I Just Wanted To Say...

What is your problem?

Location: Georgia, United States

I am me. More than I was, less than I will be. This is difficult. Facts-female, southern, mother and grandmother. Abstract-a Christian, a loner, intelligent, somewhat arrogant, impatient with stupidity, an unusual sense of humor.


Hold the Elevator

There are bitches and then there are bitches.

A friend of mine was telling me about a t-shirt she had. It said:
I am not a bitch.
I am The Bitch.
That's Ms. Bitch to you.
I wish I had that shirt. I would even wear it. But the truth of the matter is that a real bitch wouldn't need a shirt like that to let everyone know she was one. With a real bitch, there's something self-evident.

I personally don't have the energy or the inclination to be a full-time bitch. It takes some serious provocation to get me into bitch mode. Pretty much every woman I have ever known could be a bitch on occasion. Some less frequently than others. And of course, we all have those fluctuating hormones to deal with. But there are women who seem to make a life-style of being a bitch.

Whether it is inborn or the result of years of study and practice, these women are the epitome of bitch. Like a Pavlovian experiment, after one or two encounters with them, you become conditioned to expect it from them, to the point where if they speak politely or kindly, it is a major shock to the system and you wonder what's up with them.

For my part, I don't often let them bother me. Sometimes they are amusing, sometimes mildly annoying, sometimes disgusting, but they rarely provoke me to retaliation.

Of course, there are exceptions. One in particular comes to mind.

There is an employee elevator in the courthouse that is really a service elevator, so it is also a very slow elevator. Most employees try to be courteous and hold the door if they hear someone else coming down the hall. I am one of them.

One morning, CB(complete bitch) and I got on the elevator at the same time. The doors had begun to close when I heard someone coming quickly down the hall. I put my hand out and stopped the door. CB snarled at me, "What did you do that for? They could have waited. I'm in a hurry." The person got on, said thank you and I was spared from answering her. A few days later, CB and I were on the elevator alone again and I heard someone else coming, so I held the door. CB was thoroughly pissed off at me. " What is your problem? You know I don't like to be held up, but you just keep on doing it and I don't appreciate it." I outwardly ignored her, but I was tired of her bitch attitude.

About two weeks later, I got on the elevator and there she was. I turned around to face the door and just as it was about to close, I stuck my arm out and caused the door to open again. We waited, but there was no one coming. I turned, gave her a thin little smile and said, "Sorry, it looks like I've held you up again. Guess I must be hearing things. I hope it doesn't become a habit."

And since she was a bitch, she understood me perfectly.


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