Everybody hates aspects of their job, or will get so fed up on certain days that they just want to scream something creatively inappropriate at the supposed source of their pain. That was me, yesterday. My usual response to coworkers who can’t do their job is to internalize all of the angst until I leave. I’ll sing Sam Smith tunes at the top of my lungs. I’ll drive to Papa Murphy’s and get a family size Thai Chicken thin crust pizza. I live alone, but hell if I’m going to tell that tween behind the counter that. Bitch, don’t judge me. Then, I’ll stop by Happy Harry’s Bottle Shop and buy Jack Daniel’s Tennessee Honey Whiskey. I’ll go home, eat the healthiest pizza I could find, drink the tastiest whiskey on the rocks, and watch comedies. Even the mere sound of laughing by an audience can trick the brain into producing the “happy” hormone, seratonin. Oh, pardon me nerds. It’s not a hormone; it’s a neurotransmitter. Don’t make me throw these whiskey-soaked ice cubes at you. Well, that was the old me.
Instead, I called up my boss, unloaded on him (poor guy never saw that diatribe coming), and felt so much better! Why, oh why, haven’t I done this before?! Oh yeah, that’s right. Antiquated, sexist ideas of how a woman is supposed to act. Grr.
Why do we ladies internalize our “anything but happy” feelings? Lord knows a woman can’t be upset, because then she’s bitchy, isn’t nice, and probably on the rag because her panties are up in a bunch. 90% of the people I have constant communication with at work are men. These are blue collar, technical school attending, beer drinking, motorcycle riding, goatee sporting, men. I’m the opposite of this in every aspect. I know they have a different set of ideals, morals, etc. I know they have a different learning style and personality traits. But because I know these things, I’m demonized because I don’t treat them consistently, because they all have their own unique idiosyncrasies. Why do I have to be the grownup with a better education? Why do I have to tailor my behavior to their personalities? Playing politics? I get some people thoroughly enjoy this mind game. They’re called sociopaths: people with no empathy for others’ plights.
Yay for me. No drinking. Still fighting the sexist, racist, patriarchal, capitalist hegemony seemingly by myself.
I want to end this on a positive note. I read a quote that makes me so ridiculously happy: You may feel like the fries on the bottom of the McDonalds bag. Maybe you go unnoticed at first. But, eventually, someone’s always thrilled to find you.