soapboxdiner

This is how mature I am

Cool Girl Who Is Quitting asks me yesterday, "Hey, do you know why the Excel log book now has some skinny columns and some fat columns, SBD?" Which, just so's you know, is of deadly importance and could quite possibly, you know, mess something up.

So, rather than yell across the room to her, "Don't worry, I was updating some internal links and other really critically important expert things no one else in the office knows how to do, because they are all Excel idiots and like it," I approach her desk and begin my explaination that "No, Chicken Little the sky, in all actuality, is not falling. I just did some back-end maintenance. All is well."

Only, New Girl decided I didn't need to finish that sentence. She decided that I really, really needed her to interrupt me mid-sentence so SHE could blather on about shit of which she does not know. Apparently because I'm an idiot to whom one must speak very slowly while utilizing large, exaggerated hand gesticulations.

That was the exact moment I heard something go *snap!* inside my brain. I don't know what it was, but I'm very sure it came out my eyes as the SBD patented Look Of Death and Impending Dismemberment. As I cathartically visualized putting my fist so far down her throat that her face turned inside out, I decided voicing that my irritation to her would not be good for office morale.

Because I'm known in the office as "The Temperamental One".

Whatever.

Instead, I just patted Cool Girl Who Is Quitting on the back and told her, "Oh looky. You don't need me to figure this conundrum out, New Girl here seems to know more about the log book I made and maintain than I do. I'll just leave you in her capable hands and go back to my desk."

Which I thought showed remarkable restraint. Because I really really wanted to turn her head inside out. So much so that once I was back at my desk, I was overcome with that yucky feeling of impending asphyxiation that accompanies anxiety attacks.

Which, just so we're all honest here, is the second one I've experienced this week because of New Girl (who also got the "promotion thing" I had been offered before she simped her way into the situation) and her antics.

So the girl who got my promotion is following me around, cutting me off, and answering questions specifically addressed, by name, to me.

Only when I went out to break I replayed it in my head and concluded my internal monologue with, "Do you realize that you wanted to kill someone and maim them permanently because they didn't let you finish getting four words out of your mouth? Is that TRULY worth murder?"

And while I answered, "Oh yeah, sometimes it's okay to murder in retalliation to rudeness," I also decided that after two anxiety attacks in under one week can only be a harold to that infamous "February Insanity" that all true SAD suffers can appreciate. And while I loathe medication, the only responsible thing I can do would be to handle this shit proactively, before I kill someone or - even worse - lose my source of income.

Isn't that grown-up of me to realize and want to be proactive? I rock.

6:13 am - 01.29.04
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