Things I hate about you... rude people with no shame... Like Debbie.

Readers beware – lurking through the city is a poorly dressed, and overly aggressive woman who likes to push in front of you at the coffee shop. Her name is Debbie.

 'D' is for 'Debbie'... It's also for 'Definitely should go and buy some silkner for her heat stressed, poorly died mop'

So, I'm at the coffee shop yesterday... There's quite a queue, but no biggie. My friend and I wander through the crowd to the end of the queue, which has come out the door of the establishment. As we wait the queue shortens and my friend and I step inside. Or we try to. Debbie and her friend squeeze through the door and move around to be in front of us.

But it's ok. It's a lovely day – I'm taking 10 minutes out of my otherwise hectic day to catch up with a friend, and get my coffee. If Debbie and her heat affected hair are so desperate for a coffee I don't really mind. I lean over to my friend and say 'Wow, someone's keen for coffee' in a very charming and relaxed (and quiet) tone.

'ACTUALLY WE WERE HERE FIRST. WE'VE BEEN HERE SINCE BEFORE YOU TURNED UP'

Um... what? Thanks Deb, but firstly there's no need to shout at me when I'm about 30 centimetres from the back of your cheap, rhinestone encrusted, shapeless black top. And while I appreciate your candour, I don't appreciate you announcing it to the entire coffee shop as though I had run down there and knocked you off your caramel wedges. I had been in the queue for a good 3 minutes before you shoulder-charged me and started yelling.

So, I reply with 'Wow, that was uncalled for' and then I do the mature thing and start talking about the fact that she was wearing peeptoe wedges WITH STOCKINGS, and her obvious love of muffins. Don't worry Debbie, there are only 8 people in front of us, and 10 muffins left, you'll probably still get one.

The most delicious part of the muffin, is the top

What REALLY bothers me though is not Debbie, her 'Proda' sunglasses and the lipstick on her teeth – What bothers me is this recent trend of people being overly rude and not caring. If I genuinely (and unwittingly) pushed in front of Debbie then the polite and respectful thing is not to mention it and take it as a lesson to be a little more assertive about your place in the queue next time. And then go and write a blog about it after surreptitiously taking a photo of me. It's not that hard Debbie, it's just being polite.

I'll freely admit that I'm fairly 'wasp-ish'... I don't see the need for big public scenes, and hysteria. Let's just quietly get on with our lives, and then do the respectful thing and talk about people behind their back. That way, you still get to release your resentment, and no one needs to feel badly about themselves. It's win-win.

Things I hate about you... APS buzzwords.

Friends, the following words/phrases make me want to kill myself:

• Value Add;
• Space;
• Pipeline;
• Inwardly process;
• Envelope-ing;
• Socialise (ie. 'I'm going to need to socialise that');

The APS can be a great career ground. There are many opportunities for career development, new people, interesting opportunities yadda yadda yadda; which is why my soul dies a little everyday that I'm forced to hear otherwise ordinary words abused and made into ridiculous APS management speak.

Ok, this is a punctuation example rather than a 'buzzword' example – but it's funny and clever, don't pick at it.

Let me pick an example from the list above... Say..... 'socialise'.

Me: “Hello overpaid manager, here's that document you asked for”

Him: “Huh?”

Me: “You asked me to finish this document for you”

Him: “Did I? How enormously clever of me”

Me: “Sure”

Him: “Didn't I tell you we were going to socialise it first?”

Me: (sigh) “No. In what context do you mean 'socialise'? Like how you socialise a dog so it doesn't bite people. Or you socialise a child so it doesn't grow up with its head up its arse... Were you socialised as a child? I'm guessing no”

Him: “Sorry, I wasn't listening. I made this great playlist”

Me: “Of course, why would you listen? Anyway....”

Him: “Anyway.... ??”

Me: “Socialise?”

Him: “Oh, yeah. I'll clear it after its been socialised”

Me: “THAT'S NOT A THING. DOCUMENTS DON'T HAVE PERSONALITIES. ALSO, WHILE WE ARE HERE, NO ONE ELSE LIKES HEARING YOU SPEAK AS MUCH AS YOU DO”.

Him: “Huh? Let me know when it's socialised”

Look at this crazy bunch of documents socialising. What a party :/

Now, I know what you are thinking. Clearly I work with a self-important douche bag. And you'd be correct. You are also correct in thinking that he likes to invent words, so he can say them, so he can speak more, so he can drive me to a brutal murder/suicide situation. But, this same week I sat through a meeting with a completely different area of the organisation where I learned all about 'envelope-ing'.

Her: “Unlike last year you will all receive your finance envelopes early in the year, to allow for better planning”

Me: (Silence – It's a group meeting, I'm not going to say anything because that would make the meeting go for longer).

Her: “blagh blagh blagh... we've been working hard to ensure the envelope-ing process is smoother this year”

Me: (Huh.. that's weird. Envelope-ing isn't a word. Maybe she just got tongue-tied).

Her: “la la la, envelope-ing... blaghdy blagh blagh, envelope-ing.... peas and carrots, envelope-d.... bean stalk bean stalk bean stalk, envelope-ing”

Me: (I wonder what would make me less intelligent: continuing to listen to this, or removing the ring binding from this notebook and feeding it into my brain through my ear...).

So, fellow minions on the lower rungs of the workplace – I challenge you. Let's not be 'those people' when we are all grown up and important. Let's not 'value add' to a document, for no real purpose. Let's not make change for change sake. And let's not invent words that shouldn't exist.

Are you with me? Like, totes with me?

Things I hate about you.... This mug

It's not so much this St-Bernard-themed-mug, as much as its what this mug represents. Which is nothing. I don't know why I have it, I don't know when I got it, I don't know why I haven't thrown it away... I DO know that I have now moved house twice with this mug, I don't really like it and have never drunk liquid from it.

I recently moved house over the Christmas break (I know, a stupid idea...) and the wealth of crap that had been hoarded was intense. I had always thought of myself as pretty thorough, and not overly sentimental, a feeling I was forced to reconsider while packing the 11 boxes of 'kitchenware' I recently rediscovered. 11 boxes? How many white platters and tiny cups can one man own?

This is one of 5 drawers currently filled with misc white platters

WHY SO MANY CUPS?? WHY????????

When guests would come over and remark on the abundance of 'stuff' in my house I would always blame my partner, and make some snide remark about 'Hoarders', but now I'm wondering whether we have a weird co-dependant thing happening...

These cupboards are doubled stacked... there are 7 sets of towels in there... 7!

Two shelves full of wrapping paper, ribbon and pens? Well... That's all necessary. Receiving a carefully wrapped gift is like getting two presents.

While packing I learned a lot about what I value, and what I don't. For instance, linen. I apparently value linen which is why I had four large boxes of it. One was labelled 'Nice blankets'... Thank god I had separated it from the 'rotten blankets', or the 'fire blankets'. I never think of my house as untidy, or messy, so I guess what I'm really left to consider is whether or not that's true... or whether, like someone on 'Hoarders' I'm actually living in a sea of filth and have become so accustomed to it that I don't notice.

Everyone likes a tea light candle. Apparently I love them because I had 300 of them to move from one house to the next

So, dear reader, next time I come over, please feel free to drop a platter on the ground, accidentally rip up some of my sheets, and throw away my St Bernard mug – not because you are mean spirited, but because you love me. Just don't let me keep the remains and attempt to fix the broken stuff... Not that I couldn't, because I brought eight tubes of super glue and three sewing kits with me.

Things I hate about you... my creepy colleague!

You know what? Creepy isn't cool. It's just not. Those nerds out there who think they are interesting and clever, and like to make people uncomfortable – you need to grow the hell up. But you know what else? You know what is the worst? WORST? My colleague Bruce (clearly not his real name... I'm not an idiot) who is completely creepy, but doesn't get it.

Looks friendly, right? Imagine if you saw that expression constantly. Seriously... it never changes.

Bruce is one of the most unintentionally creepy men you will ever meet. From what I can tell he doesn't have nieces or nephews, but if he did then he would be a creepy uncle. The one that the kids stop inviting to their birthdays because the other kids tease them on Monday. The one that the other parents eye off in the driveway to make sure he is supposed to be there, and isn't just hanging out the front luring kids to his van with sweets.

A van like this, perhaps?

But poor old Bruce has been afflicted with a huge case of creepy face, and is actually well intentioned, and quite morally driven. And they are reasonable morals too – not crazy Misery type morals – he is all for a fair go, he loves the gays, he respects women etc etc etc. The problem is that in demonstrating his love/respect for gays/women he goes too far. Every conversation with him is an exercise in him trying to explain that despite how he looks he doesn't have a woman locked in his wardrobe. Which only makes me wonder if he does...

Me: Hey Bruce. How was your weekend?

Bruce: Good. I went out on Saturday night. I went to the gay bar, but I didn't see you there.

Me: Yeah, you are aware that I don't live there, yeah? It's not, like, a 'thing' we do

Bruce: I didn't see you there.

Me: Yup......

Bruce: These two chicks were making out and they asked me to come home with them, but I could tell they were really drunk, so I didn't want to take advantage.

Me: Well, firstly, I didn't ask. Also, you know that watching two girls make out from across the room isn't the same as talking to them, don't you Bruce? Thirdly, I'm confident that never happened.

Bruce: I just hate when guys take advantage of chicks like that when they are drunk. Taking them home and doing stuff to them.

Me: Wow... who said anything about doing stuff to them?

Bruce: Nah, it's just really bad.

Me: What did you do to those girls? Are they safe?

And so starts a typical Monday morning at my desk. If it weren't creepy enough, Bruce plays 'gigs'. The last gig was at a licensed club where, and I promise I'm not making this up for dramatic effect, the bride actually requested that the bridal waltz be 'Working Class Man' by Jimmy Barnes.

My face when I heard this

Aside from the fact that he should of refused because of the sheer horror of it, Bruce went along with this; I've spent enough time with him to discover he genuinely believes that you shouldn't judge people (another reason why he's creepy – what is he doing with all his spare time if not judging others?), and you should let people just live the life they want. Too bad he has to do it by setting the example, and entering the local 'hottest man in town' award.

Seriously.

His mate entered him for a (cruel) joke, and he went along with it because, sigh, he 'hoped he'd get a girlfriend out of it' which is actually really sweet. Presumably the girl he probably has locked in his car won't date him.

How do you know you've got a creepo? Well, if he's anything like mine then....

1. He maintains eye contact while he asks me about my weekend. We all ask, but none of us actually care. It's the question you cover off on while you are signing on to your computer. It's the verbal equivalent of the 'smile-and-nod'.
2. He clips things out of the newspaper that he thinks you'd be interested in and leaves them on your desk. Capital C – reepy.
3. He sings to strangers on the phone. Seriously, a client will ring to ask a question and then they say a sentence that vaguely reminds him of a song lyric and he'll sing it back to them. I sit across the hallway and I can feel them get uncomfortable from there. And most of them are calling from overseas.
4. He says 'lactation' instead of 'breastfeeding'. Don't even ask how it came up.
5. His guitar case has a sole butterfly sticker on it. The kind of sticker a little girl would have on their pencil case. HOW DID IT GET THERE? WHY HASN'T ANYONE REPORTED THIS GIRL MISSING?
6. For a staff meeting tea he made cupcakes... with no icing.... just seven plain vanilla cupcakes... It was the creepiest thing I had ever seen, aside from No 5. There are ten people in our team....
7. He claims to be allergic to..... dust. No, wait, that's a normal thing. My freak claims to be allergic to the SUN! THE SUN!!!!!!
8. He went to the gym once, a hundred years ago when he was made from left over bits, and now insists on telling me about his (former) weightlifting regime. He brought in photos. He was wearing a singlet and tiny shorts, which breaks my number one work fashion rule – no men with bare arms – and is totally creepy.

Things I hate about you... other training participants!

Is it too much to ask that the rest of the world avoid putting their crazy in my face? Seriously, I don't ask for much – I pay my taxes (gladly), I clean up after myself, I'm always polite (to people's faces) – can't you all just keep your goddamn crazy to yourself?

Never is it worse than when attending a training course – because there is literally no escape. You've gone all the way there, you've paid for it, your boss expects to hear about what you learned... you really have no option but to sit there and get through it. And deal with the who's who of human crap that is sitting alongside you.

Exchange 'tie' for 'face/personality' and you have a picture of how I interact with people while at training courses.

Recently I had to attend a 6 day residential course with a couple of people from work (who were all really cool... well... mostly.... there was one guy who... let's just say he was really nice and friendly, so I hated him) and a collection of the oddest people ever to walk the earth. Once I got over the initial shock of it all it started to dawn on me that while these were a bunch of truly, and horrifyingly, unique people, they shared amplified tendancies I have seen in many other training situations – so, I have categorised them below.

1. Been There, Done That.

Quote: Lady: 'From my experience in Zimbabwe I know the Zimbabwe people prefer to eat grapes'. Me: 'Really? From my experience I'd rather die then listen to you for another second'.

I don't know why these people even bother coming. Regardless of what's being discussed they have either already done it, or have years of experience, and seek every opportunity to tell everyone, usually in a smart-arse tone. The worst is when they say things like 'blagh blagh blagh, and you would be aware of my poorly received research into this specific thing that is only vaguely relevant blagh blagh'. Heads up professor, no one knows what you are talking about, and you are only interesting to yourself.

2. I Don't Understand The Basic Concept You Are Talking About

 You know what? We've all been there. Sitting in a course, or a lecture and thinking 'I'm lost, I don't know what this person is talking about'. But like regular people we either a) frantically look through the course notes, while smiling and saying vague things until you work it out, or b) pretend your phone is ringing and leave. What we don't do is announce to the room that we don't know what's going on, and ask basic questions that are not course specific... they are fundamentals of, you know, being a grown up (ie. What do you think 'provide an example' means? What do you think they mean by 'United Nations'? What is my name? Why would I only die the tips of my shoulder length hair?)

3. The Compassion Lecturer

So compassionate, except to my eyes.

'My god, this is so important. This really is fundamental to everything. It's such a cornerstone, and really underpins the blagh of the blagh blagh blagh'. You know what Lady, shut the hell up. We are all here because we broadly believe the same thing, we all get it – kids, women, men, dogs, whatever else you care to bang on about is important and we should remember it. Consider it noted. Also noted is your loose grasp on reality.

4. The Creep

 You know the one... Shakes your hand too long.... Seems overly interested in your job or personal life... Let me tell you people, it gets to a whole new level of creepy when you are on a residential. One morning we are talking about the recent bomb-collar news story, when Creep Creeperton starts providing all this weird level of detail about the case, which he then apologises for. You see, he gets carried away on this topic because, and I quote, he 'likes it'. Let's just say I never allowed him to get close to my neck for the rest of the course. Other weird stuff includes talking without realising people are actually groaning at the thought of hearing more from him, wearing a night dress and pretending to be attacked by a kangaroo.

5. I'd Literally Rather Be Doing Anything Else



Do you think I could get out of this if I poked my eye with this pen?



 You know the guy... His work has made him attend, possibly in the place of someone else, and he would literally rather kill himself then take part. He sits through each session engaging as little as possible, and making occasional snide comments or snickers. Sometimes a guffaw. He doesn't hate you... he nothings you. He also doesn't hate good hygiene... he nothings it.






Things I hate about you... people who take advantage of my wonderful personality and helpful nature

So, I've had a new job for a while, and I'm really enjoying it. It's busy, varied, slightly complicated, has lots of shades of grey... Stuff I like. Plus, a great part of my job is that I come across people who are having a bad day/week/month/life and I often I can assist them to make their situation better. I don't think it's exaggerating to say I'm a better dressed Mother Theresa.

But every so often I get someone who turns up to my desk and tries to take advantage. Advantage of the system, advantage of my staff or advantage of my really lovely and caring personality. Either way, I'm not really as nice as I seem so when someone tries to pull a swifty I seek out opportunities to screw them over. I can't tell you how I'm seeking to screw this weeks barrel of semi-deranged monkeys over, largely because I haven't worked it out yet, but perhaps you can provide me with suggestions once you read about their RIDICULOUS behaviour...

 

1. The 19 year old who clearly doesn't want to work.

Let's call her Lindsay. Lindsay has worked for my Department for precisely 3 weeks, which also precisely how long she's been in the APS.

THIS woman is asleep at her desk because she's overworked. Lindsay is asleep because she's a lazy sack of crap.

Day 1 – Orders a workstation assessment because she thinks her desk is uncomfortable.... Sure... I can roll with that. On my first day I went around meeting people and trying to find the toilets, but sure....

Day 4 – Sends a text to 'flex' off the afternoon. I'm sorry, what? You didn't know what 'flex' was 4 days ago, why do you think you've got the right to flex off the afternoon? Oh, I know why, because you are an idiot.

Day 12 – Sends another text at 12.30pm to say she'll be late to work (she was due at 8am) because her alarm didn't go off.... I can understand this – I've overslept before... FOR ABOUT 20 MINUTES! I've never accidentally overslept by 5 HOURS!

Day 14 – Is late to a 'Probation Meeting' with me, because she didn't notice the time. You know what, Lindsay? It's 'time' to get a grip (see what I did there?).

Day 15 – Lindsay is out on stress leave...

Day 16 (tomorrow) – Lindsay is outta luck.

 

2. 'Disabled' Joe

This isn't Disabled Joe, but may as well be.

Before you start writing letters or sending me messages telling me I'm an awful person you should know I am a HUGE advocate in my workplace for people with disabilities. You might say I am THE disability advocate. I'm such a champion for this issue that I'm literally thinking of wearing a cape to work. Which is why I goddam hate Disabled Joe.

Disabled Joe has convinced himself, and no one else, that he is disabled. What is the nature of his disability? I'm not sure... despite several meetings he can't articulate it. He HAS been able to tell me it's not psychological, emotional, or physical however.

Anyway, DJ has clearly read our comprehensive information about how we (the Dept, through me) support staff with a disability, and has come to me to request all kinds of support. He wants a car park (despite the fact he doesn't own a car – yes, that's right!), he wants hearing assistance (despite telling me he hasn't got an auditory disability) and he wants us to ask all staff that need to meet with him to come to the meeting room that is next to his office (presumably so he doesn't have to travel... despite the fact he has articulated he doesn't have a physical disability AND I have seen him jogging at lunch time). WHAT. THE. F**K?

I will do anything I can to support people with disabilities, not only because its my job, but because I believe in it – which is why DJ has to die. He's ruining it for everyone.

3. My Workplace 'friend'

Imagine these two people are talking about foul baby accessories, and the perils of white hats...

Ok, this isn't so much someone taking advantage – just one of my middle-aged staff who is on the slow road to Maternity Leave and won't stop talking about crap. LADY, I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR NEW CHANGE TABLE OR CAR SEAT! YES I LIKE BABIES BUT YOU HAVE NO TASTE, ALL THE STUFF YOU'VE BOUGHT YOUR CHILD HURTS MY EYES AND I'M BUSY.

Sigh. So – dear readers, please, if you have any suggestions about how to tackle these awful 'colleagues' please let me know. I'm planning my revenge... now.

Things I hate about you... thoughtful people who try to make you happy.

So, I'm hanging out the washing when I hear my partner come home... He calls out... I tell him I'm outside hanging out the washing. I especially mention hanging out the washing because I want him to know that I'm working, and he should probably come and help... but I don't want to actually ask.

I didn't write this - but it's the kind of thing I think all the time.

Anyway, minutes pass... No sign of him. By this time I'm pretty pissed off. Here I am, busting my arse to ensure the washing gets done, and my fingers are starting to numb because of the cold, and he's inside 'relaxing' or 'sitting'. Seriously, what a f*cking joke.... Who am I, Martha f*cking Stewart? I decide that when I go in I will unleash some passive aggressive bullshit that will blow him out of the park, and make him regret his unbelievable, and inconsiderate laziness.

I storm inside, close the door forcefully (just hard enough so he'll suspect I'm upset, but not hard enough that he will come running) and start banging around. He asks 'Are you ok?' and I reply... with nothing. I'm FAR too busy and stressed to start replying to 'reasonable' questions that I have 'invited' with my 'behaviour'. Finally after banging around, mute, in the laundry for a while he comes to check I am ok. I curtly reply 'Sure!' in an overly happy and excited tone – with just enough sass that he should know I am certainly not sure.

Finally he asks me outright... 'Of course I'm upset. You're so lazy, you just come home and treat me like I'm a 1950's housewife. I should just go tie a ribbon in my hair and make you a gin. Perhaps I should also put on a polka dot dress and resent you for your ability to have a career and drive a car'.

Oh fooey!  I wish I could vote!

Well you can't Betty.  Go make me a sandwich, and quick about it.

 

He sighs and leaves, which infuriates me further... I storm after him complaining about how hard my life is... to discover that the reason he hadn't come out was because he had been unpacking an amazing present for me. And that he had bought me wine, and my favourite foods... and was starting to prepare an amazing dinner.

Seriously... Worst. Worst boyfriend ever. No, not me... him!

Well, what was I to do? I was dumb-founded. Of course, my immediate response was to point out that he was a complete idiot. 'Who said I liked Nashi Pears? I HAVE NEVER LIKED NASHI PEARS' (which is a lie... they are delicious and unbelievably juicy). Then I told him his choice of wine was horrendous (which it wasn't, it was my favourite wine) and stormed off into the bedroom...

…. to work out how the hell I was going to explain why I was forced to yell at him, even though he had done a very nice, and considerate thing. Suffice to say, I didn't do a good job, hence the public embarrassment of today's blog.

I still maintain he should have helped with the washing.