As I’ve mentioned before, I used to work in a pawn shop. I still go there from time to time to buy stuff (like today, when I got a $300 cordless miter saw for $90!).
When I was fire…er, asked to seek other avenues of employment (late 1995), I was the manager of one of their five locations. The manager of another location was moved into my old position. He has never gotten over it. Every time I see him, he manages to bring it up. It’s always my fault that he got sent there. Never mind that the vice president of the company was his older dickweed of a brother (a “man” who ruled, not managed, by fear and intimidation, and often bragged about firing people) was the one who assigned him.
I have since gotten over my nearly five years working there. He’s been there for maybe 15 years. He, like his brother, is a loser. His wife left him. His brother also had his wife leave him (for a woman - not that there’s anything wrong with that, but this guy’s macho-ness is sickening and it was quite the insult to his manhood) as well.
Do you have a Macho Grande (be it serious or humorous)?
I have learned to roll with whatever comes my way. A trait I wished I had attained many years ago.
On a humorous note, I have never gotten over the Spider-clone Saga in the Spider-Man comics and that’s been about 10 years ago. I haven’t purchased a Spidey comic since then (except the Wolverine/Spidey miniseries last year, and I bought that because of Wolvie).
I haven’t gotten over being scammed out of $10 when I worked at Burger King in 1989. I hate that bitch who scammed me and if I ever see her again, there’s gonna be trouble.
I’ve not gotten over being fired from a job at a Boy Scout camp by a man who sabotaged me because he disliked my father.
On very rare occasions I see two of my ex-boyfriends and the rage comes streaming back; does that count as not being over it?
I have never gotten over failing my first driving test. The guy who tested me made a big theatrical drama queen show when I approached a light going too fast- (he said “take your next right”, and I was so busy trying to see past the cars that were parked on the side to see where the street was, I didn’t see I was approaching a light.) There was NO traffic at all, and as it was as I approached, slowed,and turned the light turned green. Well, he carried on like I’d blown a red light and nearly got us killed. He failed me (rightfully) and humiliated me in front of my father (not right). Jackhole. I’ll probably never get over what an ass he was.
I have never gotten over lending my valuable reference material on Haitian religious practices to a classmate who was doing a project. I had spent years building a library that was amazingly extensive and difficult to impossible to rebuild. Not only did she not return them, she dissapeared from campus.
Apparently she was pregnant, left school and never returned them despite my repeated emphasis on how important they were to me. So far I can live with this. What killed me is that the next winter I was at a local used and rare book store. There, lined up in one section, were all of my books. I spent an obscene amount, far beyond what I paid to acquire them, to buy them back.
At the time this was my only hobby and I was working full time, going to school full time and had a young child. The expense was not easy to bear.
fruitbat, you win. Anyone who would sell off someone else’s books deserves nothing other than to be consigned to one of the less pleasant circles of Hell.
I dated a girl for six years - starting at age 15 - and she kept putting off our first time because she wasn’t ready. When we broke up after six very patient, understanding years (on my part), she lost it to the next guy she met after 3 weeks. It’s still the single most hurtful, fucked-up thing that’s happened to me.
Our concert band teacher in high school refused to promote me to a higher section my senior year. The kids he did promote were not significantly better players than me, but they did participate in his precious marching band which I wasn’t interested in doing. It was supposed to be an optional activity but I was put under enormous pressure to join, and I refused. Still chafes me to this day, even though I haven’t played trumpet since I graduated high school more than 20 years ago.
Mr. Sweeney, if you are out there that was petty and vindictive.
I think I’m over most of my various traumas and humiliations. This doesn’t mean that I’ve forgotten all of them, of course, and being a big drama queen I will bitch about them at every opportunity… but the wounds have more or less closed, that I can tell.
I’d still like to know who stole my copy of ‘Answers For Revised SMP I & II’, which I paid a considerable amount of money in Foyles for, out of my school locker in 1979. Some months later somebody found it in the Computer Dept and returned it to me; I put it back in my locker and less than an hour later someone broke the lock off and took it again.
I hope you failed A Level Mathematics. :mad:
In college, I had handed in a really great term paper. (I always kept one copy for myself.) Classes were over, but final exams were still going on. My “boyfriend” anxiously / excitedly came up to me and said that the professor told him he needed another copy of my paper, and there was no time to make a copy of my copy, I had to give my personal copy to the boyfriend RIGHT NOW, and he would bring it to the prof. End of story. I got a good grade in the class, but I never got my paper returned (marked up or not). I still don’t know exactly what the scam was, but I miss having a copy of that paper, which I thought was really good (this was before PCs).
Working for an insurance company, they had a program where they’d train you to be a programmer. First you had to take a test to be accepted. Well I had worked there a couple of years, diligently and unhappily. Finally I got to take the test. They didn’t accept me into the class. I went to HR and the guy (bless his heart) told me I had gotten the highest score of anyone. I complained to the big shots and my complaint was passed down to the dickheads responsible for hiring their friends’ children into the class. End of story, I finally left the company and am happily employed elsewhere (as a programmer).
I’m still very bitter about something that happened at the end of my high school career. I was a junior, second in my class, nearly perfect everything. They couldn’t and or wouldn’t make scheduling changes allowing me to have classes for my senior year. So I busted my ass going to high school durning the day and night school at college to fufill all of my requirements. Then they decided not to give me a diploma, because one of the teachers, the head of the history department, wouldn’t sign off on it. He was pissed becasue I would be leaving the AcDec team, which I was high score on for all of my years at school. He said I was ruining my life. Fuck him.
I don’t really mind that I didn’t get to speak at graduation, oreven have a graduation, what reallly bothers me is the way that people look at me when they hear I dropped out of high school. The majority of people don’t care, but some of tham are so insulting, so mean. I was at my best friend’s graduation party. Now she was her school’s golden girl. Validictorian, perfect SATs, perfect APs, perfect everything. They heard I was a high school drop out and acted like I shouldn’t even be allowed to talk to her. Like I failed out. Like I was clearly a bad influence, that drank and did drugs and would pollute her. That was almost two years ago. I want to go back to them and be like “I’m graduating from college in 3 years summa cum laude with a degree in chemistry and for the first time in my life, I have a community of my own, I’m loved and respected and none of this would have happened if I had stayed in school.” But I’m not bitter, no not at all.
The guy who laid me off/ fired me from my job of many years was almost immediately demoted from his managerial position. I worked for a lot of folks at that company for over 10 years, and he was by far the shittiest manager I ever had.
I guess I’m over it though, after he was demoted. Heh. Still makes a bit happy to think of it.
Two unknown girls in my high school who started a rumor I was going to blow up the school :mad: After Columbine happened, they approached a police officer and gave some cock and bull story about how I was going to blow up the school and had a ‘hit list’ and everything. I was frequently called into the office and grilled by the administration and police officers. Suddenly I was labeled as some sort of ‘loose cannon’ and much of the school thought I was crazy. I was a pariah in my graduating class, and nobody wanted to associate with me. I was suspended for quite some time ‘for my own protection’ much to my own objections; I was nearly suspending through finals which may have prevented me from graduating with the rest of my class. A rumor circulated around that I was going to set off some bomb during the last dance, and so they canceled the last dance that year, and everybody took it out on me. :mad: Words cannot describe the vitriol I have for these two loudmouths, they made my senior year a living hell, and almost prevented me from graduating. The bitterness I have about the incident is still strong even after five years. Anything I could have done at the time would have just made their rumors seem truthful. I wish I could confront the rumor starters and tell them how truly damaging their words were, unfortunately to this day I have no idea who said it, since the school went to great lengths to protect them from me :rolleyes:
Incubus, you could check the statute of limitations in your jurisdiction for defamation suits and if within the statute you could sue them as Jane Does. Then the police reports identifying them should become available to you through discovery.
Not that I would encourage you to do anything illegal or violent in response to them but maybe knowing who they are will offer you some closure.
I’ve never gotten past a grudge at the fourth-grade teacher who was fond of calling on people suddenly and if they were not on the same word as the rest of the class, treating them to a rendition of the Twilight Zone theme song and sending them to stand facing the filing cabinet for 45 minutes. No, I was not on the same area as him. However, if he had taken even a minute to check my progress, he’d have known I had knowledge three or four chapters ahead of the class. If he had bothered to ask my parents, he’d know that I literally could not hold my attention like he wanted us to. He called me Miss Twilight Zone constantly. To this day, the Twilight Zone theme brings up unpleasant memories.
When I went back to be a a Spanish tutor for his class seven years later, there was a child with just as severe ADHD as I have in his class. Guess how he treated Mr. Twilight Zone 2000- I’ll give you three guesses. And also, Mr. H, if you’re going to keep a rack of old National Geographics in your classroom, for ogd’s sake let the students look at them! Don’t say they’re above their reading level without checking to see what the level is. Don’t say they’ll mess them up. Don’t hoard them like some informational miser.
Screw you, Mr. H. And to my kindergarten teacher who told my mother I’d never accomplish anything- may you rot in a hell of bright hyperactive children that you cannot bring down to “gentle, manageable, quiet” or force to read primers when they are bored to tears with them.
That man destroyed my self-esteem for some time. The day I hear of his retirement, I will jump for joy.
