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Author’s Note: For the most part, I am not offended by being called a “bitch.” I understand that in nine times out of ten scenarios it is a reflection of the person delivering the insult being deeply insecure about something, and has very little to do with the receipt of said bitch bomb.
By resident homeless man Peter, who said it more playfully than antagonistically when I gave him $4 instead of an actual fiver.
Peter routinely frequents the perimeter of my apartment selling newspapers, asking if someone would mind buying him a coffee if they’ve got a minute, and just doing his thing. He’s always polite and nice and has told me the same “peanut butter and jelly vs. jam” joke about 95 times. (I don’t take offense to it – he’s fine and laughs hysterically at himself every time.) The other night we ran into each other and it had been a particularly rough night on the paper front so I checked my wallet to see if I had any cash. I had a few spare ones from paying parking that I handed his way. When he saw it wasn’t a full five he joshed in my direction, “Rich bitch is holding out on me!” before genuinely saying thanks and making his way towards the closest 7-11.
To be fair, I was kind of holding out on him. There were a couple twenties in there. So if that makes me a bitch, Peter nailed it.
By my boyfriend when I kept reminding him that his taxes are due next week.
Of all of the idiosyncrasies that drive me up the goddamn wall about my significant other, his inclination to procrastinate is by FAR my least favorite.
Procrastinating when it doesn’t actually hurt anyone is one thing. Yeah, it’s stupid to not do your laundry and wait until you’re out of forks to do the dishes, but no one is going to actually suffer. But things like getting a new debit card when you’ve lost yours? Putting in for you PTO because you’re going on a vacation? Or doing your fucking taxes? Come on. Just bite the bullet and be bored for an hour.
What started as an oh-so-innocent convo regarding a vacation we’re about to take for one of my best friend’s birthdays, quickly spun out of control into an “omg why the hell haven’t you filed yet your taxes aren’t even that complicated” tense discussion. A discussion that turned us into the couple who’s trying to make it look like they aren’t fighting but totally are in public at a brewery. There was exaggerated whispering, overly enthusiastic “Oh we’re so good right now!!!” claims thrown towards our waitress. Just the whole nine yards.
And then he threw out, “God, you’re being such a bitch right now.”
I’m never going to be the girl who walks out on a date because I’m pissed. But I’d be lying if that moment didn’t leave me speechless. It stung. It had the intended effect. It rendered us awkwardly sipping the rest of our beers for the next 30 minutes and then I pretended to work late and fell asleep on the couch while he half-assedly apologized by buying brunch the next morning. Not our best, kids, not our best.
By my mother, when I mentioned the tax situation.
“Good lord (my mom’s Midwestern, she can’t help it.), Em. You had to go and be such a little bitch about it?”
When two out of three have an opinion, it’s time to take a good hard look at yourself. To be clear, I still think I’m right. When your taxes aren’t overly complicated and you have something coming up that it would be great to have some extra spending money for, you should just get them done. You shouldn’t drag it out and then whine about how you wish your refund was here already. BUT, it’s not my money. It’s not my life. And it’s not my choice. So nagging and picking about it? Yeah…it probably made me act a little bit bitchier than I should have.
By my drunk friend who I said, “I told you that you shouldn’t do shots,” to after she dropped her phone in the bar toilet.
She came out basically crying (setting spray and waterproof mascara really help out fyi) and holding her rose gold iPhone 6+ in wads of 1-ply.
“What am I gonna dooooooo?!” She wailed over the pumping base of some Top 40 song, holding her phone like a wounded soldier.
“Um…you’re going to have to get a new one? I dunno, this is why I told you that you shouldn’t do shots. You get obscenely clumsy when you’re wasted!”
“JESUS CHRIST, YOU’RE SUCH A BITCH!”
Now. In my friend’s defense she was A) blackout to the point where she fell asleep with her heels and fake eyelashes STILL on. And B) I was being kind of an ass. No need to kick a girl when her iPhone was already down. (This is why I shouldn’t do shots. Because I get negative. And mean. And bitchy.)
By my other (probably was still drunk at the time) friend who accidentally sent me a message ABOUT me, she meant to send to someone else.
Aka: one of the worst things than can possibly happen to anyone who is textually active in 2017.
It was a normal Saturday. I was sipping a cold brew in bed, scrolling through various satirical essays on my Macbook in a robe I ordered when I was doing some red wine Amazon-ing when a notification ran through my iMessages.
“Remy – Mark as Read/Read More”
And when I clicked to read more, low and behold there it was.
“Ugh. Em is being such a lazy bitch. She just Snapchatted her and her man’s feet in bed while she’s living her best life but she can’t fucking respond to confirm about tomorrow. Guess that means she’s out.”
I snapped my laptop closed with a little too much force and briefly startled the sleeping bf…who instantly went back to sleep because he can’t be bothered by accidental text bombs at 9 a.m. on a Saturday. (Don’t blame him.)
In my defense, I was GOING to respond. But I love McSweeney’s and was just going to finish reading about how to fully optimize my life (10/10 recommend btw) before saying that yes, I would be down for bloody mary’s and catching up tomorrow. Jesus, can’t a girl lean out once in a while?
By the cab driver who almost hit me on 4th on Saturday.
“Fuck you bitch! Get your blonde ass out of the road!”
Nahhhhh. This is reason number 43 why everyone takes Ubers.
By the co-worker who felt I was being patronizing when I pointed out that we addressed his question about twenty minutes prior to him asking.
A little back story. This guy has been with my company about 3 years longer than me, but I severely outrank him. In fact, in the meeting in which the bitch bomb was dropped, we were discussing an element of the job that I actually oversee. So in a way in that regard, I’m his superior.
He’s never been an “attention to details” kind of guy. Which is the nice way of saying he never has a fucking clue what’s going on and my current theory is that he’s injured in some way and for whatever reason, that’s why we still hang on to him without giving him any extra responsibility or seniority.
Anyway, the meeting was going along swimmingly and I was mentioning a (what I assumed was) well understood practice that the other 15 members of the team all nodded along with. This guy just looked at me blankly. But I didn’t really think anything of it…he kind of always looks like that. I ended the segment with, “So this is the portal you can utilize where I’ve created copy and paste answers and guidelines if you ever have to deal with some of these frequently asked questions from our clients.”
Twenty minutes later, whose hand goes up and asks, “So uh…what do I do when I get asked how to [insert possibly our most frequently asked question here]? I get asked that all the time. Is there maybe a guide or something we should follow to know how to handle that?”
I could’ve screamed. But instead I just calmly said, “Yep. That’s exactly what we just talked about twenty minutes ago. If you’re still confused, talk to me after because we need to move on.”
And under his breath, there it was.
“Wow…what a bitch.”
Here’s the thing. I know I have a case for HR against this little fucker. But honestly? I can’t decide if I care enough to really pursue it. It has to be frustrating to see someone 10 years younger than you advancing at a much more rapid rate (and at all in his case) and that makes him feel challenged. But because we’re not even remotely on the same playing field, all he has to “attack” on is the fact that I’m a woman. And that I made him feel stupid for asking a stupid question. So that makes me a “bitch” in his eyes.
But hey. I’m the bitch who got promoted, and he’s just sitting there sulking so. *shrug*
By the drunk guy at a party who I refused to talk to.
It was a Thursday Happy Hour at a rooftop bar near one of the bigger tech companies in my city. Most of the people who were there I didn’t know but worked for big name companies that I assure you, you likely use in some capacity at least every week. And people were there to drink.
I was nursing a beer and making small talk with my best friend (the reason I was there) and her co-workers when he stumbled our way. The classic “I work in sales making 170k a year at 25 and don’t know what to do with myself” kind of bro. Who had clearly been seeing if he could fight the gin bottle and still win.
And the convo went as follows.
Me: “Oh hi.”
Him: “Where do you work? You work where?”
Me: “Not here.”
Him: “Are you sure?”
Me: “Very much so.”
Him: “Whatreudrinkin?” (when it all becomes one word at 6:30 PM on a weeknight you know you’ve found a winner)
Me: “Just a beer but I’ve got a ways to go on it.”
Him: “We should do shots. I’ll get us shots.”
Me: “I’m fine, thanks.”
Him: “Woah. You seem like kinda a bitch for someone drinking for free.”
Me: “Well you seem a little old to be wearing sunglasses inside at 6 p.m. but here we are!”
And that friends, is why I got called a bitch this month. But hey. There’s something to be said for the times when you want to lean out, and when you just gotta lean in. And if leaning in to being a bitch means this is who I am, I’m feeling pretty okay about it.
Except for being extra to a drunk friend who was just really bummed about her iPhone. That was a low blow on my part. .
Image via YouTube