That's right - I made a co-worker cry. But, to be so mature about it, she started it. I asked a simple question in a well-thought-out email and I got a paragraph about how I should "trust" her and other veiled accusations about me and my ability to do my job.
Now, I'll admit, that last part made me pause as I have some doubts about my job performance quite often, but what good employee doesn't? So I may have been a bit persnickety back.
But just a bit.
So, after all was said and done - I closed up shop and went home and she, apparently, sobbed on a curb.
Really - I'm not that girl.
I'm not a "hear me roar cuz I am a woman" woman.
I am not a barracuda nor do I relish or denounce anything about women's lib.
Open my door. Feed me peeled grapes. Walk on the streetside of the sidewalk and you better be damn sure you hold the umbrella for me.
But I'm not going to pick a fight.
I'm not mean.
I'm not that girl.
So, maybe I'm in the wrong field.
Maybe I'm assuming a persona that's not quite puzzle-picture-perfect on to my current Holly-shape.
Or maybe I am just a "Killer" waiting to be released upon the innocent and ignorants that seem to multiply in my living area. Maybe I AM that girl. The one on the five o'clock news and the CNN special report who, finally, snaps when faced with yet another person who cannot seem to capture the subtle art of email tone conveyance and, more difficult perhaps to grasp, the two-prong drive-thru at McDonald's.
Either way, no one likes to have their whole nature poked fun at and labeled incorrectly. After all, labels are often placed in an area in the back, hard to read, and often quite itchy.
So, if you excuse me, I think I need to head to curb now.
Meh.
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