I have an enemy. A hater, if you will.
I’ve always wondered about people who have ‘haters’. I really thought I was too bland for people to hate, too nice for people to care either way. It turns out in at least one case, I’m wrong. Out there in the universe is someone who feels so strongly about me they are willing to lie to get me out of their general sphere.
The hater (TH) loathes me. TH truly believes that every time I speak, it’s to mock them. (Note: I don’t have to be speaking to them or around them, I just have to speak.) This person believes that I steal stationery, steal coffee, abuse my printing and phone privileges (It’s an office. Printing and use of the telephone are sort of essential), and sleep with all the penis-owning department members. If I were capable of all that I had been accused of I’m fairly certain I’d have a lot more money right now). Some of the less mundane accusations include my making ‘heavy-breather’ phone-calls and my writing a novel about her (if a blog post counts then sure, guilty).
Initially, this was all very upsetting and frightening. I knew she didn’t like me, I’m not socially blank, I can feel the hostility. Then she started to look right through me. I could dance naked, on my head, on her desk and she wouldn’t acknowledge it (until she went and called me a slut in the HOD’s office – again). It’s unsettling to be around someone who cares so much about what you do and firmly believes that your every move is a form of harassment. She counts my trips to the loo, for goodness’ sake!
Now, it’s pretty much guaranteed to get a giggle out of me. How can I do anything but laugh? Anyone associated with me has been treated with some hostility too – not equal, but palpable. I’m in the fortunate position of being supported 100% by management, while someone whose paranoid tendencies are shining through is constantly putting herself in HRs offices and in counselling.
Still – I only have 8 more months and now I can’t wait until it’s over so I can go back to being bland and boring instead of some sort of Femme Fatale.
Until then I’m dressing up and keeping a big smile on my face – for the first time I can acually, legitimately say HATERS TO THE LEFT! Or at least, you know get the hell out of my way so I can use the goddamned printer, you absolute nut job.