I'm not your bitch, don't hang your shit on me.

Monday, July 17, 2006


As I am running through the train terminal, I’m thinking, I better not be late for this concert. I better not be late for this concert.

When passing through a long hallway, I come across him, a former co-worker - the biggest spaz I ever had the pleasure to work with.


He looked harmless enough on the first couple of days, but as the weeks rolled along at a leisurely pace, I came to wonder why he was working here. He was terribly disorganized, flighty and would “spin” when it was crunch time.

Unlike me, where people would have a shit if the margins were 1.5 mm too close to the header, the other co-workers always made excuses for his incompetence.

Did you print the wrong report? Don’t worry, it's only paper. Did you bill the full amount to the client? Don’t worry, accounting will fix that. Did you set fire to the office? Don’t worry, we’ll blame Steven.

This happened time and time again.

What was even more irritating was when he would mince through the office, wearing his perfectly-coordinated ensembles, whining on how he doesn’t have a girlfriend (maybe his love for musical theatre had something to do with it), and baking madelines for the other co-workers with a zero-calorie sweetener that doesn't make your thighs fat.

Uh-huh. I know what you’re thinking…


In this rush, I am not sure if he recognizes me. There was a brief flash of recollection, but I keep on walking, blinders on, forward.

And, I don’t look back.


Blogger Kevin said...

So ... were you late for the concert?

July 17, 2006 9:57 am  
Blogger Steven said...

Nope. I wasn't going to run late for a little chat with someone like that.

July 17, 2006 10:14 am  
Blogger tornwordo said...

I figure that's the universe moving. I would have stopped.

July 23, 2006 11:33 am  

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