Because He Looks So Good

I've been in the midst of my semi-annual will-i-have-a-job-at-the-end-of-the-month panic. Our primary client is making ridiculous cost-saving (theirs, certainly not ours) demands. Even if we could meet those demands, we'd cease to be a company in probably a matter of hours. I've also been working on my annual accident report for another client and spilling what's left of my Xanax prescription all over my office. Of course, that's another story. See ggirl crawl around on the floor, searching for every single pill.

I heard yesterday that we've managed to get a new contract with an equally large company that we did some work for several years ago. Given the fact that I have less than one month's salary in my savings account, you'd think I'd be happy. Oh no. You underestimate me.

The contract was secured by (maybe) my most hated co-worker, whom I will henceforth refer to as "Lothsome." So, mean-spirited bitch that I am, I'm a little unhappy about the whole thing. If nothing else, this proves there is no such thing as karma. Up until this latest employment insult, I've been fabulous. Little Mary Sunshine with breast cancer. Yes, I find all of you adorable, my noble co-workers. Let me feed the homeless kitties. Let me cheer up those who are sad for no reason. What do I get? Not a damned thing. A car that's quickly degenerating into one of those Barney Rubble foot-powered models, among other things.

And Loathsome? The reason I started hating him in the first place is his narcissistic refusal to acknowledge that other people in the office may have contributed to his dumb ass success. And I do not mean me. The man doesn't even understand that to have a complete sentence, there must be a noun and a verb. Only one will not do (unless we're in the stream of consciousness world of my blog). When he sends out intra-office memos or (worse) business correspondence to clients, he refuses to use the word "I." They all sound like communiques from a distressed Batman cartoon. "Must get folders. Have no idea what should be doing. Will massage enormous ego." Know what I'm saying?

So what does this idiot get? A contract. Damn damn damn. I don't know the budget, but I'd be willing to bet it's big. That's just how the universe likes to screw with me. It just loves to point out that I can be as vindictive as everyone else in my office. I don't care. I still can't stand the guy.

Why does he think he got the bid? Because he looks so good. I guess I should give him credit for not thinking it's his overwhelming brain power that gives him the winner's edge. He does think he's a really bright guy, though. I never let him get away with that. I've already forgotten more than he'll ever know. I challenge his assertions, I question his know-how, I mow him down with facts. He rarely engages in intellectual conversation with me now. Wonder why.

Did I say mean-spirited and vindictive? I believe I did.

Oh no. Computer seems to be going inexplicably slowly for some reason. Must go. Save self. Resume quiet seething.