Filed under: Work Bitching
Last week I wore a Batman tshirt because I love me some Batman. It had the basic black and yellow Batman logo on it and because the icy hand of winter is slowly enclosing the fine state of Virginia in its chilly death grip, I wore my new winter coat with it.
My co-worker Jason commented on the Batman shirt, saying he liked it and that his daughter was dressing up as Batgirl for Halloween. Awesomeness. A little later that day he walked by and noticed my yellow coat on the back of my chair and said that it was awesome that my coat matched my Batman shirt. Indeed.
Flash forward to yesterday. I wore my coat from last winter yesterday instead of my new yellow coat because sometimes a girl needs a little variety in life. Jason showed up at my desk and said, “You know every time I see your yellow coat I’m going to think of your Batman shirt, so now your yellow coat is the Batman coat to me.” Ah ha ha, ROTFL, LOL…now let me find a knife so we can cut through this bullshit. You’re not here to talk about my Batman shirt or my yellow coat (although my new coat is pretty fabulous and I would be more than happy to engage in a convo about its many merits, and the good Lord knows I can talk about the bad-ass-ness of Batman til the cows come home). But I’m not even wearing either of the aforementioned items today and you’re a married man in his early 40s. You want something from me, and it isn’t to chat about my fashion sense or my super hero preferences. So do us both a favor and cut to the fucking chase already.
I smiled and nodded for a minute until, as predicted, Jason said, “So what’s your schedule like today? Are you busy?” Then I said, “What do you want Jason? Let’s wade through the niceties and get to the part where you tell me what it is you want me to do. Lay it on me.” Because the last thing I’m going to do is commit myself to whatever bitch work that you’re responsible for but don’t feel like doing before I even know what said bitch work entails. I’m all for being polite, but watching you flail around desperately for a fake topic of common interest that neither of us have any actual desire to discuss with the other person is really just wasting both of our time.
Jason got all flustered and apologetic before he finally spat it out, and it was no big deal and I said I would be happy to help and I meant it, because I actually happen to find this particular task falls relatively low on the suicidal-thought-inducing scale. But I’d have been happier to help if he had just said, “Hey you know that thing you did for me last week…do you have time to do it again before COB today?” Don’t dick around, and don’t try to con me into agreeing to something before I know what it is. If I said I had all the time in the world and was just desperate for something to do and you said you needed someone to clean the bathrooms, I would take it all back in a nano-second without even a hint of shame. So just nicely tell me what you want from me and get out of my face so I can get it done and we can both move on with our lives. Please. And thank you.
Although if you wanted to bring me biscuits next time you needed something, that would work too.
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