Saturday, March 4, 2017

Bitter and sweet

I diligently shelved some books, came downstairs, and was chatting with a co-worker for a bit to recharge my shelving batteries. One among my great bullpen of bonus managers drifted by with a sudden, innocent, terrible, and burning interest in where I was scheduled and what I was planning to do next. It's been a little while since a manager around here has pointlessly and directly messed with me. So I had forgotten the small, pleasurable part of it. I had forgotten how simple it is to tightly smile and say "Oh, yes, right away, I am off right now to do just what I was going to do". I had forgotten that you simply wheel a cart of non fiction books to the elevator, go upstairs to the stacks, and then write a blog post hinting at your current dark feelings about said manager. Then you follow this all up with an agreeable enough time, standing quietly in the stacks, reading from our interesting collection of books on all subjects, all cloaked fair in the marvelous robes of righteous indignation.

Petty revenge is its own expression of feeling, and it can be more appropriate, alas, than anyone lets on.

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