If I was more of a bitch that liked to cause a scene, I would have multiple of my coworkers fired for sexual harassment.
I am dramatic. I live to say things that are absurd, outlandish, and vaguely inappropriate. I mean I did consider having a Jonestown themed birthday party last year. Unfortunately, this plan did not fully come into fruition, but hey, there’s always next year.
Despite these strange tendencies, I am actually a very reserved person that does not enjoy starting drama. I live for hearing the drama of others, but in my own life, I avoid it like everyone should probably avoid the kool aid at my birthday party next year.
At work, I show up, do what I’m supposed to do, and exist completely under the radar. I have been employee of the month many times (humble brag) and I pride myself in my ability to win the hearts of the elderly. My coworkers, however, are determined to make my life miserable and to cause me as much discomfort as possible.
One of my coworkers, that I probably should not name in case they see this… I don’t want to get in trouble.. and drag someone through the mud.. (his name is Dennis) is the actual worst person I’ve ever met. If you want to know what he looks like, just imagine a school shooter.
The first time I met him I thought I was under attack. I assumed it was a retirement home swimming pool Columbine situation and I immediately feared for my life (while also being simultaneously intrigued at the prospect of impending death).
Anyways, this guy is 30 years old and he is unable to find an actual job. I wonder why. He has an interesting obsession with insulting my intelligence, telling me I will end up working at Starbucks for the rest of my life, that I need to find a rich man to marry because I will never amount to anything, and that I should refrain from leaving the house without makeup.
Of course, I attribute all of this to his own personal insecurities, because none of it is true. I’ve been on the fucking honor roll every semester (humble brag). About the makeup comment, that may be true. But who comments on that kind of thing? I don’t comment on the fact that he looks like he is a member of the trench coat mafia, and that he needs to get a haircut and invest in a deep cleansing facial scrub. I keep it to myself because I wasn’t raised in the fucking wilderness. Also because when he decides to go San Bernardino on us and shoot up the workplace, I would rather not be on his hit list.
You gotta think ahead.