workingWorking with woman is well, unpleasant. Working with an older woman- unbearable. I am a teller at a local community bank and in all my life I have never fully appreciated P.M.S. quite like I do today. P.M.S. leaves you with options, well three anyway- Pamprin, Midol, or Booze. Menopause, however, is malignant- growing worse and spreading like a cancer until it effects everyone around you.
You see, last night I had fully intented to take down my Christmas tree in order to haul it away to its death. However, this required a certain amount of energy, and such an amount is lacking after dealing with bank customers (not to mention the employees) for eight hours. So I got creative, and traveled down to my local Fry's food and drug store, and went in search of energy. My original thought was to get really strong coffee, but then I headed towards the pharamacy instead.
Coffee is good, but I figured if I could get the caffiene without the frequent bathroom trips, I'd get more accomplished- so I grabbed some No-Doz and headed on my way. I read the instructions on the back of the the bottle, which listed each tablet as about 1 cup of coffee. So I took 3 pills...which was a very bad idea.
I felt cold, jittery, and sweaty all night long. Not to mention the fact that I was nauseous the entire night, so climbing up a ladder to undecorate the tree was out of the question. I didn't sleep at all the entire night, and it was miserable. Not to mention the fact that when i eventually crawled out of bed this morning, there was a familiar aching in my lower abdomen. I was beginning to get cramps, whish was the surest sign that the worst week out of the month was about to unfold.
After my night of agony, going to work was just another twist of fate's cruel knife. As soon as I clocked in it was obvious that I was already behind. There were mumblings about an emergency teller meeting, a.s.a.p. Great, I had thought to myself, how could this morning possibly get any worse? What a stupid way to set yourself up...The meeting outlined a few changes in procedure- meaning that from now on during certain transactions each teller will be required to operate in pairs. Our partners were assigned to us. Read: Horrifying 
Before I go any farther with this tale of pain and suffering, let me tell you a little bit about Brenda, my most hated co-worker. First let me tell you that she is old, ancient really. She's probably about 4 feet and 10 inches tall, and about the same size across- although I must give her credit now that she's on a diet (meaning she now only carries about 20lbs. of junk food around in her purse). Brenda is a frightening cross between UmpaLumpa and Elf. She somehow inherited the orange tint, downward pointed nose, and oddly shaped ears... 
All of this could be forgiven if she weren't such an all around bitch. Brenda is bossy, and loud about it too. She has no sense of tactfulness whatsoever. It doesn't matter of you're helping a customer, having a conversation with a supervisor, or standing in the bathroom while waiting for a stall, Brenda will go out of her way to put her lousy ten dollars in. 
It isn't even as if Brenda is that steller a teller, she makes just as many mistakes as the rest of us, however "seasoned"
she no doubt is.
There's not only the bossy disposition, but Brenda has this habit of making things up about her co-workers. I personally believe that she may do this to come off as more knowledgable to our bosses, but she could just be vindictive as hell, in fact knowing Brenda- that's probably the case. The most recent time she's been caught trying this act of obnoxiousness was earliar this week.
I was at the water dispenser when I overheard Brenda talking with the teller supervisor. I distinctly heard Brenda say to the man, "Micah outright flirts with all our male customers, in fact many of the married ones won't even visit her teller station- they just wait for one of the more professional employees." I didn't even have to dignify that ugliness with a response, because my boss sure didn't...he walked away laughing. Kudos to him!
Anyway, Brenda is a monster, and as my supervisor Paul read off the partners he had chosen to work together, a cold lump began to form in my gut. As names were called and each pair smiled at eachother (albiet in shared relief they didn't get placed with the Darkness herself) I realized there only 4 women left. Paul finally made eye contact with me and as he read the next set of names, guilt filled his eyes and flushed his cheeks. I had been placed with Brenda.
For the next two hours, as the pairs of co-workers trained on working together with differant kings of transactions, I silently wished Paul a bad case of diarrhea and wished for myself a big case of
Corona. I dared not step too close to Brenda for fear I would want to wrap my hands around her fat swaddled neck and squeeze until her tongue turned purple and fell out. Needless to say, my own tongue was sore from alternately nawing off my own sharp retorts, and of course cursing Paul.
In the two hours I was trapped with that woman, I developed a sense of thankfullness. Suddenly I realized that no woman could possibly be that evil on her own accord. Then Brenda began fanning herself and griping about the change. And so it all made sense, well not all of it, but some- it was menopause. Menopause, for which there is no easy fix. Menopause from which no woman can really escape, not like P.M.S. that for now I can get away from by either popping pain relievers, antinflammitories, and getting schnokered.
So in in a very small way, for a very brief moment, I sympathized for Brenda the UmpaElf- but I didn't offer to grab her a cool water on my way to the kitchen- everyone has limits.
Sometimes I feel rage, complete, overwhelming, and exhuasting rage. Is it rage directed inward? Do I hate the people who cause me so much pain? More probably i hate myself for opening up to it, again and again. Why is it that people have this stubborn urge to believe in eachother? I mean, why can't we ever just leave those people who are obviously determined to head down the wrong paths to go and travel that path alone. Why do we not ever give up on those people? Why do we allow ourselves to be attached to those sinking ships?
They pull and tug at our hearts and resources, sucking us dry while continuously expecting more, and the friendship that began in lighhearted equality obligates us to graciously comply and assist in supplying our charges with the help they require. How far does it go before we cut our losses and walk away?
I'm so tired of believing in people, only for them to repeatedly let you down, and not only that but throw it up in your lap as if you're the reason all the bad shit is happening to them. Maybe that's it! Maybe all the good-samaritan-like friends in the world are to blame for the astonishing level of human failure in today's society.
Perhaps by continually taking these people back into our lives, giving them love, support, and the tools they need get back on their feet we are in fact enabling them to continue in their downward spiral. Maybe by not turning away from them and leaving them to their devices, we are encouraging them to rely on other people, instead of delving down into themselves to discover their own personal strengths.
I've decided that this is human nature. To embrace the failure in someone else, even if it is a repeat performance, is alot like embracing the weakness and inferiority within ourselves. Perhaps when we allow these people free run of our homes, hearts, and compassion for their problems we are in fact buying stock in our own future failures. Maybe we are buying into the concept that when we ourselves fail, there will be someone there. Someone there to pick us up off of our butts and offer us their resources, time, and compassion...
It took me a long time to have a one night stand, because for the most part I've usually had a boyfriend to take care of me. Well during one of my "off" periods with Craig, I met this guy named Blaine through a mutual friend at work. I think he was like her husband's brother or something like that. Anyway, we were very attracted to eachother from the start and hung out periodically from that initial meeting.
Our first groping session took place two feet from where his brother slept, literally. We all had taken a little camping excursion, and everyone had drunkenly fallen into the tent. Well I suppose this should have hinted that Blaine had very few limits to just how far he would go to get off. Ah well, live and learn. Anyway, I turned down the full ride that night and left him to beat off in the woods.
In our next session, he and I went all the way. He was freaking HUGE! I breifly considered faking a leg cramp. Then under the glorious pull of his mouth at my nipple, I began thinking he was just the right size. So we started fucking, and then he flips me over and takes me doggie style. I was thinking that was just fine, until it all got a little too violent.
This cat started slapping my ass, which at first kind of worked for me. Then he started to slap me harder and harder, and it stopped being kinky and just started to hurt. I stopped moaning and just kind of looked back at him. Then he started going harder and pinching my ass. Pinching hard, and I faked and orgasm and got the hell out of the kid's house.
Needless to say my experience with the one night stand, which is limited to that one experience, hasn't been all that great. It's better to know who you're having sex with.
