It is a fair comment to level at me that I avoid personal confrontation where possible. Where t'midgets are concerned, I'm like a rabid dog that needs to be shot so you have a fighting chance, but for myself I will stay silent.
I don't like not to be liked; I seek to please people I couldn't give a flying fuck about, which is infinitely more irritating for me than the people I direct my pleasantness at.
The upside of not being able to confront people directly for any perceived "sin" they make against me has been, of necessity, developing quite a talent for passive aggression.
Whether it be making a cutting comment on my Facebook status that the person concerned will never read, pointlessly alluding to it in a Twitter feed that can't be read by the person it concerns as they don't have an account, sarcastically contributing a back handed compliment, being deliberately rude under the light cover of humour; where these are concerned, I have got it going *on*.
As of late, when Steed affronts my sensibilities, I don't cut his sandwiches. I make them, bag them, but don't cut them, with the idea being that the bastard will struggle eating his lunch and look ridiculous in front of his colleagues as he struggles to talk to them whilst desperately hoping his corned beef doesn't make a dash for his desk (hopefully being forced to have a conversation with a high ranking client with the remnants of sweetcorn relish down the front of his shirt).
Yeah; that'll show him, eh?
*Just surrenders to concept that she may not be very good at revenge.*
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