Someone You Just Don't Like

A while back, Aunt B. asked us if we start off people at 100 and let them sink in our estimation, a la that Michelle-Pfeiffer-In-The-Hood movie or if we start people off at 0--forcing them to prove themselves.

I've always been a 100 kind of gal. And I've always been amazed at how some people slide down the estimometer like a greased fire pole. But recently I met a person who plummetted to zero so fast that they should be employed by the space program. I'll narrow it down and admit that this person is a man, if only because I don't feel like playing fast and loose with a fistfull of non-gender pronouns.

I've been aware of this guy for some time. Fate, it would seem, has kept us from intersecting paths for many years. Until now. And now, for reasons that I can't explain, I would really feel better if I could just break his jaw. That's probably the least Christian thing I could say, unless you add "with a tire iron" to the end of the sentence.

The really bad part of all this fantasy-maiming is that it is so difficult to articulate just why I can't stand this dude. Well, I could articulate it, and then everyone who knows him would know it was he I was talking about. Then they'd send me private emails that say "hey! Broken-Jaw Dude isn't so bad! I find him charming."

That's the trouble, folks. Of course you find him charming. You're supposed to. That seems to be how he skates by on his laziness and how he masks his basic inconsiderateness for other people. Even worse than his constant "hailfellowwelmet" forced geniality is his hyperactivity. He's just one of those guys that I would SWEAR snorts coke in the men's room between meetings. You know the type--fired from every other job but this one. And the bosses here don't want to hurt the feelings of his uncle or his wife or his small kids so they keep him on and turn a blind eye to his crap.

(thank you, blogger, for allowing me a safe way to deal with my rage issues.)