Thursday, December 22, 2005
The lunchlady referred to me as "this kid." That's right, we have two or three lunch ladies for our cafe(teria) who run the register and stock the styrofoam cups next to the soda fountain. They don't, however, have any jurisdiction over noise levels or leaving the cafe(teria) to use the bathroom. I've had no beef with any of them until now. Kid? You can't call me that. I'm a professional. The boundary between service industry and professional what-ever-it-is-that-I-do has just been violated. Defamed. Toed. Perhaps I'm too sensitive.
My boss gave me a watch for a xmas gift. Pretty sweet, right? I thought so...until I realized it was a woman's watch. No, I'm serious. It's for a woman. I'm a man. Perhaps my boss doesn't know that. Perhaps slashing his tires and defecating on his laptop will clear things up. Perhaps seeing my coin purse swaying to-and-fro while I squeeze stool onto his Thinkpad will serve as suitable notice of my masculinity.
Then again, being fired (and potentially prosecuted) this close to xmas wouldn't play well to the wife. I can hold a grudge until January.