Dear Guy Who Wouldn’t Let Me Merge,
It was just a finger. I wouldn’t have given it to you if you’d have let me merge into your lane instead of mounting the hitch on my bumper with your Jeep. At the dog park, that’s aggressive, alpha dog behavior and it is discouraged. I had totally forgotten about your poor manners until I’d pulled into my parking space at work, which just happened to be where you work, too. What a small world!
It was a really small world after you trapped me into my parking space with your Jeep, rolled down your window and barked at me right through the best lyrics of a Cranberries song I was listening to on the radio. You know, that hit with all the yodeling? In your head, in your head, they are fighting!
I got out of the car and I realized it wasn’t just in my head. Remember when you followed me through the parking lot yelling at my back? And then I turned around and made that mafia gesture? As if scratching the bottom of my chin with the back of my hand? To be honest, the whole time I lived in New York I never made that gesture to anyone. You were my first. I wrote about it in my diary when I got home. It was way better than I had ever imagined it could be. I learned that from an R movie and it had the same effect on you as it did on the guy in the movie, just before they shot him.
I hope you didn’t mind that I didn’t wait around in the parking lot until you were done venting. To tell you the truth, you were starting to embarrass me with all the raw emotion you expressed so publicly. It was a bit of a turn off. I thought I’d completely ditched you when I signed in at the front desk, just made it onto the elevators before the doors closed on me, took a left on the fourth floor, a right after the second set of cubicles, a left after the copier, and slid into the nondescript cubicle that I hadn’t yet decorated with pictures of my cat. This being my first week in Ohio, fresh from New York.
So you can imagine how confused I was, being the new kid in town, when I saw a familiar face peering down the side of my cubicle! Wait, wait! Don’t tell me! I know this person but…from where!? Oh! Right! Now I remember! My friend from the parking lot! How quickly I forget when I’m five months pregnant!! Yea, that’s right, pal. Picking a fight with a pregnant woman? Dude, bad karma!
When I’d been called into Human Resources a few minutes after you found me, and I saw you sitting there I recognized you instantly. Something told me this wasn’t going to be good but they gestured for me to sit in the chair next to you and opposite the human resources director. You made a weak argument that I should have flipped around to benefit me. You said: “What if I was a guest! And she gave me the finger!? How would that make our company look!” It was funny, really, because, this being my first week in the state, if anyone was a guest here, pal, it was me.
Guests in the Midwest, though, who do not know the Bible, are at a disadvantage. That topped the list of the on-the-job training I got that morning. I knew I was out of luck when the Human Resources director heard both sides, stroked his beardless chin and said, “Now, what would Solomon say?”
My old boss in New York told me I should have said: Solomon would say it happened on the exit ramp, not in Palestine, so take it out of my office! I just sat there looking at my hands on my lap, trying to block out how large and satisfied you looked in my periphery about the direction in which this was going. What else could they do but show the temp the door, which is proof that I was, in fact, the guest, using your argument. Guests are showed the door.
Watch your back.
Love,
Amy
~~~~~
Dear Therapist,
Thank you for helping me with my anger management issues that I got from not confronting people who ticked me off. Oops. My bad. No one can make me feel a certain way. When he did this I felt that. Work in progress!
Well, this morning I was really angry. You’re right. Holding onto it, I realize, is not healthy for me. I need to pinpoint the source and confront it. Find my voice. Grow a pair. So I made a mental list of the times I did not stick up for myself and that’s when it hit me. I remembered this one time when I failed miserably.
There was this guy in a Jeep who wouldn’t let me merge. I might have overreacted and gave him the finger. In New York it means “good morning.” In Ohio, it means “F you.” I can give him grace for the cultural misunderstanding. The part I cannot accept, still, after all these years, is that even though he was clearly the jerk here, I got fired. I like to reframe that to “I was let go.” It sounds nicer and isn’t as humiliating.
Well, I know this might be unconventional but I can’t wait to tell you about my personal growth experience. It was awesome and I feel so much better about myself now. I couldn’t remember his name at first, but I went through the alphabet several times and finally his name came to me. I recalled the place of business using the same trick. Before I knew it, I was on the phone with the front desk of my former temporary employer.
I “star sixty-sevened” before I dialed so they wouldn’t know who was calling, now that I’ve outgrown my tendency for self-sabotage, and, identified myself as Carla from Americom Collection Agency. They put me through right away.
“Rick?”
“This is he.”
“You might not remember me. We met about seven years ago in the parking lot at work? I was five months pregnant?”
“Uh..(clears throat)…I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t remember.”
“Oh, I do. I gave you the finger out on the thruway for not letting me merge and you followed me to my desk and got me fired?”
“WHO IS THIS!!!”
“It doesn’t matter who this is. I just want you to know it has been seven years and I still think you’re an idiot!”
When I hung up the phone I felt like a million bucks! You were right! Dealing with my anger is very rewarding work.
Thank you for everything you’ve taught me. Maybe next we’ll take a look at revenge.
Love,
Amy
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