May 15, 2006

The Trouble With Coworkers

Do you ever just go through a day feeling all pissy? That was me today. I’m losing patience with almost everyone, and wish they would all just get the hell over it.

Today my boss and I were commiserating over a few of the people we work with. One of them is all pouty because she didn’t get a promotion. She’s been pouty about that for two weeks now. She’s walking around treating us all like shit because she didn’t get the position on mahogany row. She doesn’t understand that the reason she didn’t get the position on mahogany row is because she has a reputation of being pouty when she doesn’t get her way. What makes matters worse is that the person who did get the job was her closest coworker who held the same position as she does. In the spirit of tip-toeing around the emotional cripples, my boss arranged the promotion celebration for the winner of the position to coincide with Pouty-Girl’s vacation in Mexico.

Another of the workers is just plain inept. His wife, who also worked in the agency, retired last summer and he has been a basket case ever since. He never does anything the same way twice which results in his doing almost everything wrong. I am secretly responsible for double-checking his work which, as you can well imagine, torques me off. Why should I have to do his job and my job? This guy is also financially unprepared to retire, and he knows it. He’s 55 years old. He’s in debt up to his eyeballs for all the toys he has. His motivation for retiring is simply the fact that he can’t function without his darling (read: controlling) wife situated within a 10-foot radius of him.

This guy also has an eating disorder. He can’t stop compulsively shoveling the food into his wussy little mouth. He does his best to work off the food with physical activity, but that just makes me hate him more. He goes on walks just prior to seeing clients, resulting in him presenting himself with a sweat-soaked shirt and reeking of moist skin. Worse yet, he doesn’t wear an undershirt, so his man-nipples (or "mipples," as Boyfriend calls them) appear in all their glory through the damp and clinging shirt. God!

Both Pouty-Girl and Mr. Mipple refuse to take responsibility for themselves. Pouty blames her former friend and co-worker for kissing up to the interviewers for the very prestigious and high-paying job Pouty didn’t get. Mr. Mipple blames the computer for all his blunders. He also claims he is expected to remember too much and therefore should be excused from doing his job properly.

I’m sick and tired of Pouty’s passive-aggressive attempts to get attention and sympathy, and I’m sick and tired of smelly Mr. Mipple and his whiney-ass, it’s-not-my-fault attitude. My dad always said, “never get in a pissing match with a skunk.” These two better heed this advice or one day soon they’ll both go home crying. I'll make sure of that.

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