caminante haciendo camino
friday's suckage recounted
2004-08-15 | 11:32 p.m.

Last Friday sucked. No really. On a suckage scale of 1-10, last Friday was about an 11.

The weekend was easy and relaxing, erasing most of the taste of Fridayís suckage.

But, since tomorrow means a return to the scene of the suckage, I thought Iíd recount the horror in the hopes of purging the residual ill will and staring fresh on Monday.

The suckage was entirely the doing of my co-worker. Iíve mentioned her before. Sheís known on these pages as MM.

MM is moody as hell. Even worse than her moodiness is her assumption that the rest of the office, nay the rest of the universe, must surely revolve around her ever-changing disposition.

I donít set my clock around some elseís piss-poor mood. So my solution this year has been to stay away from her as much as possible. Weíve had a civilized, and at times even amicable, work relationship. But I donít socialize with her at all. I rarely seek her out for anything. I stay to myself, do my work, say good morning and good night, and, as far as Iím concerned, this works well.

MMís moodiness seems to escalate when weíre out of town on calendar. Two weeks ago we were in Pasadena and, sure enough, she was in a full scale snit. We got into a really stupid argument when she wouldnít let me use the key card to access our office. Her ďreasonsĒ for being mad were so ludicrous that I literally laughed at her and walked away. Since then, I had been sticking to my normal game plan of avoiding her.

Last Friday, after going over a week without saying a word to me, she comes to my office and asks if she could have a word with me. Sure, I say. She enters and closes my office door.

Her spiel went something like this: Whatever personal problem you have with me, we could talk it out, but I donít think your personal issues with me should be affecting your work for the judge.

Iím sure the expression on my face went something like this: huh?

I responded with something like: MM, I donít feel the need to ďdiscussĒ any personal issues with you, and I really donít know what youíre talking about with regard to anything affecting my work.

Her gripe was that I had two of her dispositions on my desk for editing and cite checking, and she thought that I should have had them done already.

What the fuck?!?!

I told her, in what I thought was a commendably calm voice considering that I was seriously thinking about chucking one of my marble bookends at her head: Listen dear, my work product and my work priorities are simply none of your concern. That is solely between me and the judge. The judge knows precisely what is on my desk, what I have been working on, and when everything will be done. But, again, that is between me and him. It does not concern you at all.

She hemmed and hawed a bit more. I continued to think that a marble bookend to the forehead would be a good way of getting her out of my office. She finally left in a huff.

I was livid.

Luckily it was lunch time. I was meeting my best friend from law school for lunch. I vented to her and felt calmer when I returned to the office.

But it was a false sense of calm, for the suckage was to continue.

Later that afternoon, as I was walking to my office, she literally yelled down the hall, demanding to know whether I was done with the edit. I ignore her and return to my desk.

She chases me down into my office and proceeds to tell me, that I should stop with these childish games.

I start to wonder, does she even hear herself?!?! Has she been on meds this whole time and has recently stopped taking them?!?! Iím completely baffled. But Iím also mad as hell.

I let her have it. How dare she question my professionalism and work ethic by accusing me of interfering with her work because of some personal issue I have with her. Whatever I think of her - and believe me, my opinion of her couldnít get much lower at this point Ė I would never presume to question her work product or her work ethic, because I know itís none of my fucking business. She works for the judge, not for me. And her coming in here, with her unfounded accusations is offensive. I will not put up with it. She needs to leave my office now.

After several very loud demands for her to leave my office, she finally did. But, hell. The bitch made me lose my cool. I donít like losing my cool, especially at work.

I still shake my head in disbelief. And it still makes me mad as hell when I think about it.

What in the hell was she thinking?

Who the fuck did she think she was?

How much blood would I have had to clean off my wall if I had given in to the urge and thrown my marble bookend at her head?

I have the feeling that the satisfaction would have been worth any messy clean ups.

I still donít know what set her off. Our equilibrium of silence and minimal contact had been working well for almost a year. The only thing I do know for sure is that I have only 19 more days on this job, with this psycho-bitch for a co-worker. Thank the gods.



Listening To: night sounds
Reading: nothing much
Feeling: some residual ire

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