Yesterday, while finishing up my lunch break at work, my least favorite supervisor walked into our conference room, sat down, and proceeded to ruin the remainder of my Wednesday and, so far, all of my Thursday! The jerk was single-handedly able to do this by being rude and condescending, two things I really haven’t experienced from a coworker during my twelve year tenure on the job. I am happy to say I am not familiar with being treated poorly but it broke my heart nonetheless. I felt angry and sad, as well as embarrassed, although I had no reason to be. He made me feel very uncomfortable in my own skin and all I wanted to do was leave. And leave I did.
The short few minutes, that resulted in hours of anxiety and anger for me in the following days, were all the result of my supervisor telling an awful story, for the 3rd time, about how he ‘beat’ his mildly aggressive Rottweiler with a baseball bat when he was younger. He described in lurid detail how the adolescent dog, whom he had essentially ignored by gifting it to his son and leaving it to live outside during its formative years, growled at him when he went to feed him his dinner. Being the alpha male that he is and was, my violent superior grabbed his nearby bat and hit the dog a couple times – when he described this moment, he even yelped out to reenact how the dog screamed while being beaten.
As I heard this frightful story yet again, I stood with a straight face, refusing to laugh alongside him as my other two moronic coworkers did (which struck me as a desperate attempt to seek the storyteller’s approval). My supervisor noticed I wasn’t amused by his awful actions so he proceeded to tell me how beating a dog is necessary to training and how I would never be able to handle a canine of this caliber.
I didn’t know where to begin and I found myself, as I do in these scenarios, not saying exactly what I would like to say. While I told him I would have handled things differently (to put it lightly), I wanted to tell him how he is an asshole. I also wanted to tell him that he is a pathetic excuse of a man, I have zero respect for him, and I cannot wait for him to leave our place of work when he retires at the end of this month. Finally, I wanted to hit him with a baseball bat while I provided some dog training tips to him for the future.
The whole thing made me so mad – knowing the pup was treated inhumanely, watching people laugh about it as if it was funny, and his condescension and outlandish ability to actually flip the script on me, as if I was in the wrong. Things like this will bother me for days, as it already has. I struggle with being around people who make me upset, in any shape or form, because all I want to do is separate myself from stress, anger, sadness or worry. Life is too short and there are too many wonderful people to consume ourselves with (like Hugo ♥) – no one needs a negative, evil human being in their midst. I sure as hell don’t.
I believe the Statute of Limitations in California is up on this story, since it happened a couple decades ago. Plus, the victim has since passed away – makes me sad for him, just knowing he had to go through that, all alone in the world, with his trust in the very man that hurt him. It pains my heart that it happened and it hurts to watch him laugh in unison with others, as he reminisced about his brutal tale. He ruined the following days in my life, as I cried inside for the dog and for the way he made me feel. I know I shouldn’t feel badly but I do. Hopefully a little more time, some hugs from my own loving pooches, and his upcoming retirement will make it all better.