Brou-ha-ha!

Isn’t it fun when things at work get blown out off proportion? Isn’t it even better when you get caught up in it, too? The best is when it’s your fault!
At work yesterday, I was having the most productive shift ever in Hell. I made a shit-ton of wampum for the store and I opened three credit cards! Yay! I helped create more debt and further the false image of beauty that this country worships! But here’s the thing that set it all off, people; I could’ve had four credits.

A coworker who is a very selfish man and as shallow as a dry riverbed was getting jealous of my success. See, he takes the job seriously; he’s into it. In the Navy, we’d call him a dig-it. You can figure out why, because my readers are the sharpest knives in the drawer!
Mr. Me is what we’ll call him. And he’s so into himself, he’d like that.

Just so you know what kind of guy this fuckhole is, I will share a little background. As you all know, Mary dumped me some time ago, and some of you know that it still stings every once in a while. Well, when it had just happened, I was fucking miserable; I wasn’t eating or sleeping, I was constipated. I was so fucked up that I couldn’t jerk off. Me! The guy whose Indian name translates to “He who masturbates while running.” I wouldn’t go so far as to say I had lost the will to live, but I had just lost what I felt was the best reason.
Mr. Me attends the same church that Mary and I attended. He started going because he made the mistake of having sex on Saturday night with a woman who attends our church, and not waking up in time to avoid going to the service. We all find God in our own way, I suppose.
Anyhoo, he decides that, after seeing all the other attractive ladies that go to that church, he will start attending regularly. How he sleeps at night I don’t know. He’s still going to this day, and he has been in attendance after Mary and I broke up.
So he knows that we’ve split, and he takes every opportunity to talk about Mary; he sat by her at church, and how he sees her at the Young Adults meetings, and that he talks to her, or tries to, but she always seems distracted or going to work. He is talking to me about my ex right after we’ve broken up. And it is sounding like he is asking me if it’s okay for him to ask her out.
He doesn’t come right out and say it, but it’s the impression.

You hopefully have an idea of how fucking self-absorbed this prick is by now.

So, yesterday, he sees my success and he steals my credit. He sees me with the customer, he sees me
walk the guy into a dressing room. He hears me talking to the guy about his shirt not fitting, and me saying that I will get him one that will fit. While I am serving the needs of my customer (I feel like such a fucking whore when I say that; I need a very scrubby shower), he offers him credit.
It’s so amazingly hypocritical of him to do that. Two days prior, he accused GringO (my beloved albino monkey-boy) of stealing his credit, and we have another coworker who does this to us all the time, and Mr. Me is the first and last one to complain about it. Yet he does it to me, the guy who helps him with his sales and doesn’t receive acknowledgement for it; the guy who takes his greeting assignments so he can flirt unsuccessfully with customers; I’m the guy who has said in the past, “Oh, he’s not that bad!”

Yes he is. He’s a shit-for-brains Judas. Fuck him for his lack of consideration.

The thing is, everybody on the floor knows he stole the credit from me. The manager E, my guardo camino N, my grandmas J and GG, the cocksucking Mohican Twan, everybody. Even the store director hears about it.
Apparently, I am loved in that store, because everybody is on my side. My boss tells me that there isn’t anything official to do about it, but she will talk to him about how wrong it was.
The whole store in brouhaha mode, and it’s all my fault.
Like I said, it was the most productive day I’ve ever had there.