Time To Leave
I’m at work. It’s four-thirty in the afternoon. All is fairly peaceful in the office.
Blonde Colleague: Right. I’m off.
Me: What?
BC: [slinging bag over her shoulder] I’m away. That’s me.
Me: Bit early. What for?
BC: I’m a fat cunt.
I sigh inwardly. This is getting beyond a joke. It’s bad enough having to listen to her bang on about her latest diet all day every day and pointing-out that her ‘weight issues’ are entirely imaginary – the only ‘issue’ she’s had of late has been losing too much and not really looking like a proper woman anymore but you can’t say that because they never believe you – but having to leave work early? Christ.
Anyway, I reply in the only manner a sane man would when faced with a woman describing herself as above.
Me: Oh no you’re not.
BC: What?
Me: You’re not.
BC: I FUCKING AM AND THERE’S NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT.
Bit vehement.
Me: Look, you’re really not and you should just get over it.
BC: You can’t tell me what to do! This has been agreed and I’m going.
Me: Well there’s really no point. You should just accept things. You’re fine.
BC: WHAT?!
Me: You’re not a ‘fat cunt’.
BC: WHAT??!!
This is getting a bit weird actually. Normally when you tell a woman they’re not overweight they melt a little bit and make you some tea. This is not going according to the template. I resolve to give it one last go.
Me: I said you’re not a fat cunt.
BC: I know! And I’m off to Weight Watchers to make sure I stay that way. I’ll make up the time tomorrow.
Ah. Weight Watchers. That she often refers to as ‘Fat Club’.
Me: Oh. OH. Sorry. I thought you said “I’m a fat cunt”, not “I’m at Fat Club”.
BC: WHAT? YOU THINK I’M A FAT CUNT?!
Me: Well, no, of course-
BC: Wanker!
She storms out of the office. Every woman present glares at me.
Blonde Colleague: Right. I’m off.
Me: What?
BC: [slinging bag over her shoulder] I’m away. That’s me.
Me: Bit early. What for?
BC: I’m a fat cunt.
I sigh inwardly. This is getting beyond a joke. It’s bad enough having to listen to her bang on about her latest diet all day every day and pointing-out that her ‘weight issues’ are entirely imaginary – the only ‘issue’ she’s had of late has been losing too much and not really looking like a proper woman anymore but you can’t say that because they never believe you – but having to leave work early? Christ.
Anyway, I reply in the only manner a sane man would when faced with a woman describing herself as above.
Me: Oh no you’re not.
BC: What?
Me: You’re not.
BC: I FUCKING AM AND THERE’S NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT.
Bit vehement.
Me: Look, you’re really not and you should just get over it.
BC: You can’t tell me what to do! This has been agreed and I’m going.
Me: Well there’s really no point. You should just accept things. You’re fine.
BC: WHAT?!
Me: You’re not a ‘fat cunt’.
BC: WHAT??!!
This is getting a bit weird actually. Normally when you tell a woman they’re not overweight they melt a little bit and make you some tea. This is not going according to the template. I resolve to give it one last go.
Me: I said you’re not a fat cunt.
BC: I know! And I’m off to Weight Watchers to make sure I stay that way. I’ll make up the time tomorrow.
Ah. Weight Watchers. That she often refers to as ‘Fat Club’.
Me: Oh. OH. Sorry. I thought you said “I’m a fat cunt”, not “I’m at Fat Club”.
BC: WHAT? YOU THINK I’M A FAT CUNT?!
Me: Well, no, of course-
BC: Wanker!
She storms out of the office. Every woman present glares at me.
posted by Tired Dad at
10:10 pm
17 Comments:
Janeway - I was tinkering, sorry about losing your comment. Nothing personal.
sheesh. no wonder the women in the office glared.
heheheh she may not be a fat cunt, but she sounds like a dumb cunt!
Hehehehehe
Sometimes don't you wish you could just have the world open up and swallow you!
Really, that was lose/lose from the beginning. As soon as you heard 'fat'...
Anything else I can help you with?
We're off that way.
I'm sure you are impervious to hard stares, but that really was very, very funny
janeway: What?
punx: On this occasion it was me being stupid.
ss: Near constantly. See my next post regarding never really leaving the house.
Em: In my defence I'm usually quite good at this sort of thing. Although I should have accepted your advice that day.
Ellie: Oh I know.
C: Thank you very much. And you're right about the stares, but I could live without HAVING to ignore them.
Pretend it never happened, she's probably so crazed with hunger (or by an enormous sugar rush) by now, she won't know what's real any more.
J: I expect you're right - that and the mood swings. Christ.
I am gay!
No, no, no, no! How many times do you have to be told that you should never, ever reply to a woman when you hear her use the F word. You just nod and make an indeterminate noise, like a grunt. It doesn't matter what you say, you'll end up in the doghouse.
Or just say, you are not fat, leaving her to think that she is a cunt.
Tessa: Hello and welcome. You're quite right but I still cling to the foolish belief that there is an articulate way out that will also reflect well on me. *SIGH*
Debs: I hadn't thought of that.
I nearly punched out a chap in a big department store in Glasgow for taking the piss when trying to sell me some skin cream.
I thought he said ' so are you a singer or a model'. Believe me, there's nothing about me that would make you assume either of those careers are an option.
I was just about to tell him to piss off and not be so patronising when I realised he was asking me, in heavily accented English, whether I was SINGLE or a MOTHER.
I felt such a fool I bought his face cream ;-)
Ali x
Surely the latter was worse than the former?
Treat em mean and keep em keen eh?...;-)
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home