It’s My Friday. I Can B*^%h If I Want To.

I’ve noticed a pattern over the last few weeks wherein I turn out to be really pissy on Wednesdays. Wednesdays are my Fridays, and apparently, after five days of my noisy, insular, deadline-oriented workplace, I have reached my limit. My limit is different from what it was a few years ago, when I had a higher-stress job I twistedly loved and thrived in. Somewhere along the line, my tolerance for that waned and I had to drop back. I don’t regret it in the slightest. But apparently I just can’t take the little madnesses anymore.

For example, yesterday…

-I would not have minded stabbing in the eye the coworker who kept sniffling every ten seconds. Yes, she has a cold. And yes, I really like her. But she was sniffling every ten seconds, and that makes me homicidal on a good day. You could be Santa, I’d still want to stab you in the eye.

-If the basement wherein I work had windows, I would have hurled my computer out of one. It crashed twice in the first hour and a half I was at work, which necessitated two reboot attempts that take at least 10 minutes apiece. This is after the initial boot-up, which takes 20 minutes because I have to log in, then find out whether one of the applications I need is going to function properly, discover it won’t, which means it’s lost connectivity to the server, and then reboot. This is every day. Wednesday, I had had enough. And the IT guys can’t fix it because the problem is the company I work for is too cheap to buy the newest version of the programs we use, and there are no longer patches available for the ones we run.

-I wanted to pull the hair of one of the interns. The one who used to be a stripper, not the one who called herself “mini-hottie”– she’s gone now. Yesterday, the former stripper was wandering around trying to get someone to eat the cookies she was carrying. In her hands. “Eat this!” she kept whining. Occasionally the tattoo that stretches across her lower back showed as she reached toward people with the cookies. Nobody told her they didn’t want them because her hands had fondled them all up.

-I want to say all sorts of terrible, mean but true things to the guy who chews food and gum louder than anybody I know. I sit five feet from him and I can hear everything he sloshes around in there. He smacks his lips louder than I would think is humanly possible. I’m practicing right now and I don’t think I’m doing nearly as loudly as he does. He’s also a walking malapropism. He says he wants to throw caution “in the air” instead of “to the wind,” and “If you may” instead of “if you will,” and “be that as it is” instead of “be that as it may.” He says “long story short” and proceeds to talk for a full five minutes. He says “a’pposed” instead of “supposed” and “gots” instead of “has.” He never. Stops. Talking. He injects himself into other people’s conversations, loudly, often, and having no idea what they’re really talking about. When people ask him to tone down the volume, he says, “I didn’t know we worked in a library,” and mopes. He is wildly inappropriate and offensive. When he talks to professional, educated people outside of our shop on the phone, you’d think he was talking to his best friend from college: “Hey baby, how you doin’?” “What’s up, m—–f—-er?” He yawns and stretches and blows his nose loudly. When you ask him how he is, his response is the same every time: “Livin’ the dream.” Every conversation is a “good talk.” He cannot spell anything. Or pronounce anything. He just basically looks at a word and takes a shot, and whatever syllables or letters make it out of his mouth are apparently good enough. He is obnoxious. He was raised by wolves. He is a used car dealer who has somehow been separated from his tweed jacket and white wingtips. I want to bash him in the head with a phone.

-I wanted to tell my former-as-of-last-night co-worker exactly what I think of her self-centered way of operating. She is leaving to take another job, and while I genuinely like her as a person, she’s one of those people who is constantly freaking out about projects and turning everything about anyone into something about herself. Example: yesterday was another co-worker’s birthday, and he took the day off. Her way of wishing him a happy one was to post on his Facebook page that he was missing her going away party. This is better than her frequent status updates in which she reports “her” project successes. As though nobody else had anything to do with them. And people “like” these updates. They post comments like, “Way to go!” and “Woohoo!” You have no idea the restraint it has taken for me not to post a comment that says, “Wow, and you did it all by yourself!”

It seems that, once a person reaches his or her late 20s, it is apparently too late for them to ever learn social graces. The rest of us have grown up and now keep our mouths shut rather than saying something that could make things uncomfortable in the work environment. (More uncomfortable than when the guy behind me makes comments about how hot some of his co-workers are.) If one has not learned by the age of 27 that one should not manhandle food and then attempt to give it away, one will never know it. If one has not learned to filter, one never will. If one has not learned humility and grace, consider it a dream.

I sort of think that, if the rest of us were allowed to, just once, haul off and say exactly that which needs to be said, maybe these people would be struck by the realization that they are annoying and should work on that.

Then again, if everyone went by my theory, all of you would comment forthwith and posthaste that I am a total critical b*^%h.

But I told you: It’s Wednesdays. Today I’m totally fine.

 What do you want to tell someone who irritates you? Do you have a day of the week when you’re more easily annoyed than others?

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24 thoughts on “It’s My Friday. I Can B*^%h If I Want To.

  1. WOW………………. Let me just digest all of that.

    WOW.

    Deep breath. I hope my comment is spelt right, angled carefully and non-offensive.

    What a day! What terrible co-workers! Do they not read your blog? I hope not…. What a challenge tomorrow would be if they did.

    Hugs needed? Hell – I’m hugging you anyway. Hug ‘n’ duck (out of the way) in case you lunge at me.

    • Jamie, you’re a doll. It was Wednesday… and I found a website full of Glamour Shots gone bad and laughed myself into a better mood. I’m fine. And no, my coworkers don’t know I have a blog. I hope! Though if they did, the ones who would read it would know exactly who I was talking about, and would agree!

      • Also, I totally get your “I hope my comment is spelt right, angled carefully and non-offensive” point. I have a problem with people who can’t spell or pronounce things and don’t seem to care to try. It’s an elitism on my part, I admit. In terms of offensiveness, I am not at all easily offended, but weeks and months and years of added-up offensive comments apparently do take their toll!

  2. Have to agree with you, if you haven’t learned it by your late 20’s, it’s going to be tough to change. When I taught fifth grade, many times I had to do impromptu lessons on manners and what was inappropriate behavior. Then at parent-teacher night, if their parents even bothered to come, the light bulb came on. Teaching basic consideration of others was an ongoing lesson. Unfortunately, people like your co-workers are everywhere. So annoying.

    • So true, they are everywhere. I’m grateful I was raised well. As one of my coworkers (who is not the slightest bit annoying) often says, quoting “Bull Durham:” “The world is made for people not cursed with self-awareness.”

  3. Um, I can’t answer your question just yet. . . I’m still trying to figure out how my ex-husband is on the east coast working in the same place as you . . . you described him perfectly. . . he is the guy who chews his food to loud and EVERYTHING else you wrote. . . I’m dead serious. My ex husband was raised by wolves and has somehow been separated from his tweed jacket and white wingtips. . . . I would laugh hysterically if I wasn’t so saddened to learn that there are more of him out there.

    • Ha! He’s married to his first wife, so I don’t think this is your ex… but I’m sorry for you anyway! It’s funny… we love someone so much, and then after a while we realize either he has turned into a complete pig, or he’s been one all along and we somehow missed it. I actually like the guy as a person. It’s his many, many bad habits I find irritating after 40 hours. I’m sure there are things about me that irritate people, too. Just not THOSE things!

  4. God, I wouldn’t survive your job for the day. You would be seeing me on the National News at 6:00 doing something like offing myself by choking on one of tatoo girl’s fondled cookies. Has there ever been a suicide by germy cookies, before?

    You work with pigs. Really…if I can’t win the lottery (and seemingly, I can’t), I hope you do so you can tell those cretins off on your way out of the basement from hell.

  5. This is why I so identify with Edgar Allen Poe’s story, The Tell-Tale Heart. Sometimes the dripping, trickle of water that is others’ annoying habits creates the Grand Canyon of true madness in our lives.

    The only thing is, I really don’t want to know what I’m doing that drives everybody else insane.

    • YES. Tis true. And that’s why I said I fully expected everyone to point out how critical I was being in my post. I suspect it’s also why we don’t point things out to others; we don’t want them tell us what they really think, either!

  6. The sad thing is, if you ever spoke up and told them exactly what they were doing wrong they 1) would not ‘get it’ and 2) be offended and hurt.

    Last week when I was trying to explain something to a new co-worker my boss was standing there tapping a board. I said, will you stop that, I am trying to talk and you are being rude.

    Everybody laughed, but I was speaking truth.

    • Probably true. And I guess, on a Thursday, I can understand that. Like Peg pointed out, maybe I wouldn’t want to hear what they would have to say about me, either. I’d like to think I would. But I’d probably be lying. 🙂 You were right to say what you did to your boss, though.

  7. I would not last a day in a basement – my skin crawls when I cannot see outside. Your co-workers sound like former co-workers of mine, though. And like you said, not boring.

  8. OK. The sniffer would drive me crazy. You could try leaving an assortment of anonymous antihistamines and cold products on her desk. I once had a coworker whose office mate had body odor. He bought an Airwick, and every time he pulled up the wick. Eventually his officemate got the hint. One of the best things about being self-employed (not to mention retired) is that I’m in charge of my own computing equipment. It’s also one of the worst things. I’ve always had a preference for cookies handles by ex-strippers but then again, I’m a guy … I use the fifteen minute rule when I drop food on the floor. Here’s what makes me crazy about people like your noisy chewing, over-talking, malaprop dropping co-worker … they seem happy being the way they are. Self-promoting narcissists also drive me crazy which is why I’m don’t care much for Facebook (AND when I self-promote one of my posts there, no one notices). Social graces, I am afraid, are things of the past.

    Being retired brings a randomness to the appearance of my curmudgeon because frequently, all the days are the same, no matter how I try to schedule my time to make it appear that I’m accomplishing something. So, for example, yesterday (Friday) I was in an awful mood … only Muri could put up with me … and only if I kept my mouth shut. Mondays can be bad because after sixty plus years of working, I “should” be going to work but I’m going to the freaking park. Don’t get me wrong … some days it’s great. But some days every single person going by, from the dog walkers to the boot camp Moms pushing their baby carriages hear the wrath of my Inner Curmudgeon. Usually, he wants to say, “Hey you, self-centered, spoiled, too-affluent, pathetic dog-loving loser! Get a life!” Those are the days I don’t feel like I have one. Hmm.

    Enjoyed your post a lot.

    • It’s Saturday now, my Monday, and I’ll confess: I’ve been irritated with some elements of work today. Enough to make it slightly obvious. Not rudely. Just…tersely. But I think it’s hormones. 😛 It will be interesting to see what happens when I have a different job – and then when I have none at all. Wait, what am I saying? I’m 34. I’m never going to retire.

  9. You can bitch, but can you also bitch-slap? Because that’s what I’d like to introduce to the workforce. A good, mid-week bitch-slap for the people who annoy me. Namely clients. Can we start a movement?

  10. Love this total and the post was very entertaining. I bust out laughing here a few times I had to close the door. I can’t take it when people sniff. I am like why holding it back get a tissue and blow it out. You should next time give her some tissue. I done that in the past for my insanity. My goodness the all about me people. I can’t stand that. It is like telling a person a problem you may have and they said “yes, I know how your feeling…it happened to me to yadda yadda yadda”. Now you stop crying thinking I thought I was the one with the bad day, lol.

    Out of everyone the obnoxious guy is my favorite. I could mentally imagine him really good. He would be the type that give me a good laugh each day in the office, lol. Now to your questions: I don’t have any particular day when I am annoyed. I take life at times as a joke and try not to make anyone send me to my grave quicker than I should by stressing me out. When someone irritate the living dickens out of me I mentally picture getting rid of their body and smile at them in a twisted way when they pass me. People think I am always happy because I am smiling, LOL, they don’t know I am plotting, lol, sorry I am a bit twisted:)

    • Thanks! Glad I could make you laugh. Sometimes I do the tissue thing, but I really like this girl – she’s a friend of mine, so I didn’t want to be overly passive-agressive about it. She’s now lost her voice, poor thing. But no more sniffling. Mr. Obnoxious does make me laugh, but apparently after about 32 hours of him in a week I can’t take it anymore and start fantasizing about throwing things at his head. Sigh. I’m only human. (Love your plot.)

  11. The worst part is that, if you were to go crazy one day and say what you (and others) really think, that person would not get a light bulb of understanding at all. They would think that you were nuts! People just don’t see themselves clearly.

    • You and Jodi Stone are on the right track. I’m sure there would be blank looks, or dirty looks, or “whatever” dismissals. It’s to be expected, since these are people who weren’t blessed with self-awareness. I think if someone were to tell me what annoyed them about me, I might be prickly about it in the moment (depending on how it was presented), but man would I give it some serious thought for approximately the rest of my life.

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