Ah yes, 1991. The year I was fifteen, and high school consisted of classes, interspersed with angsty crap about boys, whispering about other girls, and in-depth discussions about who was best friends with whom. Thank goodness those days are over.
Or are they?
I feel like when I go upstairs to teach, the Teachers Aids and their manager are staring daggers at my back, and aren't quite as genuinely friendly as one might expect, considering I'm a reasonably nice person and haven't had any run-ins with any of them. And it turns out I'm right.
They HATE me because I'm friends with a male teacher who used to date one of them. She's not over it, she is jealous of me being friends with him, and now all the rest of them are indulging in this little flashback to simpler times by acting like a bunch of hormone riddled sharp clawed harpy teenagers.
What can I say?
1 comment:
Ah fuckem. They are just the sort of people you would not have been friends with when you were 15. Arseholes are arseholes no matter what age they are or what position they hold.
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