Bitches and scorpion bitches

Deathstalker scorpion (Wiki commons)

Some years ago, I ran into a woman, a manager, whom everyone working for her loathed. Not disliked. Loathed. I ended up doing some work there, too, as a consultant. I saw, after a while, that she was so thoroughly despised that she had not a friend in the place. I thought that was cruel, and I really didn’t like participating in so much meanness. So, when I went to the coffee shop for good stuff (as opposed to the garbage from the machines), I brought her some, too.

Before long, she actually began to thaw toward me. Not, mind you, that she didn’t occasionally mess me over not for any business reason but just because she could. I generally just told her it was unacceptable, and that if she wanted me to leave, that’s fine. Otherwise, stop interfering with my getting the job done. Generally, she realized my efforts were valuable and somehow forced herself to leave me alone.

Life went on. Eventually, she encountered some serious business problems that resulted in her getting fired. She actually cried when she realized she was about to be reamed out and let go. I felt bad for her, so I called her after it happened to invite her out for a meal. She was very touched. Then I invited her to a family gathering. My brother tried to cheer her up, make her laugh, which he is very good at. “Holy cow,” he said later, “I never worked so hard for so little.” He couldn’t believe anyone could be so humourless and stiff-necked.

Life went on. Eventually, that woman and I ended up working together again, she as staff, I as consultant, as before. It was a small industry we worked in, so that’s not surprising.  When I had to leave town, leaving a project for an important client in limbo for a few days, I asked that she not touch it; it was so sensitive that any interference would undo what I had done. Not an unreasonable request.

Life did not go on. She messed with it. She virtually ruined it. Her second-in-command could see my anger when I returned and had to pick up the pieces, at enormous expense to me. He told me he would do whatever it took to help me do whatever I wanted to do: leave, stay and fight, whatever. I left. Why? Because I suddenly recalled the old parable about the frog and the scorpion.

A frog and a scorpion were sitting on a riverbank. The scorpion wanted to get to the other side, so he asked the frog for a ride on his back. First, the frog said no. He knew what scorpions were. Eventually, the scorpion―by dint of smiling and generally being a jolly fellow and only just a tiny bit of lying―convinced the good-natured frog to carry him across the river.

Halfway to the other side, the scorpion stung the frog.  “Why’d you do that?” the frog screamed as his little body began to stiffen up and sink. “Now we’re both going to drown.”

“Well,” said the scorpion with a self-satisfied grin, “You knew what I was when you agreed to carry me across.”

Moral of this story: No matter where you are or what you are doing, in every aspect of your life, know the difference between a harmless insect and a scorpion―or between a plain bitch and a scorpion bitch if you will.

What are the signs of a scorpion bitch?
Check back again in a day or two, and I’ll post the list.