I’m in this three-day training class here at the job, one of those long, tedious things that give me plenty of time to daydream and come up with plot ideas for future stories. And there’s this girl that sits at the table with me.
Nope, she’s not a lady, or a woman, or a Girley Girl. She’s simply a girl. A child, really.
She’s one of those silly/passive/ridiculous people that has decided to deal with her obvious shyness by being the snarkiest and rudest people in the room. Self-preservation. I get it. But did you have to let the door almost close on me? Yes, she was exiting and I was behind her and she let the door almost close on me! What are we, 9 years old?
I cannot stand it. I literally cannot. I mean, I sit there and I fidget, because I want to reach across the table and smack her wrists. And kick her toes. Honestly. And what’s with injecting profanity into normal conversation? I know it’s a product of having a feeble, uncreative mind that causes a person to resort to using to stupid, foul words to express themselves and communicate with people, but this is also a business. Wake up and smell the professionalism. And zip it.
Immature, foolish, rude.
That is all.