Conversations with Men and a Woman(or, Why Yvonne Is Awesome)
1) conversation with a boyfriend
Jane: So Bernice at my work keeps making these catty, judgmental, passive-aggressive comments at me every day, right? Like, she’s all, “Uh, I see somebody’s sweater sure is tight today” and “Yeah, Jane sure do flirt around with Mr. Donaldson a lot.” But not like she’s kidding. She says it all hateful and bitchy, like she totally hates my guts. And, like, I don’t know what her problem is. I mean – fine, she hates me. I get it. What is she trying to do, pick a fight with me at the 7-11 after school or something? I mean – what’s up with that shit?
Boyfriend: I’m sorry to hear that, baby. That really sucks.
Jane: I know, right? I mean, why do I have to put up with this shit? It’s not like I come to work to take crap from her, you know? I mean… what’s her freaking problem?
Boyfriend: She’s just jealous of you, baby. She’s a loser. Forget her.
Jane: Well, I can’t. It’s not like I can leave the freaking room. I mean, I’m stuck there with her all freaking day. It’s not like I have an office and I can just shut my door on that shit. I can’t even get out of her line of sight, for god’s sake. I mean, I’m just trapped there, like a freaking animal. God, I hate my job…
Boyfriend: I’m sorry, baby. If I won the lottery, you wouldn’t have to work there anymore. I’d buy you a house and a bunch of nice shoes. I’m sorry you have to put up with that, baby. You’re right – you deserve better.
Jane: … and it’s not even so much the things she says… It’s just the constant hate vibes she’s giving off. Like, what the hell is wrong with her? Is it that she’s just so miserable that she has to hate on me until I’m just as…
Boyfriend: And if I won the lottery, I’d have someone kill Bernice so she couldn’t annoy you anymore.
Jane: … I mean, what’s up with…
Boyfriend: Okay, baby… I have to get back to work now.
2) conversation with a male friend
Male friend: … and then I programmed the sprocket so it would reintegrate with each cog on an exponential basis…
Jane: Cool. That’s awesome. So, check this out. Bernice is starting her shit up again. I’m sitting there making this spreadsheet for Mr. Wiley, and Florence asks me what I’m doing, and I tell her “Mr. Wiley wanted me to make this spreadsheet,” and freaking Bernice goes, “Oh, uh huh, I know what Mr. Wiley wanted,” all stupid and suggestive, like she’s trying to say something about Mr. Wiley wanting to sleep with me or something, like making a spreadsheet for somebody is equivalent to some kind of sexual favor. And I’m like, Jesus, what the hell is this woman’s freaking problem?
Male friend: Hmm. Well, that’s weird.
Jane: I know, right? I mean – what’s with her constant insinuations? Like I’m inviting attention from the boring old white men upstairs, when really it’s just that I’m, like, unfortunately, the only person on our floor who knows how to make a spreadsheet?
Male friend: Maybe she’s jealous.
Jane: Of what? Of the fact that everyone’s making me do spreadsheets, or the fact that I could allegedly have sex with some old guy in a suit anytime I want? Jeez. I’d be happy to hand over those privileges.
Male friend: Heh. Yeah, I don’t know. That’s weird. You shouldn’t stress out over it, though. Don’t waste your energy.
Jane: Well, it’s not like I can avoid it. I mean – she’s always right there with me. I can’t even go down the hall to get away from her for a second without her telling everybody that I’m going to flirt with the mailroom guys or some shit. I’m just like “Dude – put down the glass of haterade.”
Male friend: Well… I don’t know what to tell you. Just try to ignore it.
3) conversation with a father
Jane: … except for the fact that I have this psychotically insane coworker, Bernice, who has this pathological need to make stupid, bitchy, hateful, passive-aggressive comments to me on a daily freaking basis. Like, my other coworker will say, “That’s a nice skirt, Jane,” and then this Bernice person will tell her, “Oh, don’t get her started. You’re gonna swell her head,” all disapproving and judgmental and stuff. And it’s not like I can just turn around and go off on her, you know? No… that would make me unprofessional. Then her asshole boss would complain to my boss, and she’d act all phony and hurt, and everybody would freak out and treat me like some disrespectful-to-my-elders villain. And the whole thing is totally making me hate my job and want to leave, but I can’t, of course.
Daddy: I don’t know why you let these things bother you.
4) hypothetical conversation with an ex-husband, had he never become ex
Jane: … and I just don’t know why she acts like that.
Him: Well, it’s probably because of something you did.
5) conversation with Yvonne
Jane: And so [detailed description of multiple instances of Bernice’s constant effed-up behavior].
Yvonne: No way. So she not only [paraphrase of Jane’s description of Bernice’s behavior], but she also [totally perceptive description of Bernice’s behavioral pattern that Jane never even perceived before]?
Jane: Yes. Yes! That’s exactly what she does. Yes.
Yvonne: So, it’s always either something about your attractiveness to your bosses – obviously because she’s insecure about her own looks, or else it’s something about you being conceited about your work, because she doesn’t work as efficiently as you do and she’s worried that your bosses are noticing that.
Jane: Yeah… You’re right!
Yvonne: And, I think I remember you telling me several months ago that she made a comment about how your mother should wash your mouth out with tabasco sauce for taking the Lord’s name in vain, is that right? So, obviously, she has some weird abuse issues with her own mother, and she’s had to repress any trace of independence or individuality she ever had in order to just survive. And now, seeing you be bright and sexy and outspoken just makes her feel that she’s being cheated, so she wants to impose her distorted sense of justice on you and put you in your place, basically.
Jane: Oh, my god, you are so right.
Yvonne: And I’m sure just feeling her constant hate vibes makes it absolutely miserable for you to go there every day. I noticed you’ve been coughing again – the stress is probably messing with your immune system. Do you want to go to Burger Palace instead of Salads ‘n’ More for lunch? You might need to take in some carbs.
Jane: [getting misty eyed] Yes. Yes.
Yvonne: Okay, good. Because you totally don’t need this person’s misery in your life right now. You’ve got a lot on your plate right now. You need to concentrate on you.
Jane: [sobbing a little] Yeah!
Yvonne: [parking the car, getting a good table, ordering Jane’s fave] I know that your integrity won’t allow you to fight back on her level. That wouldn’t be a fair fight, anyway… You know, if Bernice weren’t such a jerk, I’d say that you should take her under your wing and help her learn to be more like you, so she’d be happier and better at her job. But I totally wouldn’t blame you, at the same time, if you did go off on her for being so horrible. Or if you just left nasty notes on her desk or something wicked like that. No one could blame you, either way.
Jane: [mouth full of burger and onion rings] I know, right?
Yvonne: Whatever you decide to do, don’t forget that you’re awesome and she’s just a sad, miserable woman who wants to be like you but doesn’t know how. And remember that this is just your day job for now. Some day, you’ll be too busy and fabulously successful to even care about things like this.
Jane: [sniffling optimistically] Okay.
Yvonne: Keep me posted on what happens, okay? Call me on my cell later today if you want.
Jane: [wiping nose on napkin and smiling] Okay. Thanks!
Yvonne: [dropping Jane at most convenient entrance to her work] Bye!
Jane: Bye! [going back to office, walking to desk]
Bernice: [in transparently hateful, mock-kidding undertone to other coworkers] Here she comes – late again.
Jane: [ignores Bernice and whistles a happy tune]
THE END
