Plain Old Motherfucking Oatmeal

She started work today. Sukie met her. She reached out to shake the new girl's hand, and she received a small, wimpy shake. In turn, Sukie crushed her hand. I avoided her most of the day. She shuffled into my office to ask if I was busy. I said yes. I know, I know. I'm a bitch. Here's the thing. Let's say that you go to the Waffle House. You order a big plate of buttery waffles, fried eggs with cheese, hash browns smothered and scattered, and a big glass of orange juice. You are ready for this wonderful, greasy meal. The waitress comes over and gives you a bowl of plain oatmeal. It doesn't have any brown sugar. There are no raisins. It's just plain old oatmeal. I thought the hiring committee had agreed on the Big Slam breakfast, and then I get plain fucking oatmeal. I need to get over it, but I'm pissed. My boss even sent out an email to the hiring committee and said that WE, yes, WE had changed our minds. I didn't change my fucking mind. He changed his. So, now I'm working with plain old oatmeal and a douche bag. Fuckers.