Everyone at work has collectively decided I am as threatening as a stuffed cat. Actually, that's a lie. They think the right type of stuffed cat would be more threatening than I am. In short, I've gained a reputation in the last year. I'm the girl who walks fast, types fast, talks fast, turns around paperwork fast, and is supernally nice. Please stop laughing. It's true. At this place, I've actually gained a reputation for being kind. While I do view this assessment of me as a sort of collective office amnesia, I've realized why they think as they do.
I keep my cynicism behind closed doors. If I have catty remarks to make, I make them to my roommate. She has never met anyone I work with. If I think of funny yet hurtful things to say, I chuckle to myself and continue on with my day. If people do things that are dumb and funny, I wait to laugh at them until they've gone.
In short, I'm not any nicer than I was a year ago. I just hide my meanness better. Avoidance, I have learned, is one of my best methods for keeping the peace.
Some would argue avoiding people is a pansy's way of resolving conflict. In fact, it's dodging conflict. To some, it's an acknowledgement avoiders can't handle conflict.
My philosophy is this: I will face any conflict, head-on, that I know I can handle. When I'm in a conflict-appropriate situation. Work is not a place to have open conflicts. And when I actually fight somebody, trust me--that conflict is wide open. We're talking hole caused by a meteor open.
I try to avoid death and destruction of all kinds at work. That is why I'm hiding myself from the visiting manager. Because if he patronizes me, I'll explode.
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