In my work for Big Oil, I bestride the technical-administrative line that delineates creatures like geologists and engineers from the army of receptionists, administrative assistants and so on. I'm like an office chimera of compositeness (not a word); not versed in the arcane secrets of the earth, but my position is classified as a technician...not considered part of the administrative staff, and yet that is exactly who I have to report to. I like to think of it as being equally wrong-footed in both sectors. I report to a small permed, tanned, bleached, highlighted AND lowlighted poodle-creature that barks ferociously and leaves me hovering on the brink of a full-on panic attack; I constantly worry that if I panic-faint I may crush her, and be jailed for manslaughter.
Fortunately, there is a small bevy of bosomy admin ladies who interact with her way more than I have to, and occasionally bring me news in my far library wing; tales of great cattiness and double-talk that I can only feebly grimace at. They think it's an awkward smile, as well they might; but it is even less than that, my friends, for in reality it is my helpless fear-rictus. These are precisely the kind of girls that made grades 1-12 an endless waking nightmare for me, whose laughter is a scourge upon the soul and whose thresholds for interpersonal conflict seem unlimited.
What's great is I'm terrified and therefore somewhat (understandably) emotionally distant towards them, and that's turned me into some sort of benign confessor they all come to in order to secretly bitch about their so-called office friends: Mindy doesn't like Stacie because she's a total power-hungry bitch, and Jennifer is on Mindy's side but is closer in age to Stacie, so Mindy thinks Jennifer is probably talking behind her back to Stacie, even though she still totally hangs out with Jennifer like all the time to go on little unauthorized breaks to the Nordstrom's around the corner...etc, etc, etc.
Now, at this point I'm totally stroking out on the inside from the sheer level of conflict-avoidance panic my brain is pumping through my body, but still I courageously manage some pathetic little "Well at least it's Hump Day*, ha ha ha" office nothingism. It checks them immediately, and the look of bizarre recognition crosses each of their wodgy little faces respectively as they recover from their gossip-gasm to recall that No, I'm not cool and bitchy, that I am in fact the weird girl that none of them has ever invited to lunch. And then they hustle straight outta my library and back into the fray.
I've never been good at that cool, flippant, callous sort of vindictiveness that seems to be so very part of female popularity. I'm definitely capable of isolated incidents of vindictiveness, you betcha; and I mean them, too, from the bottom of my temporarily belligerent heart. But that sustained cruelty for the sake of honing it to an even finer edge that popular girls seem to live for, I just don't have the heart for it. Even if I could dish it out, I certainly couldn't take it. This gave me a lonely and awkward adolescence, but now as an adult I wear it like a shield; I am awkward, you don't want to chat with me! Don't involve me in your shit! Hear meinaudibly roar!
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* HATE THIS PHRASE. So much.
Fortunately, there is a small bevy of bosomy admin ladies who interact with her way more than I have to, and occasionally bring me news in my far library wing; tales of great cattiness and double-talk that I can only feebly grimace at. They think it's an awkward smile, as well they might; but it is even less than that, my friends, for in reality it is my helpless fear-rictus. These are precisely the kind of girls that made grades 1-12 an endless waking nightmare for me, whose laughter is a scourge upon the soul and whose thresholds for interpersonal conflict seem unlimited.
What's great is I'm terrified and therefore somewhat (understandably) emotionally distant towards them, and that's turned me into some sort of benign confessor they all come to in order to secretly bitch about their so-called office friends: Mindy doesn't like Stacie because she's a total power-hungry bitch, and Jennifer is on Mindy's side but is closer in age to Stacie, so Mindy thinks Jennifer is probably talking behind her back to Stacie, even though she still totally hangs out with Jennifer like all the time to go on little unauthorized breaks to the Nordstrom's around the corner...etc, etc, etc.
Now, at this point I'm totally stroking out on the inside from the sheer level of conflict-avoidance panic my brain is pumping through my body, but still I courageously manage some pathetic little "Well at least it's Hump Day*, ha ha ha" office nothingism. It checks them immediately, and the look of bizarre recognition crosses each of their wodgy little faces respectively as they recover from their gossip-gasm to recall that No, I'm not cool and bitchy, that I am in fact the weird girl that none of them has ever invited to lunch. And then they hustle straight outta my library and back into the fray.
I've never been good at that cool, flippant, callous sort of vindictiveness that seems to be so very part of female popularity. I'm definitely capable of isolated incidents of vindictiveness, you betcha; and I mean them, too, from the bottom of my temporarily belligerent heart. But that sustained cruelty for the sake of honing it to an even finer edge that popular girls seem to live for, I just don't have the heart for it. Even if I could dish it out, I certainly couldn't take it. This gave me a lonely and awkward adolescence, but now as an adult I wear it like a shield; I am awkward, you don't want to chat with me! Don't involve me in your shit! Hear me
* HATE THIS PHRASE. So much.
Oh man. Speaking as someone who also spent high school trying desperately to have nothing to do with those kinds of girls, I really, REALLY wish more women grew out of this mindset.
ReplyDeleteThough a small part of me gets a certain amount of joy from their reaction when they realize I have nothing to contribute to their cattiness...
I guess they're always with us...at least now I have the self-confidence, language skills, and REAL friends (lookin' at you, here) to help sustain me through the new grown-up's playground of social pitfall.
DeleteI should probably print this out and keep it on my desk. WHICH WOULD GIVE PEOPLE SOMETHING TO TALK ABOUT.
ReplyDeleteConfession: I am an office mean girl. By association, obviously. It's the "cutting remark or snide observation" that keeps them coming back to tell me more. Rehabilitate me, yea?
Gossip-ception: BWAAMMMM!
DeleteI will wil help rehabilitate you if I can hide behind you when They come. We just have to use your powers for good and not for evil!
At least it's Hump Day? That doesn't sound like an office nothingism to me. You must have made them jealous of your sex life. Another thing you could say is "You bitch!" in a tone of humorous irony.
ReplyDeleteIt's hard to bluff when they can see I've got no cards...
DeleteOMG, you are so me. I am the uber magnet of these type of women. It inevitably ends with me being ostracized as I refuse to play , let alone understand their games. They somehow misinterpret my "leave me the f*** alone" shield as some form of challenge. I would have thought my deadpan face, when they tell me their bitchy deeds, would have been sign enough.
ReplyDeleteThe favorite time is when they turn their bitchiness on me after they misinterpret my "care factor zero" attitude for a sign I have some secret I'm not sharing. The silent treatment is usually the indicator. Tsk, tsk bitches, it must so exhausting to be you.
They love your pa-pa-poker face! :P
DeleteI have been led to believe that gossipy ladies love silent men; more auditory room for them you see. Perhaps start aggressively talking about golf/fishing/etc? It's an offensive defense...aha, that's it! Talk about sports TV!
LOL, that would work if I was a man ;)
DeleteAh. We have things in common, as I too, give off waves of appearing to, as my mother would say, shiv a git.
ReplyDelete:-) Loved this one, Kana.
Pearl
Hey, some gits need shivving. (sp?)
DeleteLove how the Spoonerism is far more violent, yet somehow less profane. Good one, Mother Of Pearl!
Brilliant. This is brilliant. This was my last day job exactly. People ranted and raved to me all day (despite the fact that I pretended I didn't see or hear them), because they knew I couldn't leave my desk and had to listen. To this day I still remember one woman's mortgage payments. Why she felt the need to tell me, I'll never know.
ReplyDeleteI know I don't have an office job, but when I was in hair school I would come home CRYING because of all the mean girls and the drama. It wasn't really directed at me, but being surrounded by it all day EVERY day was exhausting! I seriously considered quitting because I figured that would be my life as long as I worked in a salon with a bunch of girls. (Actually, weirdly enough, some of the boys, MARRIED boys, were smack dab in the middle of the drama. Ridiculous.) But I've been lucky enough to work with a group of girls who really want nothing to do with this type of behavior!
ReplyDeletehey! I work for big oil too! haha
ReplyDeleteI'm the only girl here. And everyone thinks I'm really nice except for the new guy I'm training. because he sucks and I don't have time to baby him. So yes, I talk about him behind his back.