Am I Wrong?

I've said it before, I'll say it again... I truly believe sometimes that ignorance is bliss. And by ignorance I mean stupidity. And by bliss I mean you really piss me off.

Some days I hate the fact that my mind absorbs every little detail of every little thing... and every little nuance of people. Granted, on the positive side, this sitting back and seeing has helped me learn a lot about people in general, especially the ones I'm around often. The unfortunate part is that the people I'm around the most are the people I work with. It really is like a second family. It's very interesting how my job has changed me over the years. Yes, I will admit, that I'm warped in ways I've probably yet to discover. I don't feel that I chose to make a career out of dispatching. I feel that dispatching kind of chose me. I can't imagine doing anything else. Doing anything else scares the crap out of me. I believe that my job has turned me into a misanthropic hermit. My circle of friends and family are small, but I like it this way.

Like in any family, there's going to be someone, for whatever reason, on any given day, who irritates the fool out of you. It happens, we work through it, life goes on. But maybe you have an older brother... and maybe you only see this older brother once or twice a week. And maybe, just maybe, this older brother gets on your nerves more than any other older brother you have, or have ever had.

My older brothers are the best, by the way. I love them both, dearly, and I miss them every day. They were the coolest older brothers to have growing up as the baby sister. sniff...

Being a female (and I'm sure most of the females I know have experienced this at least once in their lifetime)when someone has already frayed a nerve or two, anything and everything they do is scrutinized... all the way down to how they tie their shoes. But my Mama raised me good, and most days the "it happens, we work through it" philosophy works like it should. I'm sure you've guessed by this point in the post, that there was an incident that went beyond my normal daily self control... especially seeing as how I'm blogging about it now.

The incident I'm about to describe would, under normal circumstances, be considered small and insignificant. The FIRST time it happened, I was able to shake my head and move on with my night, as I do almost every night I have to "work" with this individual. There have been past instances of conflict between us. Me, who gets along with everyone, lost all respect for this "man" a long time ago. So this is not me just bagging on someone because I was irritated last night. No, this is me, who has held her tongue so long and has kept her fingers from bashing him on the internet to the point that her head wants to es-plode. One of the commandments of blogging is, never bash your co-workers on the internet. Someone, somewhere, will read it and tattle. I'm okay with that, at this point. In fact, every week, I could write about him and be okay with that.

The big boss, whom I love and adore beyond words, gave this "man" a key to an office that controls the heating and cooling of the room that I sit in for at least 40 hours a week. It's a secured office, because it's the big boss's office. I've often questioned the reasoning behind this. But it's a supervisor thing, so I stay out of it. Not too long ago, I posted about my dispatch office and the unsecured doors because of the heat of all the computers. So last night I get to work and the temperature is as it should be. I'm Goldilocks and the air is juuuuuust right. About 0200 (2am), the "man" comes in and makes a point in asking me, "Are you hot?" My response is, "Nope. I'm very comfortable, thank you." At which point, he walks down the hall, opens the big boss's door and proceeds to crank down the air conditioner. To understand where I'm coming from here you need to know a few things. First of all, this is the second time he's come to me, making a special point in asking me if I was hot, me telling him no, and him immediately walking down the hall and cranking down the air. Second of all, he usually doesn't ask. He usually just goes in and cranks down the air. And he always waits till I'm there to do it. And lastly, I'm not talking about making it a couple of degrees cooler. I'm talking, "Eskimo Kill". I have to go to our break-room and stick my head in the freezer to warm up.

Now... I'm all about giving someone the benefit of the doubt. I know these guys are wearing polyester, a bullet proof vest, a 30 pound gun belt, and that it's a billion degrees outside. And what may turn my nose and fingertips blue, probably feels really good to them. But there is one significant thing I have yet to divulge. And this other thing is what makes me stop and go, HUH? And if this exact scenario had not happened, play by play, on a previous occasion, I probably would have just shook my head and gone on with my night, as I usually do.

The kicker to this whole thing... after he makes a point in asking my opinion of the air's condition, and after totally disregarding the fact that I said I'm fine and walking down the hall and cranking down the air anyway, he leaves. Yes, folks, he does. He doesn't stop to use the bathroom... he doesn't stop in his office to do paperwork... he cranks down the air, closes the door, walks past his office and turns out the light, and leaves the building. It takes approximately three and one half minutes before my fingers lose all feeling in them and frostbite ensues.

I've tried to rationalize it. And the only thing I can come up with, is on the two nights he's made it a point to ask me, he's feeling unusually mean and spiteful. But again, I'm all for giving someone the benefit of the doubt and if he was just coming in, cranking down the air and then walking out, fine. He did that for a while, in fact. But the simple action of him coming up to me, showing concern for my comfort, then, by what can only be interpreted as a complete disregard for me as a person (this conclusion does not just come from this incident alone. There have been several incidences of total disregard for me, and many others) and acts as if I didn't even speak... well... it makes this misanthropic hermit want to take a tazer and "light him UP!" Someone once described him as a Rat Bastard. The name has stuck (not to his face, of course) and on the nights he does stuff like this, I think it is too kind of a description.