Ginger, I just had to tell you “Texas Twat” was a great turn of phrase! He,he. I wish I had aname like that for every person who deserves one.
Not slamming Texans here, especially not Her Royal Texasness, Lynn! No, no. Just like the way the phrase sounds.
No one I work with even remotely deserves such a nickname, but some people I run across certainly do.
For instance, there was the Bitchy Banker (or the Bank Bitch, if you prefer), the Crabby Clerk, an the Taunting Teacher. From now on, they all get one!
Now, I must leave. I am leaving town so that I do not have to suffer through a Thanksgiving weekend where Texas Twat would join myself and two other co-workers for drinks. Ugh.
I forgot to post this on Friday, and since Monday was a holiday it completely slipped my mind until today.
When I told her, and Boss, about the Urban Legend, there was a hasty closed-door meeting in her office, and she sent out retractions. Hand-delivered, by her, within the hour. Again, on company letterhead.
Hey, HEY, HEY!!!
Me and (I assume, for lack of any real evidence that might bolster my somewhat weak position) astro resent this remark highly!!! (Well, me, anyway… I haven’t actually corresponded with astro so I can’t speak for him even though I already did, but still!)
(Come to think of it, I don’t really resent this remark all that much… well crap! And here I was all set to give jarbabyj a ‘mad’ smiley… crap. My designs lie all in ruin. I shake my fist in defiance and slip away into the night!!!)
Ginger SCORES! One point for all the downtrodden pink-collar office workers in the world!
I told the Better Half about your OP and your once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for scoring when you first posted it, and his reaction was a hesitant, “Gee, that doesn’t sound very–nice–isn’t there some way she can correct this woman without alienating her?”
I told him, “Sweetie, it’s plain to see that you’ve never worked in an office full of women…”
[struts out of thread humming, "Workin’ NINE to FIVE…]
Thanks, Duck Duck Goose. That’s about exactly how I felt.
And, spacedmanspliff, honey, you must have been lurking in the pit for quite a while before you started posting. Since, you know, I’m hardly evil, and all. Except the past month.
Me too! I have the A.B. woo-hooo! Extra fancy-schmancy!
But I would never sign that after my name. And being a few months away from my PhD, I can confirm that PhDs are no smarter than anyone else. They may have better persistence in the face of utterly dull research, but that’s hardly something to brag about.
The only way you’ll ever see a “PhD” after my name is if I write a non-fiction book and my publisher demands it. In other words, you never will see it.
Ginger, I loved that she had a retract it personally. heh heh.
Cranky, you haven’t got any idea how very pleased I am that she had to do it, as well.
I will admit to a little bit of delightful squirming in my chair.
Ginger
Who has some letters after her name but doesn’t use them, because it’s pretentious.
Well done, Ginger. Several years ago, in the Tar Pit Years before the Internet invaded everyday life, I (or, rather, my department) received in the mail a much-photocopied business card request regarding the very same brain-cancer-suffering Craig Shergold. It was early enough in the urban legend’s history that his name hadn’t mutated, but the rest of the tale was intact.
Because this was pre-widespread-email, the original story was a grainy photocopy, and was followed by a few chain-letter-style pages of addresses and contacts that had accumulated as the story was routed around. Check this out: I actually took the time to set up a mail merge and I typed in all the names and addresses I could find in the mailing. Then I sent a letter to the moron who had sent the thing to us, cc-ing the entire group of previous recipients, explaining the Straight Dope and begging people to just nail the goddamn lid shut on it. I don’t remember exactly how many there were, but it was more than a hundred. (You better believe I expressed many thanks for the unsecured postage meter.)
I never heard any response, but I never got that request again. Not via email, anyway. And regardless of the lack of feedback, I felt good: Ignorance was fought that day.
I know- we were on the phone at the time. Gee…a blow to my male ego to find out that it wasn’t my swainly words of torrid seduction that had you squriming, it was the reviled Texas Twat.
