Wild, Wild West

Office Space Update: I've decided to...experiment this week. I'm not a passive-aggressive person by nature. Typically, I'm just flat-out aggressive. I'm not very fond of being passive-aggressive and I hate it when people act that way with me. If there's a problem, tell me, or even yell at me inapprorpriately. I can handle that. We can either talk rationally or have an argument. Either way, we express our feelings, get the problem out in the open, and most of the time, resolve the problem. Passive-aggression (I think I made up a word. Get over it.) usually just leads to a build-up of ever-pissier feelings until there's a complete breakdown of communication or an all-out brawl.

However, on Wednesdays, Cocky Cowboy comes to town. And so I've got to be prepared for our little showdown. In the only language he seems to understand: truly passive-aggressive and borderline immature gestures. I stuck my To-Do list to the computer monitor instead of the desk, left my notepad and some (non-sensitive) forms splayed across the surface. I also left the sweater I keep at the office to combat the arctic blast coming from our A/C draped over my chair. And, most annoying of all, instead of logging off my computer, I left it locked onto my user name. Which means that he'd have to know my network password to even use the workstation to type an email (he doesn't).

This is the part where I blow the smoke from my gun.