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Friday, July 04, 2008

the last of the mojitos

Originally uploaded by kristalynn.
recently, a project manager decided to call me up, yell at me, and then hang up.

"would you read the document before you start giving me a hard time!" he shouted.

he had never sent me said document.

it was a holiday. and a sunny one at that. his abuse, in addition to much else, resulted in my laying down and crying. my sinuses and my eyelids immediately swelled up.

habitually, i would have canceled my dinner plans for the evening, but i knew it would be okay, perhaps even encouraged, to show up in a swollen, red, and streaky state. the hostess was no stranger to similar meltdowns. i once counseled her in the arts of applying ice directly to the maxillofacial area so we could attend a taco dinner party.

"the gay men will make you feel better..." i cooed.

in contrast to making people cry, i've noticed that certain bits of miscellaneous information make them happy.

i love informing the neighborhood eccentric that i've gone drinking with a mutual friend. being almost permanently depressed, it brings a kind of wideness to his eyes never otherwise witnessed. he thinks she holes herself up.

"why did you tell C that we made all those homemade margaritas?" she was kinda mad.

"he just gets so happy..."

when catsitting, i decided to barbecue some sirloin burgers on the grill. the gas ran out.

"now they're gonna know you used their barbecue," said a friend.

"i feel it will make them happy."

when i went to give the keys back, i informed them that the cat only made appearances from day 2 forward and that i used all the gas in the grill.

"oh... i'm happy you used the barbecue," one said while the other smiled.

i loved telling my boyfriend that i was going for a run. he forgot everything else, if just for a moment.

"watch your knee. stay on the trails. here, have some gatorade. you lose too many electrolytes." he watched carefully as i tied up my shoes. "not too tight... remember last time."

my project manager called again today. he didn't yell. his tactic was to pretend it never happened. my tactic was to be professional and business-like. i've never been so cold.


At July 12, 2008, Blogger Karen said...

Hate mean people. Especially in leadership roles. What a jerk he was to you.

One of the editors I worked with way back when at the newspaper was brilliant with nasty people like that. She would interrupt softly and say firmly, "Sorry. I can't listen to you when you're speaking like that. Get back to me when you've calmed down."

Hah! I never seem to remember it when I need to, but I'm going to one of these days....


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