I’ve had it with him.
S. a coworker.
He’s a bully. A son of a bitch. A jerk. Even downright mean or cruel at times.
I have to work with him directly, one to one, as a team. It’s the nature of the job. No workaround. No alternative. He’s on one side of the glass running the radio board. I’m on the other screening calls. We work face to face, literally.
He has zero respect for me. Z-E-R-O. His issues. Not mine. His character. Some women he hates. I’m one of them.
He spits on me, energetically, when he talks to me or when the job requires us to interact.
S. isn’t only a bully. He’s also an attacker. A cobra. No insult to the reptiles.
He’s attacked me verbally and viciously at the workplace. He’s attacked me in the most innocuous or minor of matters — things over which he’d never attack other coworkers.
For various reasons, I cannot bring this to the attention of management. (For starters, it’d likely cost me my job, not his due to seniority.) So I’m left dealing with it alone.
I’ve received excellent intuitive counseling on how to be in his presence. Share the workspace, sometimes in passing, sometimes in mutual work shifts, five days a week.
Guidance included protection. Self-protection with white light. I’ve been doing that while driving to work. I love my job. However, when he’s there, particularly when we must work together, I do not look forward to being there. Not like I used to.
Today he struck sharply again. (S. is very moody so I never know whether he’s gonna grunt bye or sling some bullshit mean mud my way.)
The phone lines for the call-in talk show momentarily blitzed out. (Speaking of Mercury retrograde!) Through the glass, I saw him, at the control board, turn all angry and confused.
Then he shot me poison darts from his eyes.
By his meanness, you’d have thought I’d just told him I’d rammed his car.
IT WASN’T MY FAULT THAT THE PHONE LINES BLITZED OUT briefly. Or that they corrected themselves quickly.
You can’t tell S. that. In his mind, it was TOTALLY my fault. And just another of the umpteen reasons known only to him why he’s got ZERO respect for me as a human or coworker.
I’m a very very sensitive person. Very Piscean. I pick up everything and like a sponge absorb what’s thrown my way. I’m easily hurt and I hold stuff inside unless it’s very very safe to express myself to another. He is DEFINITELY NOT SAFE.
That poison dart really stung. Still stings, 1.5 hours after he shot it through that pane of glass.
I feel like I can’t protect myself enough from him.
I’m stressed for having to work with him.
I’m angry that he’s robbing me of some of the joy I felt just being there.
I’m frustrated that I must handle this on my own (without management — and yes, it really must be that way.)
I’m disappointed in myself; that even with white-light protection I still get hurt and feel pain from an unsafe son-of-a-bitch cobra.
I’ve considered, briefly and not too seriously, leaving the two shifts that we share. I’m sure he’d love that.
However, I refuse to be pushed out by that motherfucker, to put it bluntly. Plus I need the work and the $.
Running’ll solve nothing. I’d still see him 3 other days a week. So bolting: not a good solution.
I’m a person and worker of enormous goodwill in a workplace. Truly.
He just spits on that. On me. Every time. Some days worse than others.
Learning to work with this is much fun as driving nails beneath my fingernails. Actually, that might be more fun but I’m not willing to test that out!
I was upset by his action. His attitude. His TOTAL disrespect. His action was unfair. Totally disproportionate to what occurred. His attack is one of several and one of more to come. S. will not change.
I wish he’d go away (he won’t), be nice (he won’t) or at the very least show some professional courtesy (he won’t).
So this falls entirely on me. Ugh.
Learning how to feel protected and safe in the presence of a Spitting Bullying Big Cobra: a work in progress and a life lesson. It’s hard.
Oh, and sure could use some if you happen to any lying around! 🙂
Anti-venom medicine
Allelujah, Arizona! 