journalman's Diaryland Diary

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Nutshell Overfloweth

An understudy came into the office and played the role of “front desk charmer’. A friend of mine, she is, and she pulled it off brilliantly. The ‘little-menial’ tasks at a company, particular a small business, are the lifeblood of an organization.

Tramp/Sparkle (I deliberately call her both of those things) is a girl, the girl, who hurt me. She’s positively brilliant, and extremely manipulative to a fault. Her game is life, she plays them. She’s burned me out to them... I don’t speak that language anymore. I didn’t answer her calls. This is the first time I avoided her when not locked in the heat of some mini-battle. Maybe I will remain as her friend and see her, as she would say, ‘once in a blue.’ However now I’m glad that dust is settled between us, and that I’m smart enough to avoid aversive stimulus where I see it.

Petbuddy and I planned a mini-trip in Brooklyn. We made the trip, except the woman would not let me talk. It was unbearable.

With everything I said, there was a “but... I just, like...”. As if those words are a free pass to break my flow of consciousness. She doesn’t mean harm by it, it just causes a lot of harm.

She called from the train and insisted I leave immediately meet her near the station with my car. I ran outside, locked up, and drove around the block to meet her, after which she announced that she needed to use my bathroom. After all that.

She didn’t let me talk about a potential trip to Peru, about Ms Bower, and seemed to get annoyed at my use of the words “login and password”. After waiting 10 minutes for her in the bathroom, she didn’t let me speak for 60 seconds before interrupting to say “please summarize”. Further in her criticism of my monologue, she said that people who don’t work where I work get bored hearing about ‘work stuff’.

I only said it once, however in her critique, she said “login and password” three times. Kvetching, as they say. I was very annoyed.

On the ride home, and even after hearing about my car’s need for coddling after a burn-hole incident, she apparently caused additional burning SOMEWHERE in my car. We don’t know exactly where, because it happened as I was coming off the Brooklyn Bridge and onto the FDR Drive.

We smelled burning and she nervously asked me to pull over in a place where there is no shoulder lane... for 3 miles. In the rain and in considerable traffic, I scooted through cars up to Houston Street and pulled over by the exit ramp.

She resisted me tooth and nail even then. I said ‘get out of the seat’ as I raced around the car to check, and she didn’t. After I wet my hands in a puddle and wiped thoroughly everywhere.
I don’t deserve nice things if I’m going to treat them like this. Only tomorrow, I’m literally covering a hole in my pristine leather seats with an ‘Audi’ patch, to look like a label.

I’m a disgrace to such a nice car. I want to sell it.

My apologies if I’m rambling.

I have to get to bed because ML the Friday-assistant re-joins us tomorrow. She’s just a complete airhead, but I like her. A senior undergrad Arch student, ML came to us as a sponge, ready to learn. She’s never been late, and not once did she call in sick all summer. I happen to trust her.

I told her during her interview for a summer job that by the time it’s August, two things will happen: 1) She’ll live, breathe, and swear by Excel, and 2) She will know how to run a small business.

She called me a week into her vacation and told me I was right and that she wanted to come back. Because of her work ethic, her tremendously classy demeanor, her ability to make small work seem small, and impressive footwear/pocketbook combinations, ML will always have a place at the company.

And now I have to sleep. I know two things: she won’t be late, and she doesn’t know the keypad combination to get in.

1:56 a.m. - 2006-09-15

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