It wasn’t even a dark and stormy night– it was just the night we were supposed to eat whatever Hello Fresh meal we’d replaced with picheezitsa earlier in the week. But by the time Alex got home I was waiting in the doorway, ready to pounce and writhing with desire because there was only one thing I wanted in that moment:
Uniekass Robusto gouda from Whole Foods.
I’ll skip the next 25 minutes of seemingly inconsequential decisions– turning right on red, tying my shoe, pausing for a sneeze– but the evidence shows clear malicious intent on the part of the universe, because within five paces of entering Whole Foods I locked eyes on none other than My (former) Asshole Boss.
I stopped dead in my tracks and bent my knees as though I could suddenly be like “adios, bitches!” then sprout wings, blast through the ceiling, and soar to freedom.
But he’d already spotted me. I was in his thrall and like a heat seeking missile he headed straight for us. And we all know why. Because this was the moment he’d been waiting for and the opportunity to have what he’d asked for a thousand times. He was finally going to meet the object of his obsession.
Everything went slo-mo. Clouds covered the moon and birds stopped singing as I looked at Alex with terror, telepathically communicating a single word: “RUN”
But it was too late. My (former) Asshole Boss sauntered over with a huge grin on his face and held his hand out to Alex.
“I’ve heard so much about you.”
Except he hasn’t. I don’t talk about my personal life at work– especially not with my bosses. This was always a source of professional tension because apparently I’m the only married woman in the entire world who doesn’t complain about her husband. And why would I, when Alex is clearly a god among men? He doesn’t pander (one of my least favorite human qualities) or make any effort to disguise his disinterest in foul humans, which meant he stood there with the most “die in a fire” facial expression I’ve ever seen. His body was angled so far in the opposite direction that he almost looked double jointed.
But My (former) Asshole Boss was never one to pick up on social cues. Here’s what anyone with a soul would’ve realized: It’s Friday night, I’m wearing a hoodie that unsuccessfully conceals my lack of a bra, and all I want to do is spend $45 on cheese so I can go home to my couch.
Instead he acted like I’d left him at the altar. He needed to pull a Kelly Clarkson and tell me how great things were since I’d be gone: “We’re the top blah blah, I made a bajillion dollars, you would have made a bajillion dollars too, I took your replacement on a trip to Australia, we’ve expanded into 9 employees now.”
Meanwhile Alex had slowly shuffled away, trying to catch a ride on one of those shopping carts that looks like a green bus and has a fake steering wheel.
M(f)AHB: “So how’s the new gig, is it not working out, do you regret leaving? Do you not like it as much as you thought you would?”
He wrinkled his nose and shook his head like he could body language hack his way into my psyche.
Me: “Uh, no, it’s great”
Me on the inside: “Draining abscesses on satan’s sphincter would be better than working with you.”
M(f)AHB: “Weren’t you going to write a little book or something?”
(When I quit I told him I was going to carpe yolo my dreams because he kept saying it was Alex’s fault “because his employees’ husbands are always jealous.”)
Me: “Oh, it’s good. Writing is good.”
Me on the inside: “I wonder what I’ll title the blog post I write about this entire interaction.”
M(f)AHB: “Oh yeah? What have you written?”
Me: “… stuff.”
Me on the inside: “At least half a dozen posts about you, specifically.”
Meanwhile Alex was ten paces away, effectively camouflaging himself as a pale mannequin in a $130 tank top made from woven goji berries.
Me: “So I better go buy my weight in cheese, ha. Ha. eh ha.”
M(f)AHB: *looks me up and down* “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
Me on the inside:
M(f)AHB: “We should get coffee some time though, I’d love to catch up and hear how things are going with you.”
Me: “eeeeh heeh eeeuuhh ha uh.”
Me on the inside: “I think I’ll title my blog post “I ran into my former asshole boss at whole foods” that’s straight to the point.”
M(f)AHB: “I mean, I hope there are no hard feelings or anything. I certainly don’t have any.”
Me: “Hahaha so crazy right, whole foods, cheese, friday.”
Me on the inside: *immediately ages 17 years, grows talons, craves blood*
Thankfully at that point Alex set the entire store on fire, just to rescue me. NOW, because I love you humans and because the universe hates me and because I exist to selflessly provide you with schadenfreude, I’m going to let you decide how I should respond when he inevitably texts:
A: “New phone, who dis?”
B: A meme that perfectly communicates my intense hatred.
C: “Sure!” (and then I go and take copious notes)
D: *link to a post I wrote about him*
My life is in your hands.
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