Guess She Was In Her Blue Period, Like She Was Fucking Pablo Picasso

Oh, this is so fucking passive-aggressive that I know she's a fucking Minnesota native.

Alright, so for work, we have an hourly count.  This count is done on paper, and so to make sure we count correctly for the ... oh, I'll just say "things" we have done we change colored pens.  It doesn't matter who -- or at least I thought it didn't matter -- but the idea is once we hit another hour, someone changes pens.  And it's at least to my understanding that the new pen should be a color contrasting the color of the previous pen.  Makes sense, right?

I did that.  For the new hour yesterday, I selected and used an orange pen because it contrasts with the blue pen used for the hour before.  Then I got done with more files and I went back to this sheet to sign them in ... and there was a different colored pen sitting there.  To be honest, I get plenty confused during this job, so I wanted to make sure I had the right pen and, well, was living in the right hour.  But then I noticed something: The first entry I marked on the sheet in orange was written over in blue, the color of the new pen laid out before me.  I did not notice this because the pen used the hour prior (which I did not select) was also blue.  It was a different shade of blue, but I had to look at the signatures really, really closely in order to see that, and really, they still looked pretty much the same.

"Isn't this the old color?" I think I sort of asked (or at least that is the gist of what I actually said) aloud to no one in particular.  And the woman I'm not sure about, who I blogged about in my previous blog post, said, "I changed it."

"To ... blue?"

"It's fine."

"Ah, it's the same color."

"No, it's not.  I can see it different just fine."  (It was her turn to check the sheet every hour.)

It was at that point where all the slights -- her calling me out on the flag I put up the day before, her whining to me about how it took me 15 minutes to go through this file of papers -- came flooding back in my head, packed themselves into a box with wrapping on it, and unwrapped itself with a message inside that says, "I'm a cunt."  Holy fuck, she actually had the goddamn gonads to change the color of a pen that I chose because she didn't like it.  How fucking petty is that?

I will offer up one argument in her favor, but it's weak and you should dismiss it as soon as you read it.  We need to make copies of this sheet, and bright pens don't show up on copies, as you may know.  The Woman I'm Not Sure About told me this in a passive-aggressive way a week ago when she went up to the sheet after I selected a yellow pen for the umpteenth time and went, "Oh, you and your yellow pens!"  I thought she was joking.  I thought this was a light-hearted moment that brought us closer as co-workers.  I had no fucking clue she actually was secretly pissed that I chose a brightly-colored pen.

This bullshit move is so juvenile that I shouldn't waste my time providing counter-arguments, but I'll do so anyway.  We need pens that are different colors from each other so we can provide accurate counts from hour to hour.  That they don't show up on copies doesn't matter to us because we're not the ones who get the copy -- and if I should care about this, I should have been told about this sooner.  And finally, why in the hell did she choose a pen the same color as the one before?  It would piss me off more than it would if she actually chose a pen that was not blue.  But she had to choose a different shade of blue??  She just couldn't choose green or purple or brown or black??  She unilaterally vetoed my color because she decided she knew better and to just fucking spite me; she chose the same blue but in a different shade because she's fucking weird.

You know, if it's determined (not by her, ffs) that I can't choose the right color of pen, just tell me I can't choose the pens, OK?  Or throw the pinks and the reds and oranges and the yellows in the trash so I don't get to them and fuck everything up.  To go behind my back and say, "Eh, he chose the wrong fucking pen, I'm gonna change it" when no one else has done that to me and when no one else has told me not to choose a bright pen ... oh, that's such bullshit.

This really puts a crimp at my job.  I am not looking forward to going back into work and seeing her petty-ass face again.  Because I have no doubts anymore: The Woman I'm Not Sure About I am totally sure about now.  She's a bitch.  A catty, immature, passive-aggressive bitch.  And now I have to keep my distance from her.

And all because she didn't like the color of the pen I chose!  Un-fucking-believable. ...