Papa Don't Take No Mess

October 1, 2006... Happy Flowers, consisting of Mr. Horribly Charred Infant on vocals and Mr. Anus on guitar, released a handful of records in the late '80s and early '90s. The Happy Flowers' "thing" was noisy sub-heavy-metal guitar with lyrics about childhood traumas ... delivered in the voice of an adult pretending to be a traumatized child. It's a funny concept and appropos given my experiences of late.

Happy Flowers - Why Didn't You Tell Me You Were Bringing Home A Baby?

Bewilderingly, I find myself employed as a department manager in a small office. In August, I agreed to share an employee's labour with another department: I'd get her assistance for five days, they'd get her assistance for five days.

Late in the month, a colleague in the other department asked me if "Sharon" would be available in the next week. Given that I'd had Sharon's assistance for a grand total of one hour at that point, and given that the other department had had her assistance for five days minus one hour, I said no. I was uncharacteristically firm about it. So much so, that the colleague and her supervisor both remarked about it... Yet, the next week, my colleague asked Sharon directly for help!

I was livid. But I slept on it over night, hoping the steam between my ears would dissipate.

The next morning, full of dread, I pulled my colleague aside and tried to articulate why what she had done bothered me: we'd settled the issue of Sharon's availability the previous week, yet "Iris" decided to ignore my decision and ask Sharon for help nonetheless. She had put me in the position of having to fight for Something to which I was entitled.

Iris was unrepentant. It was good for me to learn how to assert myself, she said. And, when I replied that it wasn't her job to teach me that lesson, she said that I didn't have "the collaborative spirit." That was pretty much the end of the conversation, aside from her asking, as I walked by, "Do I have to ask your permission to talk to Sharon, too?"

I let both her supervisor and mine know what had transpired.

Iris stopped speaking to me. Instead, it seemed, she began to lavish attention on the only other boy in the office. Twice she even made a point of loudly bringing him sweets...

On Friday, Iris spoke one or two complete sentences to me when she didn't absolutely have to. She even offered me some Pocky... I hope we can work things out 'cause she's pretty neat. But papa don't take no mess.

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