You can rely on London Transport to strike just for the hell of it, as happened today and you can rely on me to tell someone like it is, when they totally annoy me.
Mr Mom has the truly irritating and demeaning habit of calling his direct colleagues (who are female, infinitely brighter, funnier and more attractive then him!) 'the girls', like they are some dolly birds or dimwits who can't think for themselves.
He tends to do it most often in front of anyone of consequence or authority, as if presenting them to the world as his minions, who are indirectly responsible to him.
Yesterday I pulled him on it, face to face (because he definitely needed to hear it) and it took every vestige of self control not to deck him, when he tried to dismiss my complaints as me "being rude" to him - how ironic from an unashamed insecure, whingy, male chauvinist.
Consequently today, to avoid seeing his smug cabbage doll face, I took myself off to sit elsewhere.
I powered my way through a stack of work - some people eat, drink or smoke more when they're pissed off, I work until my head hurts.
No comments:
Post a Comment