The Coworker Conundrum: The Foul Fight to the Finish

Having to work with others is perhaps the most aggravating part of being in the work force. The attitudes, lies, passive aggression, and ridiculous expectations can work, work, work, work, work your nerve to no end.

Here are some tips on how to defeat those snarky, pseudo-professional, jerk-off coworkers that are high off their own hubris.

Passive aggressive clap-back emails that won’t get you in trouble:

“As per my last email…”
“If you’d more closely examine your records…”
“Duly noted, however…”
“I’ve copied others on this email in order to clarify further…”
“In the future, I would be more comfortable if you…”

When snitches get stitches, but haven’t fallen in double ditches:

“I feel that the reports to higher up faculty was an unnecessary detriment to a healthy work environment.”
“Our working relationship is being affected by your tendency to unnecessarily involve others.”
“Your actions are leading me to believe that you are unhappy with my work.”

When you’re being given ridiculous and condescending feedback:

Act stupid until they’re dizzy: “Can you explain that more?” “I’m hearing you, but I don’t understand.” “What does that mean?” “Why?” “Why?” “Why?” “I’m still not following.” “This isn’t clear.” “Why?” “Why?” “Why?”

When all else fails:

FUCK THIS SHIT. I QUIT.

Angry Empty Expressions of Anti-Adulatory Excitement

Today, my boss brought me into her office just to talk. Somewhere along the lines of the conversation, she said that, when I’m quiet, I have facial expressions that make me seem angry.

Which is an unfortunate problem for those of us with Resting Bitch Face.

However, if my facial expressions seem angry during a work gig, it could be because I have a short attention-span, and we sit and look at powerpoints for 3-4 hours at once. I can’t stay with you for that long. One hour in, and I’m gone until you send us packing.

Which is a pity, because I know that the presentations are excellent.

I zone out completely for hours at a time, just thinking about the stories I want to get home and finish.

Because seriously, living in a fictional world beats the fuck out of the real one.

But it isn’t a case of RBF that makes me look like I’m ready to pounce for bloody murder. Not all the tales I think up in my head are pleasant. Most of them are pretty damn dreary. I’d need pharmaceutical help if I was smiling while I was dreaming up a scenario very reminiscent of a scene from Passion of the Christ.

Alright, not Passion of the Christ, but on a scale of one to terrifying, I’m probably swimming somewhere in the realm of a chainsaw massacre. Just not in Texas.

Connecticut. Yeah. In Connecticut.

The other problem she brought to my attention is that I tend to say things that make it seem like I’m lazy and unwilling to work.

I do say things of that nature, but it’s always in jest. I can’t control my mouth. I make jokes when I’m uncomfortable. Anxiety blinds my rationality.

Excuses, excuses. Get it together.

Time to get to the chopper. This world ain’t big enough for all of us, hombre. I’ll make you an offer you can’t refuse. Funny racist Arabic phrase. Everybody start Kung Fu Fighting. Lemme just cause two World Wars.

I have a right to bear arms.

‘Murica.

Adulting Anxiety

Up until this point in my life, I have been in school. I have faced the real world in small doses. I fell flat on my face when I tried to go into Journalism after college, and so I went to grad school for Psych. I was supposed to have two years before I had to fall into a respectable field of work.

But grad school wants 600 hours of psych work in order for me to graduate. So, I am starting my internship at a Mental Healthcare Facility.

I am so not ready to adult this hardcore.

Then again, who’s ever ready?

Oh, right. Normal people.