Happy cats make for happy homes

adolescence Alabama beliefs blogging calm change Chicago crisis crushes dreams family fear flint hills food friends happiness health being a hippie holiday home internship kids loss love magic memories money music parties perfection plants projects relationships relaxation reminiscing ritual school social work issues spirits sports stress style the South violence weather weather worries writing



Go now. Go.

There’s something about Sunday night
that really makes you want to kill yourself
Subscribe to this blog
for e-mail updates

Monday, November 28, 2005

Do NOT mess with me

So my co-worker, the one I've been clashing with.

The clash started mid-last week, after a few days of me stewing over some of her behavior towards one of my clients, and getting advice on how to handle it. Finally I broached the subject with her. Most of the people I work with--oddly enough, for social service workers--are heavy on the talking, and light on the listening skills. In that regard, I barely got out what I planned to say before she disagreed with me. It absolutely kills me how defensive people can get, though I suppose if a co-worker talked to me about how my behavior towards someone was inappropriate, I'd get upset, too. But I didn't even get the chance to get out the words "highly inappropriate" anyway. But that was that. She said she'd stay out of it and stop helping people.

Not exactly in her job description: "help people only if I feel like it," but hey. If it kept her from bullying my client, I didn't care.

Then five minutes later, she busted into my office, pissed off and wanting a meeting with me, my client, and the head supervisor. I let her bitch for a little while and said, "fine. Let's set up that meeting." (minus my client, of course.) Confrontational people unnerve me, but for once, I was one thousand percent confident. I knew I had done nothing wrong. I knew the stand I was taking was the right one.

We didn't end up having the meeting. Or, I wasn't part of it, even though she wanted me to be there. My two supervisors talked to her, and supported my coming to her as the "mature thing to do. After all, we're all grownups here."

And then I stayed out of her way for the next few days. I knew she was talking about me, but I just didn't care what my other co-workers heard. I'm not going to feel bad standing up for my client's rights.

I didn't know how bad it really was, until the top boss stuck her head into my office this morning and said, "she's been terminated." I felt slightly bad for her. After all, I thought she was a nice enough lady, just not a good match for the job. But later in the afternoon, the client I had been protecting discovered the now-ex-coworker had been calling other clients, threatening her.

What? WHAT? I want to fucking murder her. I can't even wrap my mind around a 45-year-old woman who thinks it's ok to act like that.

Way to prove us right in thinking you should be fired, psychotic bitchface.


Blogger metrogeekboy said...

I don't know how you handled her for so long! People's uglyness can really bare down on you. I recently had an ex just spew and spew such ugliness. You were really brave and strong. Way to go.

And I totally love "psychotic bitchface". Can I borrow that?


8:57 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home

This page is powered by Blogger.
Get awesome blog templates like this one from BlogSkins.com