Now, why you gotta go and make me be a beeotch?

Why do some people have to see how far they can push you?

I walk around being a nice person. I like to get along with people. I like to be nice and have people be nice to me. I like to ask for things, rather than demand them. I like to be someone you can come to if something isn't going the way it should and you can explain it to me, knowing I'm not going to bite your head off. I'm more interested in finding a solution than arguing about what's wrong. I like to work it out if there's a problem, with unraised voices and a reasonable attitude. If I'm wrong, I apologize. I like for everyone to walk away with no hard feelings, and I like to just get things done, right and on time. I like to be pleasant to work with, and I find that the less drama involved, the more efficient things are.

That's what I like.

But make no mistake. I can be a bitch with the best of them if that's how you want it. I can create new levels of tension you didn't know existed with tangible waves of hate streaming from my pores every time you're in the room...if that's how you want it. It's all up to you. And how you want it. One of my co-workers thought, just for a minute yesterday, that that's how he might want it.

He's changed his mind. That's a smart move. For everyone.

Some people just have to see if they can bully you. They just HAVE to know if you're someone they can run over. Doesn't matter how nice you are. It's not about you. It's about them. And if you let them...if the first time they try it, you don't take a f-ing lead pipe and slam it right up into their engine as they try to run you over...you'll fight it the rest of the time you're around that person. Once they know they can do it, they'll do it. Just because they can. Because some people just aren't very nice at their core.

In my case, I learned early on that this person was like that. I heard the stories. I saw the tendency. So, I prepared myself, knowing my time would come. I was as nice as I could be, right up to the moment when he pushed too far. And then I stood my ground and slammed my lead pipe up into his engine. It was unpleasant. It was unpleasant that he took things there, and it was unplesant to have to get all Alexis Carrington on his ass, to have to tap into my inner Leona Helmsley. I don't like to be angry or to have to slam my stiletto into someone's instep. But it was his choice.

I'm glad he's reconsidered his approach with me. It'll be so much nicer if we can go back to being pleasant, and amenable, and accommodating. I'd like to think we have a permanent understanding between us, but I'm going to guess he'll try it again at some point. I could be wrong. But I'll keep my pipe handy just in case.