I Hate My Co-Worker

Posted by: branwynne77 on: August 14, 2008

In: Boot to the Head| I'm not CRAZY!| Randi's Rants
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OK, not hate, but I certainly dislike her and hope she will find a job in a different department. Soon, I pray.

The Scene, last Saturday. I was quietly reading a medical terminology book on my break at my desk. I didn’t bother putting up my sign because, well, only my co-worker Christy (yeah THAT Christy) and I were working.

She walked past me to use the unit phone to let her boyfriend know when to pick her up. I ignored the smoochie sounds like the adult I am. Everything, I think, is okie-dokey. I don’t mind if she uses the phone for personal calls, because I do every once in a great while. And frankly, it isn’t my business.

So….first thing Monday morning, the supervisor summons me to her office and says that a co-worker told her I was reading on the job. I knew who ratted me out, the little rat…. Christy was the only one there. Christy had to know that I would know she finked me out. So she pulled up a worksheet that showed how much I worked. Surprise, surprise, I worked my boo-tay off.

I nobly refrained from mentioning the smoochie sounds. I COULD have claimed the same thing, but, hey, I’m a bigger person and I don’t need to make petty accusations in order to get someone in trouble.

Today, I catch her hanging around outside MY cubicle, in a public walkway–where it’s OK for her to be. I’m in the frame of mind that she’s looking for something to get me in trouble. Granted, I have a suspicious nature, but I do battle my natural inclinations by giving people the benefit of the doubt.

“What’s up, Christy?” I say cheerfully before adding, “Why are you looking in my cubicle, and while I’m asking questions, why do you seem to not like me?”

I abhor bullshit of all forms. It’s a waste of time and false politeness leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

I guess she decided to be honest, because she said, “I think you are a freak. I caught you doing that hair-pulling thing and I think you are a disturbed person. You scare me, actually.”

Honesty is refreshing. That didn’t stop me from being mad. “You know, I can’t really help that. Not that my disorder is any of YOUR business. Just as you can’t help but count your pencils on your desk everyday to make sure the cleaners didn’t take one. Or how you have to organize everything on your desk alphabetically. Take care of your own business before you try to help me with mine.”

Believe me, what I really wanted to say would have got me carted away by the police.

I added. “Just leave me alone, OK? And the next time, I see you hanging around my cubicle, I will file a harrassment claim to our supervisor. ” I smile sweetly as I go to work.

I’ll keep you updated if she decides to turn me in for some made up, phony baloney reason.