Today I learned: You can’t spell narcissist without ASS. Also? Some personality types literally can’t change. They’re not being difficult—they’re just wired for dysfunction. So hoping my boss will do better is futile.
He won’t. He can’t. System error: empathy not found. I’m gonna make a poster.
How are you? 🤗
I’ve seen better days, I’m somewhere between “whatever. I don’t even care anymore.” (survivor delusion) and “burn it all down.” (menopause metaphor) but I know everything will workout for the best because it always does. (is that toxic optimism? Doesn’t matter, I’m rolling with it.)
I hope you had a drama-free work week, received hugs when/if you needed them, and your boss didn’t leave you feeling icky. You know the kind, where you want to scrub the interaction off with scalding hot water, bleach, detergent and a wire brush from Industrial Brushware Industries.
I also hope you’re having a great weekend! I have movies, paper, pen and computer to keep me company. And when shit gets extra heavy I go back to bed.
I’m not sure I’ll make it through the summer. This week was sooo hot, like taking a strolling through Satan’s fiery butthole colon and I don’t even have a simi-let-aphor for the upcoming heatwave.
You mix the heat with the hot flashes, and I’m just waiting to go off.
C is for cupcake,
Just saying
candy
and co-defendant.
Yes and what do I know about Satan’s privates anyway, perhaps his asshole is freezing, If I get another trial invite to hell I will ask if he’s ok with the intrusion.
Also, I am considering writing to Underworld Inc. because I have ideas on how they can enhance the user experience.
Unlike my boss, Satan listens!
[Begin: Workplace Hostility Segment]
// ===============================
// >> Workplace Hostility Segment
// >> Topic: Cancerous Boss Rant
// >> Mood: Volcanic
// ===============================
// If you’ve had enough of me and my boss issues, feel free to skip ahead.
// No judgment. Just scroll past the next purple section.
// Otherwise, strap in for emotional fallout, reflection and possible poetic violence.
I’m on a mission to discover little-known tyrants from around the world. Although… I have a tyrant who sits right beside me at work.
I’ve written more poems and satirical profiles about my boss than I care to count—but if you’re curious, I’ve listed a few below. Whenever he behaves like shit to me (or anyone else), I deal the way I deal with everything: I write.
Here’s my shitty-boss inspired list:
- System Alert Pattern Error
- Pots and Kettles
- Non-renewable Energy
- Helpful
- With Intention
- Position Wanted
- Sound Mind
- Tactical Image Ops
I don’t remember him being this repulsive; my memory is bad, but my soul is keeping count. Perhaps at first, I made excuses for his behaviour, like everyone else does.
- Oh, he’s stressed.
- Oh, he has a lot going on.
- Oh, it’s a difficult job being the CEO.
- Oh, look at all the things he has to do.
- Oh, he’s a really nice guy once you get to know him
- etc. etc. etc.
And the best excuse, Oh, he’s genuinely a lovely guy outside of work. Like I give a fuck. How about you be lovely at work? That would be ideal, because I don’t need to hang out with you. I’d like to have a pleasant eight-hour work day.
Before and during this job, I disagree with many people, including the Chief Architect, the CTO, and even the old salesless guy. This thing with the CEO is something else. Even the current sales guy will piss me off sometimes but again, it feels different.
The CEO’s caustic shit is burrowing a hole into my being. And I refuse—refuse—to become a hurt person who hurts people.
But I’m also mad at myself. Because his last blow-up happened on Thursday, and here I am, Saturday afternoon, still talking about it. Still thinking about it. Still carrying it like some backpack with a ton of shameful bricks I never agreed to carry and I can’t fuckin’ take it off.
He doesn’t get to squat in my spirit rent-free. He doesn’t get to shape my mood four days later. I’m not the one who needs fixing. I’m not the one exploding and cussin’ in meetings, leaving emotional shrapnel everywhere.
I get to feel. I get to be impacted. But I also get to choose what I do with those feelings and who I become in response. And it won’t be him. He can rot in his ego. I’ve got better things to build than bitterness, like poems and posters and shit. 🙂 I channel anger, rage and frustration differently.
Do you believe in karma?
Maybe this is mine. I’ve argued with people possibly made them feel like shit.
Now it’s payback time—served cold, eight hours a day, in the form of my crusty boss.
(ok, 8 hrs a day isn’t accurate – maybe 8 hours every 2 weeks).
When something is so foreign and I don’t know how to deal with it, I need time to think and reflect. I wonder if it’s because of my autistic brain, or my BPD or just the plain old sensitivity or all of the above. Maybe fighting against who I am, in addition to dealing with his grossness, is taking up more of my energy.
There were too many times when I asked myself, Am I suffering from burnout? What can I do differently not to bring down this corporate tyrant’s petulant tirade on my head?
But fuck that,
Death to All Corporate Tyrants …
now it’s festering in my system
and I can’t forget it. I don’t want to forget it.
And I will not excuse it.
… Especially the ones with power and authority. Writing is my way of taking action. Protesting. During a venting session, my daughter said, “At least you’re getting content.” Take that for what it’s worth.
We laughed but it’s not funny. It’s akin to verbal and emotional abuse, but because it’s happening in a “professional” setting, we don’t use those terms? Instead, we say, Aww, the boss is having a bad day and we suffer through because we need the job.
I love what I do, but I hate working with this fuckin’ guy when he behaves like a first class douchebag.
// ===============================
// << End Segment // >> Status: Emotionally purged until the next tirade.
// >> Recommendation: Breathe. Journal. Hug strangers. Pet Mia.
// ===============================
Ready for another entry in my ongoing project: “Another Day. Another Tyrant.” We’re staying in the same region as the previous tyrant. That’s the only clue you’re going to get.
Another Day. Another Tyrant
Born on June 25, 1892, in a rural village to a wealthy landowning family, his father was a prominent alcohol-maker and landlord. His mom? A byproduct – she gave birth, that’s all that matters. Often, we blame mothers; Maybe he became an animal because his mother wasn’t around, or maybe she was a non-human animal as well.
From an early age, he showed exceptional academic promise, annoying classmates with his lightning-fast intellect and late‑night dedication to laboratory work. He pursued medical studies while frequently working through the night, again irritating his peers.
After completing his degree in 1920, he cemented his social standing through a marriage to the daughter of a prominent academic figure.
Commissioned into the military medical corps in the early 1920s, he returned to postgraduate studies at a leading university shortly thereafter. He impressed superiors with his drive by cultivating bacteria “pets” and running relentless experiments overnight. By the mid-1920s, he had risen to the rank of surgeon‑captain.
Between 1928 and 1930, he travelled through Europe and North America to study advancements in biological warfare. Upon his return, backed by powerful military patrons, he began building a covert research program that would later evolve into a notorious wartime operation.
The next time we chat I will tell you who this tyrant is and share info on winners/prizes from this one and the last one December 13: Memorial Day
BTW, I am thinking about creating a Patreon – no content commitment tiers or any of that, just something like a tip jar. I like how my creativity works now, I don’t want to put her on a schedule.
Sat Jun 21
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