Saturday, December 24, 2016

I Hate This Woman (Scheduled Post)

I know saying that isn't in the Christmas spirit.  Also, I have never spoken to this woman at all.  But in a way that is evidence that this woman is a bitch.  I state my case now.

I remember seeing her around from work.  She not only kept to herself, I could totally tell that she had this dismissive attitude towards me.  I knew, deep down inside, that she looked down on me, and that she wanted to have nothing to do with me.

That standoffishness continues this season, but we have had a few more run-ins.  First, I had to knock to get into this room.  Unbeknownst to me, This Bitch was filling in for another co-worker and training two new people.  This co-worker is someone I know and like; really, she's an angel, nothing fazes her.  In other words, the person I know is probably the exact opposite of This Bitch.  So I knock and open up the door and excuse myself as I get, uh, wet naps or something.  At that point it was clear to me that she was saying something to these two trainees and I interrupted.  And instead of saying, "Oh, that's OK," or something else normal, professional people would say, she just looked at me for a second, then went back to telling them things.  Whatever, bitch.  I'm not looking for her to drop everything to help me.  But pleasantries would be nice, and it's obvious that is beyond her.  And I know that the shit she "taught" these two was wrong; as soon as the co-worker was back, she had to undo all the crap This Bitch told them and told them how to do things the right way, I know it.

The kicker came Thursday, as a result of my OCD and some very unfortunate timing.  I get coffee at a very different area of my workplace.  There is a break room close to me and there is coffee made there every day.  But I don't go there because the coffee is brewed into those huge opaque pots, and too often, when I'm pumping the coffee into my cup, I get to the end of the pot.  You know what happens next, right?  The pump runs out of liquid and makes this "WHAAA-HUUUUUCK!" sound, and that's when those goddamn coffee grounds get sucked through the pump and into my cup.  And so I wind up eating those fucking grounds when I get done with my coffee, and it pisses me off so, so much.

So, to avoid that, I have decided to go to the other side of my floor to get my coffee.  There, the coffee is brewed into those clear glass pots, you know, those ... conventional pots of coffee.  That way I know exactly how much coffee is left.  Unfortunately, once in a while it looks as though I am taking the last of the coffee.  I'll be honest: When that happens, I don't make another pot.  I usually leave just enough to convince myself that the person who takes coffee next will have enough, but will decide she or he has to make a pot.  Total dick move, you're right.

Thursday I thought it was time to be a grown-up, so even though I had to go back to work and do something sort of on deadline, after I got my coffee, I made another pot.  I have done this once or twice before, but in the past I have just walked away.  Honestly, I should not have done that because I have no idea if I have someone screwed up the pot of coffee.  Really, the worst thing that could happen is that I leave so much coffee that the next pot overflows.  It's very possible that I have left a mess when I make a pot of coffee, and that other people would have had to clean it up in my place.  Besides, what usually happens with this pot and department is that after it's brewed, someone takes out the filter with the used grounds.  See, I know I haven't done that before, and therefore I may be considered rude for that.

So yeah, for all those reasons I spent ten minutes looking at the pot of coffee as it slowly filled up.  It got real fucking close, but the water stopped just before it overflowed.  Like an adult, I dumped the coffee grounds and cleaned out the filter holder.

Later that morning, however, I was curious: Did anyone take the pot of coffee I was brewing?  I don't know why I was afraid that my coffee wasn't "popular" enough to use.  I mean, it's coffee -- the workers there were going to take the coffee that's been made.  But I ... wanted to know if people were taking it, I don't know!

So, just to get up and break the routine of looking at papers, I got up and started walking towards the coffee maker.  Just as I was about to reach it, about ten yards away, I see This Bitch walking in that same direction, wearing her yoga shit.  Again.  (This Bitch seems to spend parts of a lot of days doing yoga, because I see her in yoga clothes often.  Whatever she's doing, it's not working, and she knows it.)  And I'm thinking, "God!"  But at this point it was too late to turn away because I would look like a strange dork just walking, stopping, then walking in the other direction.  So I walk, oh, six yards behind her and act like I'm walking with a purpose.

But goddammit, she does the very worst thing: She stops by the coffee maker, just so she could get the towels from the electronic dispenser.  Then she looks to her left -- at me.  I stop.  And then she looks back ... and looks at me again.  And fucking Christ, just to avoid her and her fucking bad vibes, I do what I didn't want to do and suddenly walked in the other direction, like a strange dork.

Man, all I wanted to do was look at the coffee pot.  From seven yards away it looked empty, but I wanted to go right up to look at me.  In peace.  And not with That Bitch getting in my way.  But since she coincidentally was right there, I lose all composure and act strangely in public again.  So now everyone has this idea I just wander around like a crazy person.  It's her fault.

She hates me.  I know she hates me.  And she's dying to show again how much she hates me.  So that means I have to ready myself for the next run-in.  I don't know how I will react, especially since I know she saw me do ... that.  But I can't let her get another one up on me.  I just hope I rise to the occasion when that comes -- and to do so without jeopardizing any chance I have of latching on to an actual full-time job there, which I still really, really want.

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