Drive Her Out

    It’s four in the morning and I’ve been trying to sleep for hours.  No dice.  That means that I am going to look and feel like shit tomorrow for my clients.  I am at an age where a little visine and moisturizer doesn’t disguise it all.  I mean, you know you look bad when the clerk at the local bodega says: “You look tired.”  

      Attention, men: You look tired is a euphemism for You look old.  Don’t say that to women!  We don’t want to hear that shit!

       I’m also freezing my ass off.  The radiator heat isn’t coming on, and my only space heater is directed towards the birds.  

       I also need a man to take my air conditioning unit out of my window and put it on the curb downstairs, but, as usual, there is no man around.  I keep telling myself that I need to start dating again, but I get so tired of dealing with men at work that I just cannot bring myself to turn on my OK Stupid profile and start lying to potential boyfriends right out of the gate.  

       I can’t wait for the semester to start.  It helps me keep one foot in the normal world.

       But….since I’m not in the normal world this month, let me give you a little dungeon gossip.

        The crop of new girls–some of whom have been absorbed from the recent closure of two commercial houses–really sucks.  Not all of them…but there are about five who are either irritating, completely oblivious to social boundaries, or possessed of some major character disorder. 

         Or stupid.

          Let me tell you about the dumbest one.

        This chick is so stupid that I think she is about ten IQ points away from an institution.  

         I don’t know how he gets up in the morning, puts on pants, and comes to work.  I don’t know how she buys groceries or pays her cell phone bill.  I don’t know how she completes the most basic daily functions of adult life.  I would not trust this woman to make toast.

           You know how you go into a room sometimes to get something, and when you get there, you realize that you totally forgot what you came there to get?

           She does that all the time.  All. The. Time.  She bursts into the room or my office, usually when I’m trying to concentrate on something, and looks around with this idiotic smile on her face.  Then she walks out.

         A few weeks ago, she mentioned that she was studying for a final.  I had to bite the insides of my mouth to keep from snarking: What final?  You’re in school?  For what?  An Official Certificate in Basket Weaving? 

         Now, you can’t blame someone for being stupid.  Or at least, I don’t.  People have different intellectual gifts.  Hell, I teach.  I know this.

         There is another problem.  Two of them, actually.

        First, she’s a bitch.  I hate to use gendered insults, but I can’t think of anything else to call her.  She’s a bitch.  She has a very rude, abrasive demeanor.  It’s so bad that I can’t be in the same room with her.  She ruins my mood.  You’ll be having a conversation with someone else, and she’ll break in repeatedly with comments that are not topically relevant.

         Two, she’s a thief.  Steals other people’s food out of the fridge, even if it has their name on it.  She stole my chicken, and when I confronted her about it (SHE WAS EATING IT IN FRONT OF ME!), she just laughed.  She steals equipment–I saw it in her locker, but I can’t prove it, because it was just generic black cuffs.  She cases other girls’ lockers.  She was at the manager’s desk one day, and the till came up short.  

         I do not trust this dumb bitch not to give a guy a blowjob in one of the rooms for an extra $50.  I do not trust her to put a guy in the latex vac bed and not accidentally kill him while she goes through his pockets.  I wouldn’t trust this bitch to operate a can opener, much less some of our equipment!

         I brought her up in the locker room the other day, and ignited an hour-long rant-fest.  Everyone in there had a negative story about her.  The tales of her idiocy were legion.  We’ve had some unpopular girls there before, but nothing, nothing like this!

         We sat down and had a little pow-wow about what we were going to do.  I swear to God, if I’d suggested that we all put bars of soap into socks and beat the shit out of her like that scene in Full Metal Jacket when she took a nap, every girl in the room would have gone along with it.

        We all reached an agreement.  A consensus.

       Drive her out. 

       Make her life a living hell until she leaves.

       And starve her–do everything possible to make sure she doesn’t make money (she’s got a plain face, but her body is pretty good, for the next two years anyway, till she hits 25).

        Send her to the worst clients, the ones none of us can stand.  Send her to Chopin.  That other gross dude who always tries to molest you.

        Don’t answer her questions.  Bite her head off when she tries to speak to you.

        I have never in my life–at least to my recollection–bullied another woman.  Never.  I’ve gotten intellectually aggressive with people in seminar, but that’s different–that blood sport is part of education.  I’ve done a few internet flame wars on politics listserves.  But bullying…?  No.  Because I am a Nice Polite Person.

        I am going to bully this one, however.  I can’t hit her in the stomach with a bar of Ivory in a gym sock…but I can do other things.

        My imagination is already at work.

        First up: bitch is getting a whole package of chocolate Ex-Lax.  I’m not even going to have to sneak it into her food.  I’m just going to melt it, put it into my fat-free chocolate milk, and leave it in the fridge with my name on it.  She stole my last two bottles.

         And then I am going to monopolize the bathroom, like some little 12-year-old girl on the phone.

        She will have to use the client bathroom (sorry, guys), which is gross.  I mean, it’s clean enough, but it has grody male client germs in it.  You don’t want to know who and what that bathroom has seen.  Trust me.

        Should we start a betting pool?  How long will it take a house full of dommes to get rid of her…?  A week?  A month?

        Drive her out.

9 thoughts on “Drive Her Out”

  1. If you have problems sleeping, there some things you might want to look into.
    Try diminishing your intake of caffeine, in coffee, tea and cola.
    Try to not do anything else in your bed but sleeping and having sex. So no reading, watching television or playing with your smartphone.
    Try to not have too much fatty food before bedtime.
    Don’t sleep during the day.
    Do something relaxing before going to bed.

    As to your last question, I’d say a week.

    1. Is that you, Anne…? Can’t tell…

      Anyway, I’ve been struggling with this for years, especially since I (mostly) stopped drinking. I already follow most of these rules. I will try the “no naps” one, but if I only get 4 hours sleep in the night, an hour nap in the early afternoon makes me functional again.

      But thank for the advice. I mean it.

      “Relaxing?” What is that?

    2. It wasn’t me, but the advice the other Anon gave is good advice! I too have struggled with insomnia, and establishing a relaxing before-bed routine is probably the single most effective strategy. Turn off the electronics, read something enjoyable-but-slightly-boring, drink something warm but without caffeine – herbal tea works great, or hot chocolate.
      Good luck driving the little idiot out! Personal conflicts aside, she sounds like she’s the sort that could make a horrendous mistake that would get a client injured and get the whole business closed down.
      PS – hope you’ve been staying warm! It’s been COLD up there!

  2. There is a saying in the corporate world, “your inbox will still be filled when you die”.

    A corollary follows: “there will always be an asshole at work”.

    1. You are more Zen than we can be about it, Jeff. I keep to myself as much as possible, but when I have to be in one of the lounges it is like being in a cattle pen. There is no work or overseer to keep everyone busy. Some work on their projects and everyone else is killing time.

      The only plausible escape is good noise-cancelling headphones. I already wear earplugs most of the time. Perhaps I should invest.

      Also, this person’s conduct endangers us all.

      But yes, there is always an asshole at work.

  3. Ex-Lax! Really? Ex-Lax?

    I didn’t even know that this product was still on the shelves. I mean, sure, 60 years ago, in miserable, constipated, post-war Britain many people used it as a way to keep ‘regular’. But in 2014?

    Children were threatened with Ex-Lax if they didn’t ‘do a duty’ daily. This was a good way of turning them into anti-authoritarian, anal retentive dissidents.

    The only thing worse was ‘California Syrup of Figs’. I hated California for years afterwards until the Beach Boys came along.

    Anyway, it occurs to me that Ex-Lax may have some unanticipated consequences if the lady in question gets caught short in the middle of a scene. Be careful what you wish for.

  4. It’s 60 years old…? Really…? I had no idea! Yup, it still exists, and you can buy it at any pharmacy.

    I do not understand some parents’ obsession with controlling their children’s bowel movements. Of course, you want the kid not to soil the bed, but beyond that, it is weird to focus on it unless it causes health problems.

    What happens to this woman if she steals and drinks my milk chocolate again is beyond my control.

    Das ist alles!

  5. It must be insomnia time all around. I know the feeling. Too much thinking makes it worse. It is 4am and I’ve been up for an hour. Your blog helps the time pass well. Good entries as usual. Stay warm in NY.

  6. “First up: bitch is getting a whole package of chocolate Ex-Lax. I’m not even going to have to sneak it into her food. I’m just going to melt it, put it into my fat-free chocolate milk, and leave it in the fridge with my name on it. She stole my last two bottles.”


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