I remember reading somewhere about the “resting bitch face” many years ago, and I was sort of horrified by the idea. Is this a real phenom, I wondered? Or is it a judgment to characterize a woman’s dissatisfaction or unhappiness showing?
Today, I had very active bitch face. And I hate it. Because it’s not me, at least most of the time it’s not me. Work was absolute HELL and shit got real for my rabble-rousing millennial section of the firm. There is a big, huge … well, ALL of me that wants to track down stupid, irresponsible parents who raised very intelligent, entitled, spoiled brat children and allowed them to grow up and be unleashed on the world without warning labels. Once I track those parents down, I want to slap them – all of them! – silly for dumping these awful people into my workplace and force me and other reasonable people to explain that they (spoiled brat offspring) are not the center of the universe. And no, I am not sorry to have been a party to explaining it to them, for trying to crush their stone hearts, for putting a tiny little dent in their enormous egos. I am only sorry that I am the one who had to spell it out for you silly, silly children who believe you are an absolute gift to the rest of us mere mortals.
Never in my entire career have I felt such and intense rush of relief and exuberance to be showing people the professional door. I am not a mean person. I fret about people not having jobs or the ability to support themselves. But honestly, some people just need to grow the fuck up before entering the workforce.
Two of the professional staff were involuntarily separated from our firm today. My now former receptionist did come in this morning, for all of the 10 minutes it took her to clean out her desk, leave her keys, and to write me a note to please mail her final paycheck. All before I came in, of course, and without a word to anyone actually in the office (there are several staffers who get to the office at 6 a.m. most day).
It was a very bad day in my little world. But tomorrow, tomorrow will be better, I’m sure. Today was like cutting out a cancerous growth before it had time to spread its malignancy; tomorrow, I have already decided, will be an exceptionally good day.