This is the 2nd part in a series. The first post was here.
BUSINESS AT THE WINDOW
Just to underscore what a primadonna this client is, she once had me wait 30 minutes at Starbucks 6750 (of course she was late), only to call me on my cellphone to ask if i could come out to her car to hand the cd i recorded over to her. I was too shocked to disagree, i came out to her car, feeling like a driver/messenger approaching his amo. And we conducted business thru the passenger window of the car she was driving — much like a prostitute to a client. I came away from that experience feeling sullied and grimy.
To my credit, i still had a vengeance tactic i used. She asked for a revision of that minus one a day after and i texted: “i m 2 bz 2 go2 mkti-if u cn send sum1 to pik it up frm my hse in marikina,it cn b ready in an hour. i cn txt my address.” Of course it was a lie. I didn’t really intend to do it, and knew she would balk at the distance. True enough, there was no reply.
What? You think i’d lie on my back while some primadonna kicks me in the proverbial crotch? Hah.
Little does she know that i can be a much worse primadonna than she can ever hope to be. After all, you’re reading the blog of someone who once threw a crazy-assed shouting tantrum in a meeting attended by the president and major heads of the company i was working for– and i wasn’t even middle management. So if she wants to be like that, i’ve had several more years of practice going up against authority figures, starting from the time i wreaked havoc on the trashcan in front of a stunned English teacher back in 2nd year high school, over a measly 10 point quiz which i felt had an unfair trick question in it.
For the most part, i am now a much happier, mellower guy who can stomach a lot more crap than i used to in those wild days of shouting matches with immediate superiors, and testosterone-fueled workplace tantrums. It’s just that even a patient man can be abused one too many times and i have reached my breaking point.
WHAT WOULD J.C. DO?
Of course the more Christian thing to do is to shrug it off, accept that this is nothing more than my pride being hurt, and let it go. (Or as i like to intone subvocally, “let it go; let it be.”) Maybe mention in the future that it would be much more civilized to transact business at a table rather than at a car window, and leave it at that.
So why does that seem so much harder to do than to go to war with cannons blazing, and my bitch factor set to 99? Sigh. The headaches of the mature.