I consider myself somewhat laid back. Yes, I can get worked up over stupid little things, just like everyone else. But overall, it's hard to really piss me off. However, it's fairly easy to annoy me. And unfortunately, I could possibly be charged with assault for beating the snot out of those that do annoy me. Whether or not they realize they're doing it.
Referring to me as "special". I've recently written about my issue with eczema on my hands due to an allergic reaction to a new brand of gloves at work. Due to this reaction, I can no longer wear that type of glove, especially that brand. I have taken to wearing vinyl gloves, which seem to be doing okay. Unfortunately, they are clear and therefore are clearly different than all the pretty colored gloves we have. Several people have taken notice of my "special" gloves and have somehow attached the word "special" to me. On several occasions in the last couple weeks, people will say to me, "You're so special, you get special gloves." Or, "Why do you get special gloves?" Things like that. It technically does not offend me, but it annoys the shit out of me, as I've already told folks why I can no longer where the normal gloves. Singling me out as "special" will do you no favors with me. All of my co-workers are aware of the issue, so is my boss, and that's why I no longer touch the other gloves. It is not my fault that our company has decided to be cheap bastards and therefore change to a cheaper brand of glove that has a different additive that I'm apparently allergic to. It is not my fault that I am now forced to wear the "special" gloves. I don't want to be "special", I just want to do my job without my hands itching so bad I want to scratch the skin off. So, quit referring to me as "special" with "special" gloves. You make me sound and feel like I'm the paste-eating kid in the fucking corner.
Make me tell you the same thing ten times. Really? It's one thing if there's something loud in your ear and you can't hear me. It's another if I've already told you five times in the last 30 minutes. I don't care what it is I told you. If you're new to a bench and ask questions, even the same ones, I understand. You need time for it to sink in, to fully understand it all. When you've been doing the bench for several months to several years, I shouldn't have to tell you shit ten times. Don't make me send out "friendly reminder" e-mails to everyone just because you're a damned idiot and refuse to do it right. When you've been somewhere long enough, I shouldn't have to tell you what it is, what to do with it, and why. Put on your big girl panties and fucking do it. I'm not your mother and they don't pay me to be your nanny.
Invade my personal bubble. I fully understand and comprehend that everyone is different when it comes to this idea. Everyone is raised a little differently - different family dynamics or cultures. But y'all need to understand that, too. If we're telling secrets, yes, it's okay to be near me to tell me said secret. But in general, keep in mind the average person likes to have their own personal space. Some elbow room. Don't be standing so close to me that when I move, I do an accidental boob graze. Don't make me feel claustrophobic. If you don't move away when I ask nicely, I get rude. Because you're in my fucking space. If you get upset that I'm getting rude, it's your own damn fault. I asked you nicely to start with. Your inability to move away from me will not induce me to be nicer. In fact, after rude, comes bitch. After that, I become tattle tail and go to the boss. Respect the bubble.
Make me attend a training session where I learn nothing. Waste. Of. Time. Seriously, I could have slept another hour under my wonderful electric blanky. Instead I had to get up earlier than usual to make sure I was early to attend this uber-important training session. Once there, I'm plopped into a chair in a cold office, watching a boring Powerpoint presentation while on a conference call with half a dozen other night shift members from other labs across the country. Where I am forced to hear roll call of every lab in the country, and mine is at the end of the list because it's at the end of the fucking alphabet. Then I'm forced to listen to the creators of this wonderous Powerpoint as they read it verbatim to me over the phone. Really? I couldn't have just clicked through it myself? I had to have it narrated? What the Hell? And may I remind you, I learned nothing I didn't already know. So, what was the point?
Eating food that is not yours. And no you didn't receive an invitation. This has only happened to me once, but it happens to others. And it annoys me to no end that someone felt they that the right to take what's not theirs and eat it. Makes all of us who have had lunches disappear think about bringing a special lunch for that jackwagon, all laced with laxatives. Notice it's plural. It's a simple rule: If you didn't bring, don't eat it. Unless someone says, "Hey, I brought lots of food, so if you'd like some, please, help yourself." If you're not sure that you brought it, perhaps you shouldn't eat it. I mean, you take your lunch fours hours into your shift . . . if you can't remember what you brought, perhaps you should put your name on it. And start taking that Ginko-What-The-Fuck.
Saying my full name repeatedly; or even my nickname. I'm going to change my name. To Olga Hergensfeldt-Zolnerowich. Yeah. Doesn't roll off the tongue so pretty now does it? I know my name, don't wear it out. Don't sing it over and over. I don't say yours, so please, don't say mine. Because when you say my name, I think you need something. When you don't, yet you keep saying my name, I place you in the "cry wolf" pile and I stop paying attention to you. And the next time you really need me and say my name, I'm going to assume that you're just saying it because it's apparently fun for you. Don't say my name just to say my name. It may be fun for you, but it's not fun for me to hear my damn name over and over.
Create drama just to create drama. I don't care where or why. It's one thing to create a scene if you found glass/fingernails/insects/band-aids/phalanges in your soup. It's one thing if someone ate your lunch. Otherwise, nobody cares. We all have complaints or issues, and we will listen to each other in turn, but we know when to stop. Creating drama at every turn just to get attention drives me batshit crazy. When you're attitude walks into the room five minutes before you actually do, it's time to see a professional. When no one wants to speak to you, it's time to re-evaluate. Don't throw a hissy fit about what you're assigned to only to be okay with it when the boss says someone else can do it. Don't have a conniption fit over something not working the way it should, meaning you're life just got harder for the rest of the day. Don't complain that no one helps you when you never ask for help. Don't one-up every story or complaint someone has so that you look like you're always better or worse off. Get a shrink, take a happy pill, and shut the hell up before I find a familial connection to the Mafia.