No problem. Did she write her name in the log, because it has to be documented when she was in an area where she doesn't have her own code and is thus not authorized to be there? Sure, she said.
Sure isn't yes. I should blog post about this more. But I digress.
And I get more inquisitive. Does she thus need me to get her out of the building? The exterior doors are also secured, and so if can't get through this door, she can't get through the outer door either. No, she says, she's got a code for that door.
Oh, and I'm thinking aloud here, it's weird that she has a code to leave the building but not a code to get through this part of the building. You see, if you are going through an area you don't have a code for, someone has to escort you. Because we're dealing with sensitive information. And she should know that, because she comes here all the time. And I'm saying all of this, stream of consciousness-like, while entering my code. And when I hit the enter button, this narcissistic bitch immediately just breezes through the door and melodically says-sings, "Thank you!"
Excuse me, little girl? I'm confused as to what the hell you're doing in an are you're not supposed to be in, and you just blow me off? I could not get her back for her attitude problem except to say, "You're welcome!" in that same goddamn annoying singsong way she threw in my face.
OK, I need to step back on this. I got triggered because in my, uh, deliberate way of going through what she's doing in my work area and why she needed my help getting out -- people who deliver specimens don't go through my area a whole lot, if at all -- it appears as though she completely ignored me. She didn't take my concerns of violating a secure space and doing what you're supposed to do seriously, and therefore she didn't take me seriously. That sucks, and I'm afraid I'll have to face her ugly-ass face and entitled attitude in the very near future.
But there is something beyond this I have to consider. Why did she blow me off? Could she just be a bitch? Sure. Is it possible that she was confused by me when I didn't understand how she needed me to get through this one door but not the exit door, and she didn't want to explain herself, or even didn't think she had to? Yeah. That would provide more evidence that she is an unserious, bitchy individual who isn't taking the job or the company seriously, however.
However, is it possible she felt ... threatened by me? That she didn't understand what I was talking about and that she wanted to get away from me as fast as possible? That certainly wasn't my intention, but I don't think that means she gets to waltz around anywhere she wants to go. Or, how about this: Did she think I was hitting on her? My God, that could be it, couldn't it? Well, she's a millennial or a Gen Z'er, and she's got bad skin, not to mention a pissy attitude, so if she felt that way, she's flattering herself. I'm scared that she felt scared that I was talking to her in a way that made her feel uncomfortable. Then that brings up larger hot-button issues like toxic masculinity (to my detriment) and generational fragility (to my benefit, and yeah, I want to believe this is true). What would really be frightening, then, is if she complains about me to someone. Then I'll have to defend myself, and however clearly and strenuously I speak my truth, the powers that be might not back me up.
Her fucking bullshit pissed me off so much that I had to drop by my boss's office to explain the situation and ask for some insight. He said that like with me, there are some areas where these delivery people have access and don't have access. OK, so I have areas I'm restricted from too; that makes sense. But if that's the case (and I hate that I didn't think of this until, well, last night), what in the fuckety-fuck was she doing in an area where she didn't have access? Yeah, I could escort her through, but really, the only people I see being escorted through our area are the cleaning crews and people hired to fix our copiers and scanners. Why in the hell is some delivery girl, who should know better, sauntering around where I work? I'm not the problem. She is.
Oh, God, little girl, why in the hell were you where you weren't supposed to be?
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