. I know how it’s so much, though, to, you know, read all the instructions. So, sure, just let your boss know that I’ve been reading for a long time now, so I can help you out in any way.”

Alright, I’m not that much of an asshole. But, I do get perverse pleasure when people who are more no-it-all than I am, and that’s not an easy thing to be, fuck up. I am right there waiting to point that out.

Here’s a tip for the kids, though, who might just be starting out in the work world. If someone is introduced to you at your job interview as one of the managers, and you do get a job (by the way, don’t be sure everyone voted, especially if you are less than honest in the interview), you might want to get to know a little bit about what she thinks is her responsibility, before you tell her and your boss that she’s wrong, and you’ll take care of that from now on. See, we get to vote, too.

And, here’s a tip for folks hiring, if during an interview someone has a very elaborate story about how they had to quit her last job, that involves staying up late, performing an exorcism and saving mankind, but her boss never thanked her, and instead was angry that staying up all night was even theoretically necessary (let alone giving him no shot at mankind saving). And, really, she’s just looking to work with people who appreciate her. Yeah, if that happens, bar the door the chick is a fucking loon!