I couldn’t deal with my boss anymore. I think that if one starts fantasizing about punching one’s boss, really gets into it and visualizes what her stupid fat face would look like before, during, and after getting a fist to the nose, it’s time to look for a new job.
I went to talk to her, on my mother’s advice, to try and make our working relationship a little better.
“Hey Melissa?”
“Yes?” She stopped staring out the window to look over at me. Strangely, no matter how often I went by her cubicle, she was always staring out the window. She did always seem to know everyone’s whereabouts, when they went to lunch and when they came in in the morning, and I’m sure her window overlooking the parking lot helped with that.
“Um…” Eye contact was difficult at this point with her. Eye contact was never exactly easy for me, but I didn’t want her to see how much I disliked her coming out of my eyeholes. “I was wondering if it might be possible for me to get some more responsibility?”
“Oh…” She looked down at her desk, seemingly at a loss for words.
I kept talking, because I’m kind of an idiot. “I mean… I was the primary contact for the Marley project, but since that ended a few months ago, I’ve been kind of, well, bored, and I was thinking that if other departments needed any help with anything, I’m definitely free… I talked to James in…“
She interrupted me, “No, I can’t have you helping out other departments. I’ll come by your desk in a few minutes and give you a project to work on, okay?” She smiled, with obvious effort.
I nodded and went back to my cubicle. I was at a loss. I knew she didn’t like me, and I didn’t like her, and I was practically offering myself up to go do busy work in a different department because my department wasn’t busy enough, and the last interdepartmental meeting we had had the big boss had told us all that we were going to have to work together more… but it didn’t matter. She walked in with a two-inch stack of papers.
“Okay, I need you to match these numbers. If there’s a number on this paper…” She held up the top piece of paper, “you need to find the release data for that number in this stack.”
She gave me busy work. No good deed goes unpunished.
A few days later, my roommate pulled an envelope out of the freezer. “Hey Megan, why do you have a letter that your boss wrote to you about your performance in the freezer?”
“Oh, it’s… irrational. I read somewhere that putting something that has someone’s signature in the freezer gives them, like, bad juju and, just put it back, okay?”
For the record, I didn’t think it would do anything.
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