I must admit that the last couple of days have been interesting. I’m applying for other jobs and praying that I get one at my Optometrist’s office as it would be an actual career (and interesting because I’m bored to death). My coworkers backstabbed me, and one called me a liar to my face over a cookie jar. Yeah. The one we got the doctor for Christmas… aka. the one I thought about, ordered, shipped, paid for, wrapped, filled, and delivered. But apparently, I was supposed to have the ‘busybody’s’ permission before giving him his gift. Half of the gift to be exact as they handled the card and gift card, and I informed him that the jar was a gift from all of us, but only half of his present.
There was miscommunication and I admit that I might be partially at fault. However, my powers of deductive reasoning evaporate when someone calls me a liar, so I can’t really evaluate the decision as is. The office Christmas party is Friday night, and tomorrow morning will be Thursday. As soon as I come in, I’ll just tell the doctor the hardest thing… the truth. The truth that I don’t want to go, I don’t want to handle the logistics, that I’m ashamed I waited this long to say something, apologize profusely, and work out what to do about the price of the ticket. He doesn’t need to know about the drama with my coworkers, he doesn’t need to be involved. But I refuse to go to some party far away, have to deal with a shitload of traffic, find the damn place (when it’s hard to find for the people who’ve been there before) and be out all night after working all day. And more importantly, I refuse to be fake and act like mixing my personal and social life is something acceptable to me. It’s not. One day I’ll write about the collapse of my previous career, but for now I’m too ashamed to even laugh about how devastating and miserable it was.
On to cheerier subjects… I ran into my ex today. Thankfully, not Luis. I ran into good ol’ Josh. See previous post for details. He’s a charmer. But the incident itself was quite hysterical…
I was at my local gas station filling up my car so I didn’t have to do anything tomorrow morning. I’m trying to be responsible and all that (go me!)… so I’m standing there, watching my money drain away into my car, when I see something out of the corner of my eye. It’s… the shaggin’ wagon. At least, that’s what my Dad calls it. He said it reminds him of what sad people drive, and Mom concurred. Good enough reasoning for me, but I think it has a nice ring to it…
So I see this out of the corner of my eye, and I start smiling… See, I really put Josh in his place when I left him. I basically told him the truth, which he didn’t want to hear. Too bad for him. Anyway, the dude is terrified of me. He thinks I’m Satan’s mistress who torments the souls of good men like himself (excuse me, I need to go choke on the irony) for some sordid personal gain because, well, he doesn’t use logic. Running into him is always interesting because I never avoid it. I’m always pleasant and confident. Snuggling Satan must help with that…
Anyway, he rounds the turn and he’s pulling up in the next lane… you know, the one that would literally be right across from me. Like, 2 feet. Sharing the pump. I stared at the pump, acting like I didn’t see him. I can tell when he looked over and saw me, because he slammed the accelerator so hard I thought the wagon was going to stall out. Keep in mind this is a creepy as hell old minivan that is held together with bubble gum. As I bit my lip trying to hold back my hysterical laughter (which comes with lots of snorting), he careened around the pump, went behind my car, and drove into the next parking lot. More irony as the parking lot he drove into was the parking lot of my former job (the job I worked 5 years, met him through, and was forced to work literally right next to him 2 years after our breakup).
See, I’m not a nice person sometimes. I know this because I about shit myself from laughter as I watched him do doughnuts in the parking lot waiting for me to leave. And I might have filled up very, very slow… There was much snorting, and I laughed so hard I cried. Keep in mind this is a full gas station and I look like a complete loon. So worth it. So, so worth it.
So please send positive energy and prayers my way as I try to extricate myself from all this drama without creating more. Also for that job I applied for that I would literally give an appendage to get. Finally, never call someone a liar over a cookie jar when you didn’t have anything to do with it. Plus, it’s a God damn cookie jar! Who gives a fuck?!? It’s not my fault I won Christmas and you didn’t handle your shit! And then to just act like everything is okay… Seriously? You are 60 years old! GTFO!!
Yeah, that went down on Tuesday and I’m still not over it. She called me a liar, and there is no worse insult in the world to me. Call me anything else and I might find an applicable situation, but don’t you dare call me a liar when I am painfully honest. And I’ll have to prove my honesty tomorrow. Ugh.
Please send positive energy, because I’m completely out and I’m starting to have anxiety symptoms. Anybody got an easy button? Anyone?