Virgil Thwarts Mooch With Bitch

The bitchiness about my work situation is beginning to set in. Apart from the fact that I've bitched about it to everyone within earshot--Batmite was actually the first person to hear about how skank this coworker is--I've now taken it to the next level. That's right, it's time for passive-agressiveness. Full blown bitch is yet to come. After all, I have to work with her for at least a year. If we're going to loathe the sight of each other, it might as well be later rather than sooner. As Director/Buddy is proving sluggish to take the bull by the horns, I decided I'd pull the bull's tail.

I determined that I wasn't going to a) be the gopher for lunch today b) be the ride home tonight or c) get out-odored. I deftly dodged an early attack when she called before 8:30 this morning to ask if she could ride into work with me. That threw me off guard, but only for a moment. I lied to her and told her I couldn't, because I wasn't going straight to work, that I had a few other places to go. Well, it wasn't really a lie, as I had two other places to go, but the stops were on the way. I'm not sure what I'm going to say exactly when she first figures out how to say: "I don't mind. I'll wait in the car." But for now it works. The generals are still coming up with a counter to that possible attack. Pretty much all her call did was piss me off. In two weeks she's gone from mooching a ride home and ordering me out for her food to demanding I bring her TO work as well as from it. She's vegetarian, by the way, because she's part of a pretentious religion--pretentious because it's white people posing as enlightened "others". So she only wants to eat from one place and is so fucking SPECIAL NEEDS that I'm about to lose my mind. Her politics also make her despise all fast food corporations. Which for some odd reason only wants me to order a Big Mac. Or a double Whopper.

Righteously pissed about getting a phone call on a Monday morning for a problem she's not supposed to have, I decided to preempt the lunch situation by bringing mine. So I stopped at Subway and ordered a cold cut combo. Give me more bologna on my trio of meats!! That'll show her. *Eyeroll.* Apparently her only plan was to catch me off guard as I was leaving the house and snooker me into giving her a lift to work, as she told me to tell Director/Buddy she'd be late because she would have to take the bus. What was your backup plan, exactly, if I'd already left the house? I used this knowledge of her lateness to my advantage, and having covered the transportation and food angle, proceeded to tackle the smell problem.

Enter Febreeze, bane of Hippy Stink!! I personally donated my home bottle of Febreeze and febreezed the entire trailer, from front office to back storage. Twice. I dared her to stink. For good measure, I'd sprayed myself down with Lancome's Hypnose. It would be the battle of the smells, and I had my loaded weapon (Febreeze bottle) within reach. She gave it her best shot. After two hours of her presence, I sprayed down my personal office (shared with Director/Buddy) with Febreeze. She works in the outer room. I saved the personal attack for last.

When I came through there an hour or so later, I made a very pronounced show of prancing around and sniffing the room. I stayed away from her corner, so as not to be too direct, but honey, I'll go there if I have to. I marched back into my office, about-faced back to the main room, took my position, aimed, and fired! No, I didn't squirt her. But I squirted everything else. And then marched proudly away. She was three shades of red when I started firing. Let's hope this gets the point across. For good measure, after she left for the day, I sprayed her station down. Take that. The score for now is Virgil: 1 Smelly Hippy: 0.

If I have to, I have camo pants and a military jacket. I will wear them and come in with two Febreeze bottles on either hip. Don't make me angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry.

-- Virgil