Posted in feelings, work

big shot

“You had to be a big shot, didn’t you. You had to open up your mouth. You had to be a big shot, didn’t you. All your friends were so knocked out.” – Billy Joel

Sometimes, when I think of using a certain reference for a subject line, I’ll hesitate, considering whether I might encounter a future situation where the subject would’ve been better used. But in this case? I somehow doubt there’s much danger of that happening, because I hope to never encounter someone who fits that song more than my OfficeMate.

Today, I was reminded yet again that OM is the type of person who will listen to you ramble on (and on and on), and he’ll sympathize and converse normally. However, the SECOND he has the opportunity to bring it up to someone else? You can bet your sweet bippy that he will.

And not in a casual, light way. Oh, no. From where I sit, if he isn’t genuinely mean-spirited, then he was born without that little switch that tells you when you’re about to go too far. Today, for example, after lunch he brings up something that we’d been talking about, except he turns it around so that it’s embarrassing to me. Either ignoring or completely oblivious to the fact that I’m about to start fuming, he keeps chuckling as he continues to write an email about it to the coworker he’d just started talking to.

When that coworker emailed me a question about it, I wrote back with a decidedly unfriendly response, and I copied it to my OfficeMate, thinking that he’d get the hint that he was already well past the line of humor.

OfficeMate keeps on going, so I finally had to confront him. I said that he fits right in with the third grade mentality that he’d just moments before accused our coworkers of having. I said that yes, I like to laugh, but not at the expense of other people, and I added, “You’re just . . . mean.” I wasn’t as eloquent as I’d like to have been, but I thought I spoke pretty well considering how very angry I was. Then, as so often accompanies my anger, I started to tear up. I tried to sit there and get over it, but I couldn’t, so I had to escape to the ladies’ room.

For those keeping score, that makes this the second day in a row I’ve cried at work. Yeah, I’m not having a stellar week.

In this case, I’m mostly mad at myself for forgetting how OM is. I actually wrote “Don’t Forget!” on a sticky note and stuck it to my computer. Hopefully I’ll be reminded to not say *anything* to OM that I don’t want publicized. And mocked. And laughed at.

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