Archive for bully

and then there was nothing….

Posted in addictions, bullies, quitting smoking failure, smoking, Society with tags , , , , on May 5, 2009 by wkct

I haven’t posted for a while because nothing was really happening. I gave up quitting for a bit.

I also was enmeshed in some work problems. I won’t blog about my company, but I will say that there was a lot of maneuvering about the bully that runs our department. The end result of all the psychodrama is that I decided not to pick a fight.  I have too long to go for retirement.

I found this interesting article that stated what I already knew: my terribly quick wit is a response to my natural tendency to being depressed.


a good reason not to quit

Posted in addictions, bullies, quitting smoking failure, smoking, Society with tags , , , on April 19, 2009 by wkct

On Saturday I had quite a little adventure that wrecked my plans for quitting this weekend.  I think near felonious assault counts as a good reason to buy a pack of smokes.

We were in the Shopwrong doing a bit of shopping.  Coffee walked up to the open express line while I wandered in a circle sucking on my iced vanilla drink.  We probably didn’t look like we were together. 

My senses weren’t really up, looking for danger, but out of the corner of my eye I caught this big guy practically running through the store coming in at an angle that looked a lot like a trajectory for the register.  I was like, no way, he’s not trying to cut in front of Coffee. He cut right in front of Coffee.

I couldn’t hear her, but I’ve known her so many years I knew what she said to him.  She said, “You cut right in front of me. That’s rude.” She continued to put her stuff on the conveyor as the line cutter purchased his little crap.

He looked down on her – she’s four ten on a good day, and this guy was maybe six four – and bellowed, “Yes I did, and it’s tough, isn’t it?”

I just stood there behind my sunglasses and straw, processing this interchange.  Did this really happen? Did this guy really say that? I contemplated letting it go, but then I thought about it.

It’s one thing to be an ass to me. I don’t care. I’m not looking for trouble. But he picked on this tiny woman because he’s bigger. A fucking bully. And I’ve had enough of bullies.

I see the bullies all day at my company, picking on the weak, abusing the fearful.  I have totally fucking had it.  I decided to have a little conversation with the bully.  I said slowly, in a cool cucumber way, “The proper response would have been ‘I’m sorry.’ ”

The bully immediately went into the classic bully defense, the Poor Me.  He said, “I would have said I was  sorry if she properly talked to me, ” and blathered on some more, basically saying, Coffee was mean to him, that’s why he was rude back.

I’ve known her for many years. I know her reaction in different circumstances.  I know how she says things. I knew this was complete and utter bullshit.

From there on, things became a little cloudy, and I’m not certain exactly how the events transpired,  but  in the middle of the store I reached deep, deep into my limbic brain and pulled out the few words that I stored there.

“You know what, ” I queried, ” FUCK YOU!.”

He tried to play it off, he tried to play the intellectual, hectoring me about my bad language. He tried to stand his ground, and he was good at it. But I wouldn’t let go. For every thing he said to my like, “I’ll talk with you about it when you use proper language,” I simply said…


To everything. Every litle application of logic he tried. Every sentence he over-constructed. He was a long-time bully, and he knew how to deflect, how to never take blame.  I had no interest in discourse, in logic, in a discussion of manners.  The man needed to be smote down, and when the fog of battle momentarily cleared and I could think with my higher functions, I said, “You thought you could pick on a little girl. You’re a bully. GO FUCK YOURSELF.”

He eventually headed for the door, but my admonishment of, “GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE.” brought him back to save face. He rushed up to me so I rushed up to him. Inches from each other he tried to play the school teacher. “You want to fuck me? Do you want me to fuck you?” Cute.

I looked at him and then just roared with disgust, “FUCK YOU YOU FUCKING DICKHEAD.”

Interestingly, each time I yelled at him, Coffee would yell at me, “Stop it!”  She was afraid he was going to hit me. I wasn’t afraid. I was in full on battle mode and ready for a fight to the death. I wasn’t going to let him leave with any face. I was going to tell him all my limbic brain had to offer which was…


I don’t know how he extricated himself from this. He left. He said something. The sound of swords beating on shields filled my ears. I was deaf. I was a machine. When he left, my vision expanded and I was able to see some old dude motioning to me to calm down. He said, “He’s not worth it.”

I turned to grab our groceries, and noticed the poor cashier, a teen boy, completely in shock, wishing to be somewhere else. Odd, I thought, teens see much more violence in a day than an old man like me.

The Ernie Kovacs monkey trio of FUCK YOU, STOP IT, YOU WANT TO FUCK ME? had ended. I explained loudly, “He’s a bully. He thought he could pick on a little girl. Now he’ll go home and pick on his wife. ”

Then I drove to the first gas station I could find and bought smokes.

Ta Da!