Residual anger
My boss ran into a friend of mine last week, of the single, attractive male variety. She immediately texted me, “He’s really nice! Do you have a type?” I said, “Yes. How’s his 401(k)?” 🙂
Yeah, he doesn’t live nearby. But you knew that already. Why on earth would the universe put me in the same city with anyone?
I’m just glad and thank God every day that He gave me a friend in my own community. We work for the same company, just a few streets away from each other, and get together at least weekly.
Lady L is the reason why I’ve gotten to try all my favorite restaurants, go on awesome adventures and, really, get a job that I’m growing to love.
And I guess I’m musing about this right now because the universe has its way of kicking you when you’re down, but also lifting you as high as you want to go. And I think we could all use a reminder of that when it happens, so we don’t forget what’s possible.
I heard a rumor out of Ye Olde Workplace yesterday (not the Den of Iniquity), right about the time we’re all sitting around and evaluating who our A-, B- and C-players are here at the Tinfoil Hat Compound. (Don’t ask.)
And it occurred to me that the last of my beloved team has been officially disassembled. Any evidence of the magic that once was, is no more.
Sigh.
And not to offend the handful of talent there that remains, but as I sit here and evaluate myself and my own team, I realize that clearly Ye Olde Workplace is happy with a bunch of C-level players in control of what’s left of the asylum. That the people with the ambition, imagination and talent either left of their own volition, or were given a running start before the freight train rolled after them. Fucking stupid, is all I can say.
I won’t name names, but when Foot Fetish Guy and Stop Impregnating Your Poor Wife to Prove You’re Straight, not to mention the three-headed hydra that I described to someone today as those “who have no life, no sense of humor and absolutely no regard for anyone else’s ideas/talents/ambitions than their own. (And that’s not saying they HAVE any of their own)” are the only ones left standing, well, you won’t get a whole lot of sympathy from me when the devil returns to collect their charred little souls.
That’s their A-Team. A as in Assholes, that is.
Don’t get me wrong — they did a lot of good in the world. When they stayed out of the way of greatness. But in the grab for credit, for glory, for dominance and, ultimately, for ego building/preservation, they killed something that was downright invincible back in its glory days.
It’s almost worse than the Den of Iniquity, whose evil stench you could smell from five states away. There were no real surprises there. It’s the ones who polish up real pretty who you’ve got to worry about.
And it is kind of funny how I’ve risen past all of it. I am in a power-player position with the leader in the industry. I remember when I jetted the fuck out of town, one of those five had said to me, “I may be coming to YOU for a job someday!” And I remember thinking, heh, oh HELL YEAH when I get to say, nope, your dreams mean as much to me as mine did to you, Fuckhead.”
Methinks I just burned some serious bridges with this post. But I’m pretty through with cow-towing to people with the business acumen of a double-dong dildo. In other words, if I can just remain an A-minus-ish player where I am, my life will turn out JUST fine.
And so will the lives of everyone they crushed along the way.