Last week, we had a somewhat informal meeting in our break room at work. X, our very own Psycho walked in a few minutes late and the senior attorney who’d called the meeting briefly said hello before continuing with whatever he was saying. Only to be cut off by her saying that she doesn’t go by the name “Psychotic.” It’s just Psycho. Seriously, it was like calling Pam by her full name of Pamela or a guy who typically goes by Fred Frederick instead. But apparently she doesn’t go by her full name, just the shortened form. Whatever. The attorney apologized and the meeting continued. She sat in the corner and kept her sunglasses on. Did I mention that this meeting was in our break room which is INSIDE the building?
About 5 minutes later, Psycho suddenly stood up and gathered up all of her personal belongings loudly. The meeting continued. She cut off whoever was talking and announced loudly that she can’t stay in that room any longer. That the light in the break room hurts her eyes and that’s a fact that’s generally known around the office. It’s too bad that we couldn’t hold the meeting somewhere else where she could actually participate. The senior attorney, without missing a beat, said that he was sorry to hear that. And that a similar meeting would be scheduled later in the week for judges and perhaps she could try to attend that one instead.
Later, after we had all walked back to our desks, he showed me the little post-it that Psycho had left on his computer. “It is NOT ok to call me Psychotic.” The official reprimand . . . For all we know she’s filing her grievance right now with her union representative. Certainly she was yelling about something related to a violation of her rights to the director later on that morning. I tried to glean what she was saying but couldn’t. Damn.
The yelling loudly to management isn’t a first either. A couple of weeks before the “lighting” incident, my friend C messaged me on our office chat to come by her office immediately, making sure to pause for an extra long time near our supervisor’s office on my way over. I did and heard Psycho going off in his office. And I mean OFF. I pretended to be looking for something in the filing cabinets kind of outside his office in order to hear what was going on. I wasn’t the only one. And heard bits and snippets of “Well, I told you weeks ago that I might be coming in late a lot because I have this situation. That the DA is involved, and I’m trying to resolve it.” And, “are you telling me that I can’t use my leave in whatever way I want?” The scene must have lasted for a good ten minutes before she stormed out of his office.
This week she’s been sporting a splint on her arm because she tripped over her dog’s leash while trail running. From what I understand, the doctors were pretty incompetent.
Over the last month or so, probably since around the time of my fun one-on-one conversation with Psycho, there have been a lot of closed doors and, I think, some serious conversations about how to best handle the situation. But OMG, what would we do for entertainment? The hours of office chat that have been devoted to this alone could equal a novel. What would we do with that time instead?
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