Today I dedicate Terrorist Tuesday to the bitch in my office eating crackers.
She's one of the those people that just can't stay on my sane side. Every time she opens her mouth I want to shriek as my ears bleed. She's not a bad person, she's nice and has her funny moments, but 97% of the time, NO.
She walks around like she owns the place, no bitch the big guy upstairs owns the place, you're just a 9-5er like the rest of us.
She's always right, always. I put a note in and it's not OK with her but two clients later her note is the same as mine and it's OK. Yaaaa, No.
She complains about people having rotating relationships and she's had a fiance, and handful of men in the short year I've been here.
She throws tantrums like a toddler. Nobody needs to put up with a 40 something throwing phones and yelling because the foreign mortgage rep made you repeat a couple things. It irritates us all but we don't act like we didn't get the cereal we wanted while shopping with mom. Sit ya ass down.
Everybody has their bitch eating crackers. Maybe they grind coffee beans at work, invade personal bubbles without the use of deodorant, take up 2 seats on the train daily or chomp on gum while they're on the phone. Vent away comrades and take away their crackers. I think I need to be done. I will stay in my tiny little windowless office today and mind my own.
This is why people need rum.