Sunday Is Still For Vampire But I’ve A Book To Read


 

The first cardinal rule in Philosophy is never assume. Isn’t it amazing in a very sad way that’s what most people do from just a glance and what piss-poor attitudes they have when it turns up they’re dead wrong? What makes it worse is everyone else’s attitude toward the assumptor / assumptorette when it becomes apparent there was 100% no truth anywhere. The vanity scale goes through the roof but there’s no one else to blame, after all; you’re the bonehead who believed without knowing a damn thing, without instinct or thought process. Is there a lecture in this? Nah, but Petra’s mind was still rattled from the last staff meeting. “Does she honestly think we’ll all believe she’s that kind of intuitive, like a mystic or something and we’ll fear our thoughts because she’ll know them before we even think them? She’s in our minds is she? If it’s a joke it’s a bad one.” The director had opened the meeting with a shocking revelation in her menopausal mind state to startle everyone into unquestionable obedience and servitude through fear. She knew everyone’s thoughts. She knew what everyone was thinking without speaking. Intangible objective knowing was simply her state of being, her job. The other side of that bad joke was Emma, the lead on the floor who got caught taking 30-minute 10-minute breaks, using her laptop to write a book instead of doing her job, and utilizing the office equipment to print everything off. She had actually gone on a tirade blaming Petra for her actions although at first it seemed like generalizations of bad excuses. It turned out it was her fault because she was efficient on the floor. She got so much work done so well that it burdened Emma and left her no other choices. There was just nothing left to do. The kicker was the director allowed it to be dumped in Petra’s lap. She hadn’t even realized it until the director’d asked, “Does anyone have anything to say?” Petra had been listening and thinking how glad she was this catty, petty complaining had nothing to do with her to get sucker-punched with a baseball bat that the meeting wasn’t an emergency staff meeting but her personal lynching trial. The director was looking right at her as Emma ranted on about how she wasn’t going to apologize to her for her abusive language and berating in front of the staff and students. “You aren’t paying attention”, the director had said. “I am… I’m listening.” “Do you have anything to say?” Petra was briefly stumped. “Well, I had no idea this was going to turn out to be a meeting about me.” Her voice cracked a little. The director and Emma thought for sure they had her. What they didn’t understand was it wasn’t an indication they were breaking Petra down, she was pissed, mortified at the utter absence of professionalism with the open-door policy permitted that if there was a complaint about another co-worker to come to the director’s office and tell her. Instead of diffusing the director would go to the person complained about and level accusations. It was as bad as allowing catfights as opposed to cockfights. The facility was run by women. There would be none of those although some of them thought they had spiritually acquired the specific appendage. “What’s next, inviting people in off the streets to place bets?”

 

One thing Petra knew and had been observing since she was a kid, “You learn a lot about people when they think you’re weak or stupid.” Didn’t most of them love to think she was stupid or they each were lord over her? Oh yes, they sure did. “Let them have go. Hopefully I’ll survive it.” She knew, well suspected already but would find out exactly what was running this place. If she played it right, it might just get its long time coming spring-cleaning.

 

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