2:39 p.m. - 2006-09-26
Fat Ass Takes on theTemp
Ok, so this is sort of a humiliating story, but not quite as humiliating as telling the world about my rectal health woes (the new bar by which I measure degrees of humilation), so I suppose it's ok to share.
Anyway, guess what? I am a fat ass. This news was broken to me by a surly, unkind woman in the Target parking lot last week. I was pulling into the lot while she was putting her cart back in the corral. She did so half-heartedly, and as soon as I passed, the cart came rolling back out, banging into the side of my car. I opened the door and pushed it out of the way to be able to drive past it, and then parked. And then, despite all the voices in my head telling me not to, I walked past her car and without stopping to confront her directly, said, "Hey, thanks a lot for letting your cart smash into my my car. Really appreciate your help." I kept walking toward the entrance, and do you know what this foul-mouthed wretch said to me, in front of the toddler she was shoving into her backseat? "Fuck you, fat ass." Fuck you, indeed! It wasn't even the "fuck you" that got me -- I can take that kind of abuse -- but no one has ever -- EVER -- called me "fat ass" (at least not to my face, or my ass, as it were). That stung! I kept walking and flipped my middle finger back at her, telling her to fuck off, though later I decided it would have been funnier to say, "Oh yeah? I'm pregnant. What's your excuse?"
Fat ass, huh? As I waddled up the aisles of Target looking for office supplies, it was all I could think about. I figured once I got back to my car it would have been vandalized by this lunatic, maybe with "fat ass" scrawled in a slutty shade of red across the back windshield, but apparently, she decided against it.
Fat ass. That totally hurt!
In my new fat ass state, I've become pretty damn cranky, especially about the temp. The heat is one thing, but she gets pouty, too, when her routine is disrupted, a trait thoroughly unbecoming hired temp help -- and one which I, three weeks from delivery date, can't seem to find the patience to tolerate. Rebecca told me that yesterday, Tempy actually confronted one of our VP's, because he was using our shared conference space without scheduling it previously with her. She proudly recounted the incident to me today, letting me know that she was appalled at the way the men in this company treat Rebecca and me. R and I quickly decided that she is a mental case, and made an executive decision to fire her, which made us feel slightly like bitches, but more relieved than bitchy. It should be taken care of by the temp agency in the next day or so. In celebration, I'm going to turn the heat way up and shake my fat ass all around the office.
