Archive | Asshattery RSS feed for this section

Nice girls are tramps (apparently)

23 Jun

Yee olde married male co-workers who hit on girls at the office scenario. Are you familiar with it? I am. Oooh fuck, am I ever.

My current married-man-who-doesn’t-quite-know-his-boundaries situation is a little different than the norm. It’s also kind of weird and getting increasingly embarrassing (for both of us although I’m not quite sure he realizes it). It’s definitely getting on my nerves.

Contrary to how I might come across in this blog, I’m actually a pretty decent person. I’m nice and do my best to be accommodating, especially in my job. These two traits have gotten me into more trouble that I care to remember.

At the risk of sounding vain and insufferable, I’m going to put it on the table here: I’m easy on the eyes. I’m tasteful and professional in all of my interactions and dress but OBVIOUSLY that doesn’t matter because this is not the first time, nor do I anticipate it being the last time I deal with this brand of bull shit in the office. Ladies (or gents, I don’t discriminate), if you feel me, put yo’ hands up.

Desperate Co-worker Du Jour is a nice person. In fact, he’s a very kind man who just happens to be more than a little hapless. I’m not the first young woman to come into the office that he has become foolishly smitten over. He’s kind of like a cartoon character in the way he falls over himself trying to impress pretty girls but he’s harmless.

If I had known what was in store, I would have put a stop to it much sooner. I always knew that he was a helpful guy (not just to the ladies but for all of his colleagues and friends too. Like I said, he’s a nice man), so I didn’t think much of it when he helped me located office supplies for my cubicle. Then he started bringing me tea every day and soon he was stopping by to chat. And chat. AND CHAT.

It didn’t take long for his constant fawning to go from flattering to OMG STOP. I made sure I brought up Boyfriend as much as possible, going on and on about him as if sun shone out of his ass (even when I was mad at him, which for me REALLY isn’t easy to do). I started cutting the conversations short by telling him I was super busy and had to get back to work and making tea as soon as I got to work in the mornings so he had no reason to bring me some. He reeled it in a bit but by no means got the hint.

Then one day I met his family one day at a work function.

“Oh it’s SO nice to finally meet you!” his very adorable little wife gushed. “I’ve heard so much about you!”

“Err, thanks?”

I have never witness a spousal reaction like this. Even if my only association with a guy is that we work in the same building and have only maybe ever exchanged hellos whilst passing one another in the halls, the moment a wife/fiancée/girlfriend spots me, I’m done for. And by done for I mean that they first try to kill me with their eyes before labelling me as the devil and resorting to giving her man the stink eye every time he even so much as glances in my general direction. It’s hatred unlike any other, and it sucks.

So, needless to say, I was NOT expecting such an enthusiastic greeting.

“Don’t worry,” she continued, as if she could READ MY FUCKING MIND, “I don’t have a problem with you being friends with my husband. You seem like a nice girl! It’s awful how the guys at work joke about you two having an affair isn’t it? Hey, wanna come over for dinner sometime?” And her husband just stood there giggling like a moron next her.

This is about where I threw up everywhere and spontaneously combusted from embarrassment.

SAY WHAT?

Yeah.

From that point on I went out of my way to avoid him and ensure that all conversations were kept short and on topic. I started turning down the occasional tea that would show up at my desk and I was suddenly always busy and OMG WHY DOESN’T MY CUBICLE HAVE A DOOR. I even made sure that my co-workers in the immediate vicinity knew how embarrassed I was every time he doted on me, just to clear the air.

Things had pretty much stabilized and, hurt as he was, he eventually came around and started interacting with me like a semi-normal person. That is of course, until yesterday when I came into work yesterday to find a message on my voice mail:

“Oh hey, guess you’re running late. AGAIN. Ha ha, anyway, nothing important. Just waiting to head out to [an off-site building] and was bored so I thought I’d call to chat. Later.”

What. The. FUCK.

I tweeted this shit. AndyGirl came back with, “Oooh, uncool”

I responded with, “I know, right? It’s embarrassing”

To which she came back with, “Yeah, for the douchebag.”

To a certain extent, she’s right. He’s making an ass of himself for everyone to see and see it they do.

Still, I don’t really care about his embarrassment, I care about mine.

This situation might is tame. This situation it manageable. Not all of them (or even many of them) are. Even if his wife doesn’t believe there’s a problem, people are obviously whispering. They are watching every move and even without doing a thing, I’ve been labelled. And him? He’s just a silly man gone gaga over a pretty girl.

In the end, it doesn’t matter that he’s the instigator and I’m just unlucky. It doesn’t matter that all I’ve done is be myself and he can’t help himself. In the eyes of everyone else, it’s always my fault. In any situation like this, it is my fault,

It’s my fault because I’m pretty. It’s my fault because being kind is all too often perceived as flirting. It’s my fault because I’m young and often men lost in the throes of mid-life crisis just can’t help themselves. It’ll be my fault if they make a pass at me because I’m a temptress, a vixen, some young slut home wrecker who likes the attention. Because that’s exactly what young, pretty, successful women do, right?

Fuck it.

I’m sick of it. It’s hard enough to be a young, educated woman trying to build a career for herself, even now. You have to fight to get respect in the workplace, and not just from the men. Men look at you like an object and women look at you like a threat. This is a generalization to be sure, but it happens nonetheless. This is the type of life where just working hard and doing a good job will never be enough. You have to struggle to shatter stereotypes and make a name for yourself so that everyone knows that you’re not just some slacker bimbo hoping to get by on her good looks.

And fuck if that’s not hard enough without bull shit like this.

Anyway, I kind of went on a bit of a tangent there at the end. What say you, dear reader? Have you had a similar experience? Have you witnessed it go down, been one of the other players in this scenario? Do you want to weigh in on the issue? Leave your story in the comments, let’s vent it out.

Today’s blog post has been brought to you by: Other people’s poor choices

17 May

Themes.

Sometimes, life has them. Maybe not on purpose, but there certainly are days that feel like they’ve been scripted by the good people that bring us Glee every week – slamming morals and over-arching elements down our throats until we bleed inspirational quotes like those damned motivational posters.

Graphic, I know.

If today had a theme I believe it would have something to do with, at least according to some of the stories gracing today’s Toronto Star, owning up to and taking responsibility for your mistakes. There’s probably something a little more streamlined to be gleaned from all this but I don’t have the time nor the mental capacity to hammer out the finer details on a Monday.

So, dear reader, without further adieu, I give you: The Path to Deliverance According to the Toronto Star, May 17th 2010 Edition (a.k.a. What You Should and Should Not Do When You Fuck Up Big Time).

Headline #1: Robert Munsch admits cocaine, alcohol addiction

No, I'll love YOU forever, Robert Munsch

Heartbreaking.

I grew up on Robert Munsch books – they were a staple in every elementary school classroom and are the foundation for many fond childhood memories (I attribute a lot of my no-nonsense ball-busting to the lessons learned from “The Paper Bag Princess” and “Love You Forever” pretty much taught me how to feel. Only one of those statements is completely accurate but both books HAVE had significant impacts on my life.). So, perhaps I’m a bit biased. I find Munsch’s fall from grace far more touching than that of, say, Steven Page, formerly of Barenaked Ladies (and that IS saying something. I loves me some BNL.).

There’s the obvious tugging of the heartstrings – a childhood hero, who lived his life constructing fabulous stories for children around the world to enjoy has it all taken from him in one fell swoop, by no fault of his own. The article implies that the substance abuse was the result of the stroke that robbed him of his ability to create, and while that certainly doesn’t excuse it, it does at least provide some perspective.

Still! you might find yourself shouting, The man writes kids books! FOR KIDS! Yeah well, Eddie Murphy also got caught with a prostitute back in ’97, but does that stop you from letting your kids contribute to the bastardization of the Shrek franchise? No, of course not, so take it easy.

What is admirable in all of this is the fact that he is facing his demons head-on. His family and friends have been both aware of his situation and are helping him through it, and he has issued a message to the parents of his young fans that is up-front and honest. He didn’t wait for this to blow up in his face. And? He has turned this whole situation into a learning experience, stating that he hopes “everyone will talk to their kids honestly, listen to them, and help them do their best with their own challenges.”

Bonus points, Munsch. I wish you the best.

Headline #2:Toronto woman sues Rogers after her affair is exposed

When will we learn not to trust Rogers with our extramarital affairs? God damn!

Guys, I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried.

So this lady was banging some other dude and her husband found out when Rogers (her phone company, for all of my Yankee readers) decided to combine her cell phone bill (which was under her maiden name) with the family cable bill (which was under the husband’s name). Hubby noticed a number of long-ass phone calls to one number in particular, put two and two together and the rest, like their marriage, is history.

There is SO much wrong with this story. As a Rogers-hating hoard member, I am totally onboard with the belief that the company had no business combining the bills, especially without consent (whether they were under different last names or not). But, this IS Rogers we’re talking about, so I’m also not even sort of surprised.

But that’s not even the worst part of the story. Nor is, in my opinion, the fact that she was cheating on her husband (although for the record, this is not a round-about way of saying I condone it. Y’know, before y’all go burning me at the stake and such.)

What bothers me the MOST about this story is how her response to the fall out is to place the blame on THE PHONE COMPANY.

Because, y’know, Rogers totally held her at gun-point and forced her canoodle with a man who wasn’t her husband, risking her family and way of life and all that jazz.

Yeah.

To quote our damsel in distress in reference to the affair: “It was a mistake, but I didn’t deserve to lose my life over it.”

I’ll let you, dear reader, be the judge of that.

Trying to make sure Rogers gets their privacy concerns in check is one thing, but is suing them going to bring back her family? Nope. Is Rogers the reason her husband left her? Again, no – they may have exacerbated the situation but at the end of the day, no matter how the truth wound up coming out (and considering the juvenile reaction of the other man when she finally broke it off, it would have) it would have ended the same way. She needs to really own her part in all of this if she ever hopes to get on with her life.

So there you have it – two real life stories of taking responsibility (or not) for poor choices, and my unapologetic opinions of both.

What do you think? Am I being too harsh on our lady-about-town? Does our friend, Mr. Munsch, deserve to get off that easy? Do you agree with my rambles or do you think I’m full of shit? Let it all out, you know you wanna.