Meanest Man I Have Ever Met

On my get acquainted interview when Mr. Rivers told me he wanted the other counselor, not me, and he had invited her to help him say this I suspected he was a hate-everybody-and-especially-you guy. Everything I said, did, thought of doing, sat on, or threw out, was wrong. Proof of my inability to do The kind of job his counselor would be doing, which was all secretarial which did not appeal to me. SIGH. I sob-cried all the way to school and all the way home, for almost six gloriously wonderful weeks. One of my best friends, Linda, an R.N. at that school told my identical twin sister, “I have never seen Caren’s eyes this sad.” My feelings were up and down, hide and seek. One minute I would be laugh dancing around the room, hugging a new teacher, boisterously merry, and totally shiek. Before you could think of the word applesauce, I would be sobbing uncontrollably because of five especially horrible weeks with his majesty. (Every email he sent me started with this phrase: I am so disappointed in you.) I called my ex-principal boss, who was immediately angry on my behalf. She said, “I’m management, so I am not telling you to document everything this idiot says and does. I’m not telling you to call the Union and send them the documentation; I am not telling you the importance of getting a lawyer. Understand?” I think I did. The Union President laughed when I mentioned Mr. Rivers by name. “We have a four drawer file folder full of documentation on this creature – grievances against him. “Why is he still here?” I asked. “He has A top official in his pocket,” she said, “And you do not want to know which pocket.” Well now, wasn’t this just GRAND? Mr. Rivers always and forever looked forward to his majesty’s little “Here we all are, let’s be team players, and help each other, and do our best” days to inform the staff of what his main commands are. I was surprised to learn I’d be carrying a walkie-talkie, and my duty was to separate the 8th grade fighters who were two heads taller than me. I was pretty much full of fear. Mr. Rivers surprised the entire staff when he said he had a sore throat those two days, and would do no talking himself, leaving it to Minion 1 and Minion 2. The five who were always on the outs big time Were at my table, so we gave each other loud happy high 5 hands slaps. Minion 3 and Minion 4 Were given the task of sneaking over to peek over my shoulder every time I wrote down something. As I was in manic mode, I filled a 120 page notebook these two days, drawing cartoons. Mr. Rivers’ temper was getting the best of him now; his face was red and he glared at me in particular. I gave him my jauntiest wave and smile, and believe it or not, a wink, hoping it would put him into a little coronary. The second day, we were dismissed early, as Minion 1 and Minion 2 were not as ready to tell us their "full of myself" stories. They let us go early, about noon. No one can infuriate mean, like I can. I pride myself on this.