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Hired corporate assassin

In the past three days, I’ve either been fulfilled with a healthy vengeance against all of the assholes in my life or this whole work project is instilling within me my own personal set of brass balls, because I have been the epitome of a boardroom bitch, except instead of wearing YSL, I’m usually in flat fronts and something purchased for $4 at Old Navy.

Just yesterday, there were not one but two episodes, one with each of my workplace female nemesis and man, in both situations, I was able to analyze their offensive tactics in my mind and take them down piece by piece with logical arguments and fact-based examples. I really do think they might have replaced me with a pod person last spring at that unbelievably exhausting corporate training in Shermer before I embarked on the first project, because my god, I totally don’t even recognize myself anymore. Before, the best phrase in my arsenal was “Um,… ok?” and now, suddenly, I’m visualizing plans of attack and racking up scary management speak while couching everything with words like “opportunity” and “metrics” and “buy-in”.

I’m a little afraid, quite honestly. Maybe I’m the corporate equivalent of River Tam. Maybe you should watch your throat, because I will cut you, man, I swear to god, I will cut you.

I think I’ve just had it with supposed alpha females picking fights with me. I don’t know if they sniff a usurper or what the deal is, and it probably irritates the shit out of them that I refuse to take their bait anymore and instead just shut them down as quickly as I can because man, I don’t have time to engage in this drama. Esteban suspects that this project has just given me confidence to use what I have always kept hidden for fear of being impolite. Which is true, because I do hold within my brain a secret fear that Miss Manners is going to rush in at any moment and thwap my knuckles with a book of etiquette.

After the second coup, which was much more public and awesome and earned a “Holy Fucking Shit You Rule” IM from a coworker in NY, I just sat back and shook my head. Seriously, I should have ended the meeting with “Thank you all! You’ve been great! Good night and tip your waitstaff!” Hopefully it wasn’t a peak and I’ll still have some of that unleashed ass kicking for next week, when I have a two day meeting in Shermer and have to fix the entire world from top to bottom all based upon the brilliance of myself and my team of expensive brainy people. I am somewhat terrified by this in-chargedness, as so far the only benefit has been getting to plan the catering menus for each day. Luckily, I have a night of shopping with Poppy to be the delicious creamy filling between those two days of hell, so I’m cautiously looking forward to it all. Plus, we’re having rice krispie bars one day for a snack. Because whenever possible, I try to use my powers for good.

I think my mother-in-law might have hit her least favorite time of the year. During summer, she has the pool and her garden and outdoor projects. Then fall comes, and she has more outdoor projects and pre-winter projects and Christmas projects. Then after the new year, there is the taking down to Christmas and then preparations for their yearly vacation to wherever and then the plotting to cater the minicon and now? Now she has nothing. It’s too cold to do anything outside. There’s nothing coming up. She can’t sit still. She then must invent things for herself to do. Hence the e-mail I received yesterday.

We are going to have a St.Patrick’s Day feast!!! Weet, could you please take your allergy pill before you come. I’ve tried to keep down the butterfat but it’ll basically be in lots of Irish food. Here’s the menu.

Irish cocktails will be served before dinner. (Irish Kiss, Nutty Irishman Shooter and/or a Dublin Handshake)
Blue Cheese, Bacon and Zucchini Soup
Bibb, Bacon and Apple Salad with Camembert Dressing
Corned Beef and Cabbage
Champ (Irish mashed potatoes)
Bannocks (Irish oat cakes)
Apple and Bramble Cake with Bushmill’s Custard or Irish Chocolate cake I haven’t made up my mind on which one yet, they both sound so good.
Godiva Irish Coffee

Saturday night at 5:30 is dinner. Please come for cocktails at 4 or 4:30.
Please be very hungry for my Irish Feast!!!!
Love you,
Mom and Dad

She’s making everything from scratch. She has a list. She called me and grilled me about whether I knew what Irish Soda Bread is (answer: yes) and whether it should have raisins in it or not (answer: yes) and if I knew what Dubliner was (answer: a delicious cheese) and where I thought she could get bleu cheese from Cork (answer: not in Green Fucking Bay). She also called with a caveat that her corned beef with cabbage might not be the way my mother makes it, to which I replied “You mean, by making reservations?” because my mother has never made corned beef in my lifetime. It requires far too much patience and also, maternal instinct.

I tend to think that the universe or fate or karma or whatever abhors a vaccuum and will always seek to even things out. Physics supports this, so it’s not even all that wacky of a theory. And I think after the death of my great grandmother, my parental allotment was grievously short and so I ended up with a huge helping of Ward and June. And whenever I think that they are just being nice to me because I am married to their son, she’ll mention to me that my name was listed in three different places on the copy of Barrelhouse. Three places! And then she beams and I just shake my head and think, wow, the universe deserves a big thank you.

For the record, I’m not a fan of corned beef nor cabbage, but you’d better believe I’m going to take my allergy pill and enjoy every bite.

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