I’ve gotta give myself some props here. I held off on the rage for almost a month. Honest.
That last entry I wrote wasn’t fueled by rage. It was fueled by a different kind of passion I can’t describe.
But when you work with some of the idiots I work with, well, I don’t really know how to finish that sentence.
Let’s take ‘cheater’ as an example.
If you guessed that he cheats on his wife during work hours and goes on coffee dates at the SAME VENUE where we’re working on our events (while his wife is pregnant with baby # 2) then you’re a fucking genius.
This is a man who told an Italian woman, in her native language, during a business meeting that he’d like to take her to bed. It was his way of showing off that he’d been to Italy and knows a few broken phrases. Her horrified facial expression told me something was very wrong. She politely told him that it’s not appropriate to say that kind of thing, and that what he said to her in broken Italian is the equivalent of “vous le vous couche avec moi” in French. I guess he thought she was flirting with him cause he took her cell phone number, invited her out to parties, and told her he was single.
Of course I took the first opportunity to casually mention to her that he just welcomed a new baby girl. He denied it to her later.
Then there’s the assistant that has made me her new bff and will spend all day in my office chatting with me if I gave her the chance. I don’t mind the chatting so much, but it seems our friendship has taken a strange turn somewhere along the line.
You be the judge: Do you think it’s appropriate for her to tell me that her vagina’s too loose after having babies cause the doctors didn’t stitch her up well? And that she wants to get surgery to fix it cause her husband doesn’t enjoy sex, even though it doesn’t make a difference to her?
It’s moments like these that I wonder if I’m being punked.