I Came to Fight

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I can feel it. I am on the precipice of something special. Something so altering, it’s scary. I can smell a conclusion. It’s surpassed my bones and is in my soul. My spirit. Whether it’s victory or defeat, I’m unsure. I will work. I will grind until my fingers are numb. I will push and fight until I get to the finish line and then I will push and fight for more. My time is now. If it’s to make me or break me is unseen, but it’s here. And I will fight. Stay tuned.

The Explicits.

So, as I’ve discussed on other social media forums, I was recently called an asshole. It’s not like I’ve never been called on nor like I’ll never hear it again. This one stung a little though. Usually when I get called an asshole, the offender says it blatantly and without hesitation. This time the offender’s knees buckled when he said it. It was as though he didn’t mean to hurt my feelings by it but he was speaking for the majority in telling me. It was like he had picked the short straw on who would tell mom that we broke her vase playing football in the house. It seemed to physically hurt him which, in turn, kind of hurt me.

So listen, I’ve gone most of my professional life with this “tactfully distasteful” attitude. I do or say what needs to be done or said to get my way when needing to get the job done. Feelings are not on my list of things to give a shit about. Moving up the ranks, people have pretty well gathered that I don’t take shit without receipts or credentials. I’ve probably always been this way but, up until now, never had an outlet for it. I’ve also always had a knack for putting a continental divide between work and my personal life, to most certainly include people. Donald Trump couldn’t pay his way through that shit. It just seemed like a stab at my character. My actual character! The one I leave at home when I get dressed to come to this layer of hell I call a job. I make no attempt to partake in small talk, go out to lunch, hang out after work. None of it. I just want to show up, get the job done, and get the hell out before I intentionally spontaneously combust. To gain notoriety for that by being called an asshole is a little bittersweet.

To me, it means my actions aren’t going unnoticed but horribly misconstrued. In my book, asshole defined means to be drunk even when you’re sober. It means that you know your actions are deplorable, you know your actions could directly ruin another person’s day, you know you’re like this every waking minute and yet you continue on. I don’t go to work with the intention of ruining people’s day. I go to do my job, be left alone, and go home. InĀ  my eyes, everyone I work with are assholes. They know I don’t care to be bothered. So much so, they all work on the 3rd floor and I the first! They know that it is very easy for them to ruin my day at the sight of them and yet…

I’m not really bothered at being called an asshole. Just realize that you’re asking me to be something I’m not to please you. But what do I get in return? Asshole.