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?


Question: Is it bad that I want my co-worker’s new business venture to fail miserably?

Like, I would probably be secretly excited if it burned down.

That’s bad, right?

I try to be a good person. I really do. Usually I think it’s horrible to wish something bad on someone, no matter what they’ve done. But I cannot escape the amazingly satisfying sense of schadenfreude when something bad happens to this guy. Even retroactively. And it’s a problem, because, were it not for his lovely wife and beautiful children, who I’m sure love him and whom I’m sure he loves, I…

…well, I hate that I’m saying this, but…


I wouldn’t care if he got-hit-by-a-bus-tomorrow thereIsaidit.

One of my friends told me that someone beat this guy up in a bar for being a jerk, years before I ever met him. I love that.

Here’s the thing: this guy tried to get me fired, and very nearly succeeded. He spends fully 3/4 of his day at work with his feet up on his desk and earbuds in his ears, surfing the internet.

I’m not kidding.

Then he complains about what other people have done.

He sits in meetings, with between one and four managers present, and spends the whole time screwing around on his iPhone. Never looks up.

One time, he must have left his phone somewhere, so he spent most of the meeting cleaning out his wallet, and the rest of it trying to determine whether he could maneuver a plastic fork to hit himself in the nose using only his mouth.


We used to work with each other directly on projects every day, and he spent every single day treating me like crap. By the time I’d worked with him for about six months, I cried at least two nights a week on the way home. Two times, for a grand total of 14 seconds and using exactly no bad words, I stood up for myself, and that’s how I almost got fired. In actual fact, the choice my managers gave me was:

Choice 1: take a huge demotion and 23% pay cut and change from a normal shift to a crappy life-sacrificing one, by which you also lose benefits and vacation/holiday time…


Choice 2: lose your job.

…Despite the fact that our own bosses had told me several times that they think he’s an ass.  (I will supply the caveat here that one of my bosses doesn’t like me and that contributed as well. And I will grant you that when you have two co-workers who don’t like you, it usually means you’re the problem, but after months and months of self-flagellation and struggle, I decided that’s not true. There are lots of other co-workers – past and present – who have problems with these two.)

Sometimes when this guy walks by, I have a really powerful urge to smack him in the back of the head. Or trip him.

So he and his wife have this new business. It opened Saturday, when it was quite literally eleventy-two degrees.

The air conditioner died.

Mwahahahahahahahahahaha! I did a little dance in my head when I overheard that. I might have accidentally smiled a little bit.

But a bunch of people at work  asked him all day on Monday, “Oh, how did it go? Was it great? Oh, that’s so great!” And I know for a fact that some of these people hate his breathing guts. And he keeps talking about it, all excited-but-too-cool-for-school. And people keep saying they’re going to stop by and check out the place.

We don’t speak, so I didn’t have to fake any enthusiasm. When you work with a grown man who goes out of his way to give a wide berth on the rare occasion you both populate the same hallway, and who absolutely will not make eye contact or speak if you find yourselves in the break room at the same time, there’s a tacit understanding that you won’t give a flying fig about each other in any other regard.

It’s a shame, because I’veI known his wife since before they got married and I held his oldest child when he was a tiny baby. And then there’s the other reason the whole thing makes me sad – besides my casual friendship with his wife and the complete derailing of my professional life, which was accompanied by a tremendous and sometimes crippling anxiety:

It makes me a lesser person to hate him so much.

Why am I so worried about my karma? This guy is the biggest a-hole I’ve ever known, but I’m worried about being a bad person because I can’t stand him. Stupid conscience. What’s the use of good schadenfreude if my Catholic guilt is constantly getting in the way? I’m not allowed to have one sworn enemy? Just one? I fought it for a long time. The whole time we were working on projects together, I fought the hate. I gave him every bit of credit due to him for being good at his job. I thought I was falling short because he wasn’t happy with my end of things.

And then, at some point, after the near-firing, after all the crying, after a little devilish encouragement from other people who also hate him, I gave in.

But of course, every time I have one of these evil little thoughts, I have to start evaluating myself and asking myself why I’m so hellbent on vengeance. Passive vengeance, mind you; I’d never actually do something to cause harm.

But the fantasies are so powerful…

Is there anybody you hate? Please tell me about them so I don’t feel so bad.
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