Dudes, I am embracing a new optimistic, yet disciplined, approach to human contact. But I need to get last week off my chest as it made me wish to throw in the towel, bedsheets, rugs, and drapes. That is why I’m sitting here wondering if I could be Jaguar Paw for one day to avenge my wasted time, my respect for a client, and my J Crew suit.
Remember how I took out my horse whip and showed guys a thing or two about I know what about them.
Well, lookie whose turn it is! Yeeeeaaaah, you know who you are, bitches!
I’m exposing you to my blogger friends so they can point and stare.
Biaaatch #1: I spent 3 hours sharing my office with a client. She’s actually a client of a client, lives in China (which is a sensible thing for a Chinese chick to do), and has a free morning before she heads home. The boss needed someone who is bubbly, loves international anything, and just has a merry ol’ time with anyone. Well, that person was away with a sick kid. Selfish cow!
Guess who ended up babysitting the stranger from yonder? Yep, you guessed it, your neighbourhood nomad Groucho. I was nice, dammit. I asked those questions that usher in social niceties and make it bearable for me to mix with odious people. She grimaces, purses her lips, and blows hot air out of her nose. It’s 9a.m., I’m in a good mood. Whatevs.
Hour 1: She stares, I stare.
Hour 2: She looks at the wall, I look at the opposite wall.
(Doesn’t this bitch need a bathroom break or something?)
Hour 3: My boss walks over to take her out to lunch and look who has a functioning voicebox and complains of missing a chance to read portfolio x. Did she ask for anything while I was running my silly mouth about our lovely city and upcoming festivals? No! Then what the hell was she haunting my little space in the world for?
I felt guilty for a split second. Maybe there was some cultural thing that I missed, maybe I should’ve cleared my throat twice, tapped my shoes thrice, twirled my fine form, and then asked her royal tightassness if she would please, find it in her we’re-the-21st-century heart, to tell me what she needs. NO. Instead, the bitch wastes my time and forces me to break my promise of being nice to my boss 5 days in row. I hope India invades.
Bizaaatch #2: Dry cleaner. Tattered suit. Enough said. I call my sister mid-fight. I’m going to kill her, I say. My sister insists there are a few people worthy of spending eternity in hell for, she is not one of them. I’m not convinced. I go back to the store. I’m the one getting cussed out. Yes, I can read the sign. Yes, it says I’m entitled to 5X the washing fee. No, I don’t want your fucking 50 bucks. What do you want, then? She whines. Your fucking head on a platter so I can throw it out of the window while I’m on the freeway.
Would it kill people to say they’re sorry if they ruin your property? I apologize if I so much as walk beside you in an aisle. She should’ve just said sorry and left it at that. Now I’ve been verbally assaulted. At the lunch hour. After babysitting snake client. In the middle of the frigging day and it is 100 degrees outside. I am going to sue. Yep, my 3rd time. I’m actually thinking of going back to school and getting a law degree. I can file all my lawsuits before lunch.
Bitches!
