the errors and mistakes
Something bad happened at work today, and my goal is to write about it without bursting into tears again. Hogsboro High, for all its faults, had a very inclusive English department (except for pockets of jackassery). One of the things I've had to get used to is that there are no automatics here. They invite you if they like you, not because they work with you. And me? Not liked. There have been many, many times I've had to bite back a hurt comment based on this tendency; Maeve is always coming up to me with a hurt expression and I try to have a stiff upper lip for the both of us. "I want to be invited because people want to see me," I maintain stolidly, "not because they feel they have to include me."
I made this speech on Friday morning, right before I found out that there was a girl's night that night that included every female in the English and History departments (except me & Maeve). I let my hurt show a few times, with a few of the more sympathetic attendees.
This proved to be a big mistake. Today, when I asked the hostess how it went, she said, "Fine. Just fine. You mean, it's okay if I have people over without asking you??" Her tone was the stuff of nightmares for a girl like me. I sputtered some question. "Nothing. I guess I'm not talking about anything," she said, refusing to look at me, infuriated or disgusted with the whole business of speaking to me.
I fled to my portable, cried for fifteen minutes, left a shaky message on her voice mail, cried some more, and managed to pull myself together with a brisk walk in the more-than-brisk wind. I made a tactical mistake in going to see Poppy, however. Not only did she get it all out of me, she was so guidance counsellor-y that I had an utter meltdown in her office. So once I'd cleaned up from that (and once I'd faced the realization that I was confusing this situation with that other one of which we will not speak), I came home.
Fine. This is why I became a goth; because if you're not likeable, you may as well flaunt it. From now on I'll just confine myself to three comments while at work: 1. Gee this marking's hard. 2. Pass me that book. 3. Lunch's over, guys. Extra points if you recognize the reference.
In much better news, I was invited to join Team Knitty at the CIBC Run For the Cure this September. Although I have never done a charity run (unless you count the CF walks at the zoo), I am honoured to take up the mantle to fight breast cancer. Clicking the link will bring you to my donation page, and I would be much obliged if you helped us out. Thank you.
Labels: bat masterson
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Don't make me send out the Blake. He doesn't listen to *anyone.*