Passive Aggressive Behavior

passive aggressive behavior 1

At the beginning of this month, I got a new job. It was a great opportunity, because not only was it on campus, but I also worked for these two middle-aged guys who are low key and only require me to look nice. I work four hours a day, for days a week scanning files full of documents. That is literally all I do.

So by yesterday I had gotten into a really great routine which allowed me to stay entertained while these huge files scanned. There was this small desk next to the scanner that I would roll a chair up to. I would set my drink in one corner, my stapler and staple remover in the middle, and my phone in the other corner. I would grab a file folder, take it to the desk, turn on Netflix (with headphones of course!), and begin removing the staples, scanning the documents, and replacing the staples. When the files was done, I would pause my show, get up, replace that file, and grab a new one. It really made the time fly!

Well there are these middle-aged women who work in the offices behind the scanner who gave off a bitch vibe, but today they confirmed it. So one of these women had her Keurig on this table and once every shift, she would ask me to if she could butt in, so she could make coffee. It was no problem, I would always smile and move. I wasn’t hurting anyone and I got my job done. Apparently speaking to me was such an inconvenience that when I came in today the table was gone.

It really frustrated me, because I felt they didn’t like me since the day I started. None of them introduced themselves to me and anytime I walked up, they would look at me weird or just ignore my presence. Also, this is supposed to be a professional environment, so if something about me or my actions bothers them, they should have talked to me directly.

Luckily, two can play the passive aggressive game. My job (which is super simple) had just gotten a lot harder without that table, so that was only fueling my fire. So, every time I would have to go scan my files, I would tap the buttons as loudly as I could. After about four or so files, the women came out of their dens.

Queen Bitch walks up to me and introduces herself and asks who I am. I in turn give my name and she proceeds to ask if the table would help me do my work. I said yes so they both brought it back out of the storage closet next to the scanner. They claimed they were just cleaning up Queen Bitch then introduced Second-In-Command Bitch to me. I thanked them for giving back the desk.

Now they have gone back to ignoring me unless Second-In-Command Bitch needs her coffee. Grow Up!

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