It pains me, and shames me to reveal this. Got into trouble at work again. A written complaint. “My behaviour”. I stand accused by a precious youngster, brimming with bitchiness and self-entitlement, who still lives at home and is half my age. “My language” seems to be the issue. I openly admit to using foul language. It’s part of the way I express myself in any fearful* or angry moment. I would never use it to directly or intentionally offend.**
I am not going to bore you with the details. There’s her side of the story, there’s my side of the story. And, let’s welcome Mr Murphy’s Law into the picture – we were the only two in the office at the time. I can’t guarantee you my side is the gospel truth, because my perception of reality is tainted by bipolar. And I forget an awful lot of things. Hence, constant self-doubt.
Its a double-edged sword. Co-workers only started complaining about me once I went public about my diagnoses. But at least with full disclosure, I do have the labour law in my favour. So while I am incapable of defending myself, the law has my sorry-arsed, disabled, back.
And going forward you ask? I’m clueless. In an effort not to offend said individual, I shall have to stop talking at work. I can hear you all gasp, aaahhhhh, ohhhhh no, she can’t do that! I’ve done it before, and I will do it again. It’s the ONLY way people will not cast judgment, accusations, and written complaints against me. Its the only I know of that will help me keep my job. I’m now single. If I loose my job I’m fucked (fearful* moment).
**past men/lovers/fathers are excluded