monster sarcasm rally

Today I shall tell you about the princess. The princess is one of the guys I work with. The princess writes reports and I edit them.

Excuse me; this entry will now be interrupted so that the Ferengi can yell at me. Our boss ordered extra copies of a printed report. This makes her angry, so she takes it out on me.

Anyways... Back to the princess... He writes reports. I edit them. I don't know why I bother. The whole process would be much smoother and simpler if I simply handed the document back untouched and told him it was wonderful.

As it is, I correct his his grammar, which is not so much wrong as it is better suited to poetry than research publications. He comes whining back to me that Microsoft Friggin' Word's grammar check didn't have a problem with it! Alternatively, he finds an example on the Internet of somebody who said things the same way he did.

The way things work around here, he has the right to overrule my edits and use whatever bad grammar he chooses. He won't, though. He'd much rather stand at my desk and try to convince me that his way is the right way, the only right way. He's a tiny little man, with a soft, high-pitched voice. I just sit here and glare at him. As he gets more and more upset, his voice gets higher and higher. Sometimes I stand up just so that I can look down my nose at him. But I digress...

One time I refused to see things the way he wanted me to (mainly because he was wrong) and he eventually squeaked that he was just trying to discuss things rationally and logically so that we could come to an agreement, and there was no need for me to get so emotional. Then he stomped off in a huff.

Here's a hint: calling me emotional is never going to win you an argument.