Return of the Step-on-me
After being Step-free for over two week, she returns a few days after the New Year. I’m trying my best to ignore her in the usual hour-long morning meeting where the sales department eggs her on just so that they don’t have to go to work. I don’t think Step has caught onto the fact that they ask her a million questions about her personal life just so they don’t have to answer their telephones. I’m not going to be the one to spoil their fun; however, I don’t want to listen to her nonsense either. So, being the rude person that I am in the morning personal-section of the meeting, I turn to my computer and work while they chat.
I’m very tempted to open up monster.com to look for new jobs as Step-on-me beings talking about her SPECTACULAR break. She bought a new Mac, a new printer, a new scanner, a wireless inferface, an iPod, a new phone, a network, a bunch of organization furniture and tubs and blah-blah-blah-blah-blah… She says how she really NEEDED a new computer, because her old one was 5 years old.
I reflect on my current computer, who just hit six years. He’s running fairly well at 6. Sure, he needs some more RAM and a better processor, but he’s chugging along fairly well. We just bought him a 17” flat screen, because the 15” CRT was going to break the desk’s monitor shelf. Maybe someday I’ll be able to upgrade his memory, but I probably won’t be able to buy a new computer for a few more months—if not years. I’m still trying to pay off that lawn mower…
And then she goes on to say how that she LOVES her new phone and how it syncs with her computer and her iPod and there’s SO MUCH music out there she doesn’t have and she’s been downloading stuff like crazy, so much so that she had to limit herself to $10 of music purchases a month (which we all know she’ll break that promise by next week).
Now I’m reflecting on my mattress. A hand-me-down, I’ve approximated its age to be around 15 years. I need to buy a new mattress with my Christmas money. I’d like to have a headboard, but that’ll probably come next year. Hell, I’d really like to have a larger bathroom, a garage, and another bedroom in my small house, but what we really need is a mattress…
Oh and she starts on her husband. I don’t think a single morning meeting has passed without Step-on-me complaining about her husband. He only has to work 6 hours a day and he makes WAY more money than her. She’s so jealous of him. He gets to go to Florida for work. She starts about how her husband’s boss got in trouble because he didn’t spend enough money on the holiday party. How he was saying the people weren’t having enough fun and they needed to drink more and the bill wasn’t expensive enough.
The sales department is soaking this all up like a sponge. Step-on-me mentions how she thinks that ICE should pay for all of their employees to go on a trip to Florida. I think this is a fantastic joke and blurt out a sharp “HA!” It’s not a joke. What the hell are these people on? I go back to work.
I’m in pain just listening to her gush about her fantastic life. I can feel Clark grimacing behind me. Does Step-on-me actually think we live vicariously through her? Oh these poor pathetic employees of mine. My subjects… they make nary half of my paycheck and they couldn’t even dream of having as much money as I do. I get free stuff all the time because I’m far more fortunate, but still life isn’t good enough for me. I must have more. More. More. More.
Somebody shoot me, please.
I found myself smiling as she recounted her “horrid” illness that she’s had for a week. She just wanted to die. I’m smiling. The sales department gives the appropriate, “Oh no! You don’t want that,” but I’m smiling. I feel like giving a nice long evil laugh.
Did I mention that she still doesn’t have me as her top candidate for the Graphic Designer position, even though the job description looks just like my resume? Yeah.
Dark side, here I come.
I’m very tempted to open up monster.com to look for new jobs as Step-on-me beings talking about her SPECTACULAR break. She bought a new Mac, a new printer, a new scanner, a wireless inferface, an iPod, a new phone, a network, a bunch of organization furniture and tubs and blah-blah-blah-blah-blah… She says how she really NEEDED a new computer, because her old one was 5 years old.
I reflect on my current computer, who just hit six years. He’s running fairly well at 6. Sure, he needs some more RAM and a better processor, but he’s chugging along fairly well. We just bought him a 17” flat screen, because the 15” CRT was going to break the desk’s monitor shelf. Maybe someday I’ll be able to upgrade his memory, but I probably won’t be able to buy a new computer for a few more months—if not years. I’m still trying to pay off that lawn mower…
And then she goes on to say how that she LOVES her new phone and how it syncs with her computer and her iPod and there’s SO MUCH music out there she doesn’t have and she’s been downloading stuff like crazy, so much so that she had to limit herself to $10 of music purchases a month (which we all know she’ll break that promise by next week).
Now I’m reflecting on my mattress. A hand-me-down, I’ve approximated its age to be around 15 years. I need to buy a new mattress with my Christmas money. I’d like to have a headboard, but that’ll probably come next year. Hell, I’d really like to have a larger bathroom, a garage, and another bedroom in my small house, but what we really need is a mattress…
Oh and she starts on her husband. I don’t think a single morning meeting has passed without Step-on-me complaining about her husband. He only has to work 6 hours a day and he makes WAY more money than her. She’s so jealous of him. He gets to go to Florida for work. She starts about how her husband’s boss got in trouble because he didn’t spend enough money on the holiday party. How he was saying the people weren’t having enough fun and they needed to drink more and the bill wasn’t expensive enough.
The sales department is soaking this all up like a sponge. Step-on-me mentions how she thinks that ICE should pay for all of their employees to go on a trip to Florida. I think this is a fantastic joke and blurt out a sharp “HA!” It’s not a joke. What the hell are these people on? I go back to work.
I’m in pain just listening to her gush about her fantastic life. I can feel Clark grimacing behind me. Does Step-on-me actually think we live vicariously through her? Oh these poor pathetic employees of mine. My subjects… they make nary half of my paycheck and they couldn’t even dream of having as much money as I do. I get free stuff all the time because I’m far more fortunate, but still life isn’t good enough for me. I must have more. More. More. More.
Somebody shoot me, please.
I found myself smiling as she recounted her “horrid” illness that she’s had for a week. She just wanted to die. I’m smiling. The sales department gives the appropriate, “Oh no! You don’t want that,” but I’m smiling. I feel like giving a nice long evil laugh.
Did I mention that she still doesn’t have me as her top candidate for the Graphic Designer position, even though the job description looks just like my resume? Yeah.
Dark side, here I come.
posted by Laura Mitter at
10:41 AM
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