Posts Tagged 'bad bad people'

Kurt is a bad bad man.

My mom, the dearest, sweetest person in the world [seriously, I can’t say enough about what a wonderful person my mom is], called me this morning in utter hysterics.
She explained to me through her tears that she had called a man named Kurt Y.*, the office manager of a certain medium sized Downtown Los Angeles based law firm to discuss a matter.  The office manager told her that he couldn’t understand what she was saying and hung up on her.  My mom understood his comment to mean that he couldn’t understand her English, but then she thought better of it.  Certainly, no semi-major law firm [or any establishment short of the KKK] would allow its employees to speak to people that way, accented or not.  So she called back, thinking the earlier rudeness had to be a result of a bad connection.   This time, Kurt informed her [among some other choice totally bigoted bullshit] that if she wanted to resolve the issue, she would have to have someone who speaks English call him back.**   And then he hung up again.
I decided – as someone who speaks English pretty fucking well – that instead of calling Kurt back, I would send off an email to Kurt copying every name partner in the firm [there are five, one of whom has a name that is clearly not of American origin] telling Kurt how completely inappropriate and detrimental to the firm [and humanity] his behavior is.  And let me tell you, I drafted a beauty of an email.  One that was certain to get Office Manager Kurt in really big trouble, if not axed. 
But then I decided that I don’t want to destroy someone’s life by causing them to lose their job, even if they deserve it.   
I hope Office Manager Kurt knows to thank my English with an accent speaking mother for raising a daughter that won’t be using her native English speaking skills to get him fired for being a complete asshole.
* Name NOT changed to protect identity because this asshat deserves a public shaming. 
** My mother does have an accent [English is her third language, after all].  But still, she is completely understandable.  

Boo, roommates.

As I previously mentioned, my roommate is moving back to Arizona because “she is really, really, ill” [but really, me thinks, because she is getting back together with her ex-hubby].  She was supposed to move back last weekend, but instead, she stayed in Arizona [where she is allegedly “getting treatment for her really, really, bad illness” but more likely, she is getting busy with her ex-husband]*.
Thinking she would be gone by now [Why, god, why?  Why have I need forced to live with two consecutive loons??], I invited a bunch of people over to my house this Saturday for a little get together, Diet Coke style [aka – for booze].  When Monday rolled around and she had not moved, I sent her an email that said something to the effect of the following:: Hey, hope you are ok.  Not sure when you are moving, but I am having some people over on Saturday, so to the extent that you could not be moving on Saturday, that would be awesome. 
She replies that she and her mom and some fellow named John [ex husband??] are coming down to LA tonight and moving this weekend – aka Saturday.  They are naturally, staying at the house  [???!!!].
So basically, I am having a party on Saturday with a bunch of my favorite girlfriends, my annoying roomie that I have to beg my friends to tolerate, her mom, and possibly her ex-husband. 
And to make matters worse, she wrote me a rent check a couple weeks ago that bounced, which she has neglected to address.  So also, I get to ask her for money.  Unfortunately, I have to have some strange affliction that makes it really difficult [practically impossible, actually] for me to ask people to pay me back money they owe me.
In a nut shell, I am stressed.  Like, really, really fucking stressed. 
* To be fair, my roommate does suffer from endimetriosis .  And from what I hear, endimetriosis is a painful condition.   

Time Warner is the Devil.

I came home tonight to a non-working Internet. Usually, a few restarts and modem reboots later, I am back in business. [The act of unplugging my modem and then restarting it to make it work sooo reminds me of the old days when I’d blow into my Nintendo games to get them going. Times change…but not really all that much.] Tonight, my usual tactics did not work.

After about an hour [I turned my computer off to let it “rest,” which is absurd, because it is not even old!] and still no Internet access, it occurred to me that it was time for drastic measures. Tech support would need to be engaged. Frustration levels and blood pressure were sure to rise. Much time would be wasted. But problems would be solved! Order and Internet would be restored. Right? RIGHT??

I was optimistic.

Until I dialed the help number and heard the dreaded “we are experiencing unusually high call volumes.” Usually, this means “shit is fucked up.” But I needed my Internet. So I waited. And waited. And yes, waited some more. Finally, after twenty eight loooong minutes, George got on the phone. George was a very nice man, but he clearly had no idea how to solve my problem. Still, I was forced to go through his entire trouble shooting manual:: Restart computer, reboot modem, unplug modem, do a little dance, restart computer, etc. Finally, he gave up and promised to transfer me to an “Internet specialist.”

This of course, required yet another agonizing wait. Finally, a lady came on the phone. She, with all her vast training as an Internet specialist, told me to restart my computer. Again we went through the same old reboot/restart drill. Finally, an hour and half after I first called, I asked for a supervisor. The supervisor, while also an alleged Internet specialist, apparently only specializes in PCs. My Mac would require a special specialist, he informed me. And special specialists, of course, require long holds.

Another forty five minutes passed. Don came on and asked me what the problem was. I told him my Internet was not working. He told me to go the “start menu.” What the fuck find of Mac specialist would say such a thing, I thought. I have a Mac, I said. He then let me know that I would have to continue to wait while he checked out a few things [a.k.a – found a Mac trouble shooting guide because he has no idea what he was doing].

When he returned, he told me that the problem with my Internet was that there was a power outage that was affecting 2.4 million customer. Really, I said? Because my neighbor’s Time Warner Internet worked just fine [I am using it right now, in fact]. Don then told me that he is a level 3 specialist – the highest level one can get, the Delta Force of Internet specialists [the Delta Force bit is my interpretation].

And then…AND THEN. The son of a donkey’s behind hung up on me.

I wish upon Time Warner and that bastard Don years of parking tickets, gum on their shoe, slow Internet connections and receding hairlines.

Turns out, women are the enemy.

I recently wrote about the evils of The Mens. Turns out though, that I should have been watching out for the women instead, as they are the ones who’s special brand of evil cuts the deepest.

This part Friday, Fancy Shoes and I were dining at an Ethiopian restaurant somewhere in the middle of Los Angeles when he asked about whether I had encountered any person who knew him. The world being small, and the world of lawyers being even smaller, it seemed a reasonable question. While I had not, turned out that he knew not one but TWO people who “knew” me.

The first was a gal who had worked at my ex’s [not an ex mentioned on this here blog] previous firm. The second was a girl who had heard about me from a girl who had heard about me from a girl that I work with. Don’t follow? Well, let me break it down.

A girl that I work with told someone that I do not a know a series of unflattering half-truths about me. This person then told ANOTHER person that I don’t know these things. The second person that I don’t know then shared these things with Fancy Shoes.

When I first heard these things, I was a little shaken up, but I decided that I would brush them off. I know from my own experience, that when I speak negatively of people, unless they have done something TO me, my disparaging words typically stem from my own insecurity or envy. Since I know that I have done nothing to any person at work, I chalked up their unkindness to the same.

But as I sat picking at a giant plate of I don’t know what with my fingers, I began to get increasingly more distressed. The things the person were saying were beyond the typical “I don’t like Diet Coke” type jargon. They were statements that were very damaging, malicious and worst of all, mostly false [or at a minimum very misleading]. Whats more, the person that I believe is propagating the nonsense is someone that I lik[ed], that I am constantly standing up for, and with whom I thought I had a trusting relationship and friendship.

I don’t know what possessed the person to say what she did, but frankly, there is no excuse for it. Aside from the fact that the comments she made me seem like a seriously problematic person/employee, the words were not spoken to a trusted confidant of the original speaker. They were told to some asshat who then decided that without even knowing me one lick, she was going to go ahead and propagate the gossip even further. That is downright ugly.

While I don’t think that Fancy Shoes gave much credence to the things he heard [or at least that is what I hope], the fact is that he, or someone else hearing them, could have. And could have made their judgment about me based on what they heard.

Not sure how I am going to handle this come Monday. But I think there is a 90% chance tears will be involved.

The two things that did come out of this that were good were 1) another person from work that I consider my friend [but whom I briefly doubted] being hugely supportive, and 2) Fancy Shoes being terribly sweet despite my unrelenting tears.

Men may be the enemy.

I have always subscribed to the theory that woman are as bad as the men they date when it comes to deceiving, cheating, misleading or otherwise destroying relationships/other people. Personally, I know that for every instance I have complained about a guy blowing me off or otherwise “wronging” me, I have probably done the same thing to different person. But lately, I am starting to question whether women really are as bad as their male counterparts.

Cases in point::

1. Evil Troll and Her Evil Boyfriend:: This guy has now succeeded in successfully sleeping with or propositioning 100% of the women with whom Evil Troll has been closely associated over the last year. Arguably, Evil Troll deserves it. However, as far as I know, Evil Troll has been faithful to Her Evil Boyfriend. I think this means that Her Evil Boyfriend is actually more evil than Evil Troll. The thought makes me shudder.

2. Person I use to work with::
At the sweatshop at which I was previously employed, there is a woman who is phenomenal. Always positive, non-shit talking, funny and supa-smart. She had been married to a guy for about eight years [I totally made that up, I have no idea how long they have been married] and has two children with him [this part is true]. Recently, she has discovered that the bastard had been cheating. And not just a little. I was floor – FLOORED – when I heard about this. And sadly, so was she.

3. Guy my New Roommate is dating::
This guy, as far as I know, has not been cheating. He has however, managed over the course of 1.5 months to morph from a clever fun to be around guy into a controlling ass-wipe Aloof-Cool Guy [for those of you that don’t know, “aloof-cool guy” is its own category of man – described below]. The fact they he has spiraled down so far in so short a time is alarming.

4. Guy my Old Friend S. dates:: I have mentioned this situation previously, but he is still totally running around behind her back. She is kind of an idiot for letting it happen, but still, can’t blame the victim ya’ll!

5. Guy my NY Bestie told me about::
NY Bestie has a friend who just broke up with her boyfriend of a lot of years after catching him text messaging and phone calling with strippers. They had just moved in together no less! I am a reasonable person who thinks that flirting is ok in a relationship, but there is no reason a boyfriend should be text messaging and talking on the phone with strippers. We are not talking about friends of his who happen to be strippers [which would be ok]. We are talking about strippers who he knows by virtue of his frequenting strip clubs [which is not ok].

And there are more current goings on of guys misbehaving amongst my friends that I don’t even want to get into. But the point is, WTF fellas? What do you have to say for yourselves?

I hope that I am wrong about guys. Especially since I can’t seem to stop liking em. I would like to think that any future relationships I have are not doomed as the cases above seem to suggest.

This might warrant another Highly Scientific Experiment.

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The “aloof-cool guy” is the guy that is super laid back, okay with everything, never gets mad, and is almost overly balanced. He is the kind of guy that says things like “it is what it is”. This sounds good, right? It is, unless you are a normal girl [read:: slightly neurotic], in which case you will take Aloof-Cool Guy’s demeanor and interpret it as not being interested in you. This will turn you into Needy Girlfriend who is always trying to get Aloof-Cool Guy to tell you/show you how much he cares. Aloof-Cool Guy will never give you such satisfaction because it is not in his nature. This will lead to infinitely circular conversations like the following::

Needy Girlfriend:: Do you want me to come?

Aloof-Cool Guy:: I want you to come if you want to.

Needy Girlfriend:: I only want to come if you want me to come.

Aloof-Cool Guy:: Well, if you want to come, just come.

etc., etc., etc.

It is a dark ugly road ladies, watch out. I have seen it too many times. The main problem with Aloof-Cool Guys is that they typically can’t accept that their behavior impacts other people. And even if you tell them, they think of it as your problem and not their problem.

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* To one particular guy who I suspect will read this, I am really sorry. I didn’t mean to be a jerk, I just kind of didn’t know what to say. I am still routing for you on the Elite front.

Evil Troll infiltrated my Joe.

It was one thing for Evil Troll to lie to me, steal from me and be an all around wretched human being. But ladies and gentlemen, the bitch just crossed the line!!!

I went to *my* favorite Trader Joe/personal oasis, which I have previously written about here, and scored a ridiculously awesome parking spot. Feeling awesome, I moseyed on out of my car in a jovial mood, making a mental shopping list as I skipping towards the doors.

And then out of the corner of my eye, I saw something very disturbing. Inching towards me was a car that looked very much like that driven by Evil Troll – a black jaguar with ghetto tint – the same car that she was going to sell because she Soooo. Needed. Money. Or. She. Was. Going. To. Die.

No way that is her, I thought.

Then, I hear The Cackle [front window was rolled down]. The Cackle is this horribly awkward thing Evil Troll does that screams – HEY YOU, LOOK AT ME. I AM HAVING SOOO MUCH FUN!!! This caused my promptly to run into Trader Joe, sprint to the doors my cashiers, and scurry back to my car.

One thing really surprised me about my encounter.

I thought I was over Evil Troll and the horrible things that she did. I thought that I had gotten to a point where recounting the story was more funny in a tragic way than it was hurtful. But seeing her released a geyser of emotions. And all of them were bad. Despite my effort to be a person that is above the pettiness of hatred, it became very clear to me that I still hate that girl. I have never encountered any person who has betrayed me more. I can’t and simply put, I can’t forgive her. Ever. Not that she is asking for my forgiveness.

On a more positive note, i went to the gym for the second day in a row.

** Looking back on the original Trader Joe post, I am thinking maybe this Trader Joe is for the birds and I ought to find a new one.