CMcL

In the unlikely event that anyone is actually still reading these, here is an ACTUAL TALE of the BossLady instead of just a bunch of uninteresting backstory. This one is a classic.

So we moved into the new office this week. The phones got set up, furniture was delivered and professionally assembled. I lugged my computer, printer, scanner, and various folders and sundries over and set everything up, hooked up the fax, yadda. A couple of days went by in which a few items had to be straightened out, like the new wireless network courtesy of yours truly, and then we were good to go.

Except, we’ve got bugs.

Little gnats or fruit flies are bugging the crap out of me every single day. They’re the kind that are too small to have any fear of humans, so they’ll fly right up your nose out of sheer curiosity or perversity, I’m not sure which.

BossLady assures me that there weren’t any bugs there before, and we hazarded a guess that maybe they came with the furniture, somehow — another person surmised the same thing, that the bugs were in the boxes and nested briefly when the furniture was assembled, and then started coming out to be a pain in my ass. I suggested spraying with pesticide. This suggestion was brushed off, as the bugs would surely “go away after a while.”

Meanwhile, every day I kill several of them. All day long I’m clapping my hands on them, or swatting them on the desk. It’s really freaking aggravating, particularly because I really hate bugs. Bugs freak me out. I can’t stand having bugs on me. Seriously.

This morning, BossLady brought me some supplies that I had requested — finally — and as I was unpacking them I killed yet another bug. As I did so, I said, “GOD!”

BossLady turned around in mid-stride and said, “Could you not make so much noise?”

I stared.

BossLady went on to berate me for being so loud about my bug-killing, and said that it “adds to the stress.” She was talking to me as if I was a child, and I stared at her, with unveiled open-mouthed disbelief. She knows I hate bugs. She knows about the time I woke up in my lover’s apartment covered with termites and how it pretty much scarred me for life as far as having bugs on me.

I said, “I don’t like bugs.”

She continued, pissily, that she doesn’t want me making “so much noise” about it and demonstrated how she felt by slapping the wall VERY loudly a few times. “How would you like that?” As if my swatting bugs on my desk was anywhere near that loud, which it is not.

I repeated, “I don’t like bugs on me.”

She then pointed out that they are “just little bugs” and there’s no need to make a “big production” about them.

I repeated, “I don’t like bugs on me.”

She advised me, “Don’t share the love.” She was obviously quite pleased with herself for this quip.

I repeated, much more angrily than I have dared allow myself to get with her in the past, “I don’t like bugs on me.”

She breezed out of the office with the following glib remark:

“Florida’s a buggy place, get used to it.”

“THANK you,” I spat, without bothering to conceal my contempt. I said this while she was still in the doorway, before the door closed, so that she would be sure to hear me. (What I wish I’d said: “I don’t like bugs on me, get used to THAT.” But the door would have been closed before I could’ve gotten it out, even if I’d thought of it in time.)

I clenched and unclenched my fist a few times. I gritted my teeth. I walked back towards BossMan’s office, but his door was partially closed, so I didn’t disturb him. He had definitely heard the confrontation, I was sure. I sat down and continued with my work.

A minute later, he emerged and said he would be back. They were both off to lunch. Without looking at him, I quietly said, “I don’t think that was called for.”

BossMan, to his credit, remained calm and put forth a positive attitude, but supported BossLady. He said, “Well, you really don’t have to be so loud.”

I repeated, “I don’t like bugs on me.”

BossMan, with a good-natured yet slightly warning tone, repeated BossLady’s contention that the noise was bothersome and there’s no need to “make a big deal” about the little bugs.

I explained, “I’m not doing it to make a point. Bugs freak me out.”

BossMan made a couple more mildly dismissive remarks and went to lunch. I’m sure he’ll get an earful from BossLady. Meanwhile, I have decided that if and when BossLady shifts her ass to fire me, I will march right over to the main office and try to get myself hired with one of the other agents there, possibly even Ellen. Who BossMan and BossLady despise.

I doubt that BossLady will fire me at this point, since they won’t want me blabbing about their plans to the main office, but as soon as that deal closes, she may go right ahead and replace me. And she is welcome to do so.

Sheesh. “It adds to the stress.” You know what else is stressful?

Having to see your boss in her BATHROBE every morning.

Having to pick up someone else’s used POPSICLE STICKS off your work area all the time.

Having to wipe other people’s COFFEE CUP RINGS off your work area all the time.

Getting YELLED AT because you have the AUDACITY to ask for some FURNITURE so you can have a more COMFORTABLE WORKING ENVIRONMENT.

Having your boss crack all kinds of JOKES about the fact that you were HOMELESS for several months as if that was FUNNY and not a completely HUMILIATING experience.

But I put up with ALL that crap for MONTHS without saying anything, with the exception of the furniture and that was a POLITE request.

“It adds to the stress.” Yeah. #@*&%! YOU, GET USED TO THAT.