Friday, July 13, 2007

Do they pay you enough to make my job a living hell?

"All I've ever wanted was an honest week's pay for an honest day's work."-Steve Martin

I got a job as a receptionist for the summer. A quick pick-me-up from my last job. (I’m still in college, so I’m taking this as an opportunity to weigh my options and buy some more time in “finding myself”.) Granted I don’t do much, (work on my blog) but it is required for me to show up every day. If I do, I get paid.

Everyone here is for the most part friendly and it isn’t very often that I have to bite my tongue because someone else is having a bad day. There really isn’t much to complain about, the hours are reasonable, there’s air conditioning and I get to write.

Nevertheless, there is always that one person at your job, where they are this close, in getting a foot stuck up their ass.

I work with this very rude old lady.

No, let me re-phrase that. I work with a shriveled up, 80-year-old hag, who probably hasn’t gotten laid since 1972. I also think she picks an outfit out on Sunday and wears it continuously throughout the week.

She has been running her business out of the same office for the last 20 years, so apparently she comes with the building. I think her name is actually on the lease right next to ‘utilities included’ it says, ‘old hag’.

When I got hired, my boss made light of the situation that they’ve had problems with the old hag in the past. She told me that if the old hag gave me any problems to let her know immediately. I made a note of it, but figured I could avoid any mood swings she threw at me. Growing up with younger siblings, I have mastered the art of ignoring people when I want to.

Plus, regardless of what anyone may think of Ms P, I have respect for my elders, or at least I used to…

The old hag started off by making rude comments to me in front of clients, as if she were testing me to see if I would defend myself. She would ask me questions like, “do you know how to do your job?” or “didn’t they train you?”

In my head I would answer her questions, with a rhetorical question like, “when was the last time you got laid?” or “shouldn’t you be dead by now?”

I swear the nerve of some people, right?

I didn’t play into her stupid questions like she wanted, and it got old fast. So she moved on to just plain old torturing me. Asking me to do little favors for her, running errands, things she knew I wouldn’t say no to.

Eventually, it became clear to me that she was not grandma, but that old hag I work with and this was getting ridiculous. It got to the point where it was well beyond helping an old lady out. She needed to realize she’s not a celebrity and I am not getting paid to be her personal assistant. So, I talked to my boss about her “favors” and well it’s not in my job description, so I politely told her no.

I think her interpretation of that conversation instead was, “this means war!” “I’m still a cranky old hag and I’m going to take my life’s frustrations out on you!”

So the other day she comes up to me and asks for a long ‘pen’. So I handed her a ‘pen’.

“No!” she screamed at me. “Not a ‘pen’, a ‘pin’.

“Oh, I thought you said a ‘pen’, I said. “I don’t think that I have a pin though.”

She ignores me and starts riffling through the top drawer of my desk. Ok, by now I’m irritated, but I’m trying not to let it show.

“I don’t think you are going to find a ‘pin’ in there,” I told her.

“Oh, does it bother you that I am in your space?” she snapped back.

No please, dig away. When you’re done with my drawer would you like to look through my purse?

“This is my project,” she said. “Why are you trying to get in my project?”

Your project? Um ok?

“I’m not, I just don’t want you going through my drawer.” I said. “And I don’t have a ‘pin’, sorry.”

She looked up from my drawer, giving me an evil-eyed stare, before she turned and hobbled away.

You know, there comes a time, where Ms P takes a moment to step back and look at a situation and think, “now that, is one crazy bitch.”


Damsel Underdressed said...

Wow! She must be pissed because she should be retired and waiting to die and instead, she has to go to work every day and deal with the "young people." Too bad you didn't really have a pin. Think of what you could have done with it.

G-Sweet said...

this shit made my morning... u r hilarious... this had me rollin

"I work with a shriveled up, 80-year-old hag, who probably hasn’t gotten laid since 1972"


"no please, dig away, and when ur done do you wanna look through my purse"

haaaaaahahaha... classic sarcasm... i love that shit!

i have extremely low tolerance for ass holes @ work... thats why im sure i have to be self-employed when its all said and done... but other that million year old virgin sounds like you've upgraded ur job!

The Cajun Boy said...

i thought that the civil war imagery made for a quite nice addition to a blog about an ornery geriatric.

honkeie2 said...

I actually love ppl like this. They make coming to work a joy. Just as long there is only one. Maybe it is the fact I love screwing with ppl or the fact I am rather annoying myself but I love a good battle of the wills.