Purple People Eater

So, the boss' birthday is tomorrow. Of course, it's "not a big deal" and she'd be "so embarrassed" for anyone to make a big deal about it. Yet, she told a client/colleague via email, who then brought a gift. That's what you feel obligated to do when someone tells you it's your birthday. It's the way women shmooze. You know, "I'll remember your birthday if you remember mine." And, every woman knows that -- so, if she didn't want someone to bring her a gift, she wouldn't have mentioned it to anyone. Instead, she made sure I and at least 5 other employees knew (and, I work at a small business). Never mind that her husband is the boss, knows it's her birthday and, if he has any brains (which is often in question), will do something for her before the day is out. Of course, she'll act surprised while we, like a bunch of trained monkeys, sing happy birthday or at least say "happy birthday" with plastic (thank god it's friday, can't wait for a drink) smiles.

Now -- if I made this big of a deal, but pretended like I wasn't, about my birthday -- she would consider it ridiculous. If I sent an email to a client that it was my birthday and then acted surprised when they brought me a gift, she would think I was being completely juevenile. But, I guess only people who where purple suits get to act juevenile. Yes -- a god-awful bright purple suit, with purple fur trim and purple stockings and shoes that she paraded into work wearing this morning. And, if that wasn't enough, a sparkly silver shirt. It's an assault on all fashion-dom!
Then, she acts like a complete diva in our meeting -- it's of course my job to make her copies and run all over the building taking messages to people. I hate that -- because I'm not her personal f*$%&# assistant, but she behaves that way when she wants to look exceedingly important. Well, here's news for ya', you don't look important in a tacky purple birthday suit with tacky purple trim. Never. It's against all the rules of "important."

I understand that, because she is married to the boss, she is also my boss. I may not respect that, but I understand it. And, I can respect her management style on a normal day (not always her wardrobe, but her management style, yes). Then, why the show? It's the way she asks and directs me in these meetings that irritates the shit out of me. Like it's my job in life to cater to her every whim -- take her notes and make her copies and get her something to drink and open and shut her car door when she makes appearances in her stupid purple monkey suit. I know what she's doing. She's not going to get off her lazy ass and do it -- she's too important. And, the looks -- when someone mentions a task too menial for her Divaship -- the looks she throws my direction and the pointing with those long orange claws she calls nails. It's condescending. Like I should respond with "yes, master" and hobble away furtively. She's a diva. And, although I can accept some diva qualities -- at other people's expense? Not today. Not from a person wearing the most disgusting suit I've ever seen.

So, happy #%*#$& birthday. How old are you . . . like . . . 83? It's not like you don't have everything in the world anyway -- you're old and rich. What's a gal supposed to get you for a birthday gift? I know -- how about a new suit! You know what? Never mind, you look great in that one. I think you should wear it every day.