Tales from the Cupcake Hood, and Other Employment Atrocities

Apparently I'm not the only one who recognizes the type of female coworker I call the Cupcake. Cupcake just works, because I mutter something like, "Get over it, Cupcake," Get a grip, Cupcake," Get over yourself, Cupcake," "Get a clue, Cupcake," after encounters with this type.

I must say that after yesterday's little scene, the Cupcakes were fine today. So perhaps they dug through the undies drawer and found those big girl panties, and all will be well. I really hope it all works out smoothly, because I really like the new VP and we could have a lot of fun if we don't have to deal with Drama.

Speaking of Drama, the job I fled last year has degraded to the bottom of the septic tank. My former Boss and my sort-of replacement have been traded to a different office, one that is run kind of like the Playboy Mansion, if the Playboy Mansion was an ugly gray cube farm where they count the paperclips, watch everybody's every move, have never heard of a Bates stamp, the manager of the shop is Lumbergh and the staff is known for their perky asses but can't prepare a subpoena without an outside service to do it for them. I am so very, very glad to be gone. My replacement emailed me and I sent out an APB to my contacts, and instantly got a nibble at our outside counsel's firm. They want her resume and want to talk to her. I hope it works out, that would be too sweet.

I haven't talked to the Boss since this little drama played out, but you know, I don't know what to say to him that I didn't scream in his face for two years. If he's willing to accept this level of degradation, I am out of words.

But here's what he told my replacement when she ranted at him about getting the hell out of that office, and it's the exact same thing he told me when I ranted at him about how sucky and dysfunctional it was: "I have a family to support."

I cannot tell you how much this pisses me off. It pisses me off on a cellular level, to the point where I am not sure I can remain friends in the same way with this friend of nigh onto 15 years. We've stuck together through a lot of shit, but that is just so absymally pathetic and clueless and INSULTING in every way, and now that I see it is his stock answer when he tries to explain his Issues to a Woman, I just can't stand it.

I'm involuntarily single, paying off Living with Cancer in the Family Debt with two mortgages on my luxurious 1600 square foot house, I live basically paycheck to paycheck, I'm my sole support. He has a wife with a decent job, my husband died leaving me in debt, my friend hasn't been married. In that she is better off than I am, she isn't still bailing the rowboat after a family disaster.

He has a JD, we are just expected to act like we do, but he earns a JD-level salary and we don't.

He has savings, mine were almost entirely burned by 2 years of terminal cancer (my 401k was the sole survivor). We, as single women, have just as much responsibility as he has, minus the lawyer income and backup spousal income. My replacement and now friend is where I am, single, mortgage, over 40 and on her own. How dare he use that incredibly insulting, "It's different for me, I have a Family?" What the fuck does that mean? Does it mean that we, as single women, don't have to pay our bills too? We shouldn't want nice homes, cars, retirement savings and the occasional vacation, because those are Married People Things? When my husband died was I supposed to lower my expectations for my OWN life? What the fuck does it mean, "I have a family?" I am not suggesting that he quit his job in protest, but what the fuck does that have to do with not SERIOUSLY, earnestly looking at improving his place of employment? "I have a family," is not an answer. It's a lameass, chickenshit, wimpy little weenie excuse for not trying. And he should be very ashamed that the women around him, who have far less to go on than he does, have the balls he apparently doesn't have to get out of that crappy job.

I feel better. I composed the rant I will rant at him the next time we do happy hour. We were all supposed to go out this week, but now he's ducking out, because he doesn't want me and my friend screaming the above at him in stereo.

This is why I left a year ago. After like 13 years of working together like the perfect machine, closer than a lot of siblings, the job just sucked for both of us, we hated it, we vented, we ranted, but he was too inert to budge and I couldn't wait for him to figure out where he left his balls and get out of there. I went without him and I have no regrets about leaving - many questions about what I got myself into at the new place, but with the new VP I'm most encouraged that this wasn't a bad move. Today was crazy but I left feeling invigorated, thinking of solutions to problems instead of brain-dumping it all in the parking garage. It could be good.

Edited to add yesterday's horoscope, which I didn't get around to reading until this morning:

Tired of having a front-row seat at your friend's personal drama? Tell them that it's getting out of hand. True, they may not react by changing their ways, but you'll feel tons better at getting that off your chest.

I do feel better.

I want to buy yarn. This time because I feel good and I want to reward myself with Bright, Bright Colors. I'm trying to stop myself, but buying yarn is a drug. It's what we do to celebrate, to console ourselves, to plan for the future. I'm glad I do it instead of eating a pie, but considering how I restrain myself, I'm pissed that I'm not thinner. Damn this perimenopause thing!