Ya know, I may be moody and smart-mouthed at times, but one thing I am not is RUDE, unlike some of my privileged coworkers. That’s right. I said it.
Somewhere over the course of time the working community has been brainwashed into thinking that there is an obligation to be courteous to those they work with. This thinking is understandable considering the ordinary working class citizen sees his/her coworkers probably more than they do their own families. But let me ask you. Are coworkers paid to be courteous to one another? My answer to this question is NO.
Courtesy and manners are simply tools that helps one get what he/she needs for an expeditious assignment fulfillment and are more likely to get results than mean-mugging or keying someone’s car in the parking lot. Just because someone greets you with a warm salutation doesn’t mean their hearts are warmed by your presence. It means they are being nice to you now because they are going to need something from you later. That, my friends, is the culture of the workplace. Employees are paid to network in order to get results for a project that will make them look well enough to get a raise, a title change, a corner office, or a pat on the back when their supervisor(s) reap the rewards from their brown-nosing.
This morning I had the displeasure of forgetting the workplace culture and greeting, out of courtesy, a coworker that I don’t really care for. Call me crazy, but my mama did raise me with proper manners. What she didn’t do was RAISE ME TO BE THE SAME FOOL TWICE. The coworker that I greeted this morning, and I lie to you not, his initials are J.O. – oh how I wish I could drop his name here, however since I can’t (or won’t), we’ll just refer to J.O. as the Jerk Off in which he is – decided to look me dead in the eye and return that salutation with a muted blank stare.
Instead of hurling my building id badge at him like a freshly sharpened ninja star, I simply vowed out loud, so every person in the building could hear, never to speak to him again, even if one of our lives…or our lunches…depended on it.
As I continued my journey down the long dingy hallway, I couldn’t help but remember that old J.O., and by old I mean 27, works in the IT department, ultimately re-enforcing the unspoken promise that I will need him before he needs me.
In a word, “Damn.” In another word…or two…or four, “Oh well. Fuq him.”
Quote of the Week: “Friday is like a superhero that always arrives just in time to stop me from savagely beating one of my coworkers with a keyboard.”