Woe is me

It has become very clear to me that the old women at work detest me. I've been nothing but friendly and helpful towards them but I get glares and rudeness in return. Younger women are friendly. Men are friendly. Even after a year and a half, I think this old pack of wolves still feels like I have to earn their respect. They've been around longer (forget that I have a better job) and obviously don't like me invading their space. I'm sick of being the omega. From now on, I'm shoving my way past the old bags in line at the printer. I'm no longer going to politely suppress my urges to gag when I pass by a restroom stall that one of them has just exited. I'm going to stare rudely and then roll my eyes at their "business casual" white jeans and (untucked!) t-shirts. I'm going to tell them how ugly their grandchildren really are. I'm going to unplug their keyboards when they leave for the evening. I'm going to shred their printouts...just so they have to print them again! I'm going to take a stand!

Or, more likely than not, I'm just going to keep smiling sweetly and wishing them each a good morning. I hate being passive-aggressive.

On a brighter note, I learned today that a man is much more likely to have an abnormally small penis if his mom wears large quantities of makeup while pregnant with him. I guess we now know why Gary attempted to kill his mother.