Today I have sent my work colleague three non-work related emails. She sits right next to me, I could literally turn my head about 20 degrees and be facing her. We talk constantly about pretty much everything so what reason is there to waste my time typing when what I have to say could easily go forth from my desk to hers? Put simply, it’s because I’m having a damn good bitch about someone that sits about a metre away and rather than scream, quite manically, in their face, I choose to send my friend carefully sourced images and notes depicting just how irritated I am at that given moment.
I’m not proud of this behaviour. Ok, so some of the things we send each other are riotously funny, but nevertheless I know it’s wrong to be such a grade A bitch. I know looking at someone and nodding amiably while plotting the funniest way to describe your frustration in email is more than a little bit mean, but in my defence, I can’t help it!
By nature I’m a really honest person, and would actually list integrity as one of my better qualities. People generally know where they stand with me because I don’t humour those I don’t like, I give truthful answers to any & all questions (sometimes to my detriment) and I try to avoid simmering tensions by confronting issues head on. That said, I do have a grip on social norms and understand that in some circumstances, it really is better to not say anything at all if you can’t say anything nice. Work is one such set of circumstances; which is why I choose to purse my lips and, instead, frantically tap my frustrations into my keys and wipe it all away by hitting ‘send’. Like I said, I’m not proud but sometimes a bitch has gotta do what a bitch has gotta do.
It would be nice to believe that we now live in an enlightened world where women show strict solidarity & do not beat up on their peers. I say it would be nice but really, would it? I hold my claws up, I love a good bitching session. A good few minutes spent spewing bile about someone whose smallest infraction makes your skin itch, does wonders for the soul. The huge spectrum of personalities pottering around on our little planet means that it just isn’t possible to like everyone. Maybe you can appreciate others idiosyncrasies, tolerate them even, but no-one, no-one, likes everyone. And if you say you do, then I most certainly will not like you.
So rather than live life teetering on the edge of confrontation at all times, or smiling sweetly at everyone while holding a dormant volcano of rage inside, it is a far far better thing to unclench those fists and erupt mercilessly to the consenting overtures of a willing accomplice. Ok, so the knife in your hand is going to end up in your back too at some point, but who cares? I know that the people I trust unwaveringly would not make me cannon fodder for their vino infused venting. Similarly, if you’re the subject of my emails or thinly veiled tweets then I’m not really your friend because I obviously don’t consider you one.
So yes, I do indulge in occasional shit talking about other people but I think I should be more ashamed of it than I actually am. I’d hazard a fair guess that most, if not all, of the subjects of my vitriol wouldn’t be entirely surprised, because in one way or another I have never given them the impression I do actually like them. And because of this, those that do consider me a friend are certain of where they stand. The moral of my story is to be true to yourself and all that other quotable crap. Don’t fawn and nod then whinge to the nearest person that you don’t agree, be upfront immediately and then whinge about it later as well. And if integrity fails because it’s one of those socially awkward situations, send your colleague an e-card, there really is one for any occasion, trust me I should know.