The coworker.

I like to be liked. I need to be liked. My coworker, “J”, doesn’t like me. She used to, until I wrote her bio. It was supposed to be a casual bio, not a regurgitation of her resume (which, she never provided to me, which is kind of important when writing someone’s bio!). Well, let’s just say she wasn’t too happy with her bio. Before you read it, you must know that I liked her, respected her and did not have one negative thought as I wrote this. Here it is…

How “J” ended up in the ____ department of ______ and elbow deep in Excel spreadsheets is a bit of mystery. A self-professed writer and aficionado of the writing process, her career was reaching near-celebrity status as the Editor-in-Chief and Publisher of her own African-American bridal magazine.

 

Everything she had done leading up to that position had molded her for that role—Junior Copywriter at ____, then Copy Chief at _____ managing nine other writers. She even freelanced for a while. Direct mail? Sure. But, spreadsheets? Fat chance. And, yet, here she is grinding out monthly insurance mailings. Fortunately, “J” can be optimistic, “Excel keeps me organized and disciplined. It rounds me out.” 

 

Nowadays, she’s leading the charge on multiple projects for a handful of departments. If you read between the lines, you’ll figure out that “J” is a workaholic. Bring on the challenge! She’ll make it work to her advantage, and everybody wins.

Not bad, right? Well, she was so offended that she went to my boss (with whom I have an excellent working relationship) for her perspective. Turns out “J” has 20 years writing experience, plus a communications degree from a reputable university. Would’ve helped to have had THAT information! Of course, I was shocked and upset that she would think I would write something negative. I immediately went to her and apologized letting her know it wasn’t my intent at all. All she said was, “Thank you.” That’s it. Nothing else. After that, she barely looked at me and didn’t really speak to me unless she had to. But, she’s been professional so I can’t complain, right? Apparently, she’s dealing with major health and psychological issues with her mother so she’s ultra sensitive. She’s also an African-American and think I might possibly be a racist trying to put a black woman down. Let me be clear…a racist I am not. My daughter’s godfather is a black man. And that’s all I’m going to ever say about that subject. Needless to say, I’ve lost ALL respect for her. I mean all. It is sad to think that people go through life thinking that way. It must be such a burden. It’s sad.