O Happy Day!

I feel all happy and warm and fuzzy inside, blogworld.

And I'm feeling this way because the Desperate Housewives have been caught red-handed. Or bloody-knived. Or whatever term you use to indicate the end of absolute, utter machiavellianism.

Confused?
Let me explain.

Me: One of the quiet ones. Come to work. Do it. Inform all concerned. Leave.
Key characteristic: Dependable, unobtrusive.

Boss: Sweetheart (in the absolute, complete nice-guy sense). Dream (as opposed to dreamy, although some women do find him that as well) boss - in the sense that, he's got the very rare characteristic of making people *want* to work with/for him*
Key Characteristic: Very intelligent, very perceptive and a great buddy.

Desperate Housewives: The official team-bitches. Average (and I don't think that's bad) workers, above-averagely-intelligent women, both of them.
Key Characteristic: The knives they carry around, sharpened and ready for stabbing, into the first unsuspecting back.

What had been happening blogworld, is that these two, for no known reason, had been using guerilla tactics against yours truly. Nothing very obvious, but things like going up to the boss and telling him things like, 'Don't you think this would be a better way to manage project a?' or, 'project b needs to cover so-and-so aspects, don't you think?', specifically when I wasn't around (a and b, being my projects).

Then there were the standard kitty-party-aunty techniques - the whispering and giggling every time I walked by, or spoke on the phone or even came back to my desk for the love of god (and what on earth is so frantic-whisper-worthy about that??)! Oh and then there was the incessant gossiping on sametime (the intra-office IM. This is significant; it'll make another appearance further into the story).

Now the DHs are widely known as prize bitches - it has been said that if they had MPD? They'd be bitching about their alter-egos. They're that bad.

I had spoken to boss about this and he, in his characteristically sage manner, told me to not give a fuck. He told me that there would always be some people who'd dislike you, even if it's for no other reason than that other people like you. Which was some consolation but not enough blogworld, because, well...I'm not used to being actively disliked. Let alone, disliked enough to be schemed against**.

And then this happened.

After a meeting with the DHs, boss walks back to his desk only find this message on his IM, "Isn't he dum?! i mn he dsn't knw wht he's tlking abt!", and it's from one them.

Boss decides to play along, types back: "Ya I knw..."
DH1: "Ya! Dnt knw hw he got ts job."
Boss: "Srsly"
DH1: *stony silence* (because she notices that DH2, whom she is supposed to be having this conversation with, hasn't been typing)

At this point, DH1 turns saucer-wide eyes to DH2, who's completely oblivious to everything because she had no idea that she was being bitched-to.

DH1 realises the horror of the situation, just as boss bursts into loud guffaws and summons both of them to his cabin.

He shows them the typed conversation and then sits back, and with unnerving patience, listens to their fumbling, clumsy explanations and sorry excuses. And then gives them three kinds of hell. And tells them that if they're so unhappy with how things are done around here, well then there's the door.


Somedays, I absolutely *love* my job.


* Like those few professors in college, whose classes you'd *always* attend because they just made everything so damned interesting.

** I know that sounds really dumb, but see, like I said, I'm unobtrusive. And quiet. And I mind my own business. So...well...get my point? I think it takes a certain amount of *effort* to dislike someone whose actions don't affect your life at all. And that someone would so go out of their way...well, that makes me a little queasy.