Trailer Park Trash … aka TPT… my new address.. I make weird choices some days… It’s a reference to my co-worker. She is the stereo-typical embodiment of trailer park trash. She is large. Her clothes are not. The other day the middle button on her blouse was undone. I didn’t point it out. I’d rather stare. She is raw. Not in the unfinished way, rather the survived-but-barely way. Her life seems to have taken is taking a wire brush to her on a daily basis. Kids in trouble, burglaries, police, school problems, money problem, parent problems. It’s a wonder there’s anything left of her at all, especially brains… which is debatable depending on the day. Although, if she had had brains in the first place, maybe she wouldn’t be here. I don’t have much sympathy for people who find themselves pregnant at inconvenient times. Especially more than once. Not in this day and age. (Good god I am starting to sound like my mother) My sister has a co-worker in a similar boat… her life sucks, her kids suck, her husband is a low life loser. They are also TPT. No, they don’t live in a trailer. And she makes good money (as does my co-worker) (who does live in a trailer) (or “manufactured home” as she would so defensively call it). TPT is a way of living… a state of mind (come to think of it, my secretary at my former job is TPT, also) a totally defeatist attitude… a resolute belief that the whole world hates you and is out to get you. The glass is always half empty. They are all total downers to work with. How in hell can you maintain an upbeat attitude at work when these type of people do nothing but drag you to the bottom of their scum-infested pond? My boss actually told me he is afraid I will get fed up with TPT and quit. Good psychology on his part. I have firmly dug in my heels. I have outlasted worse people than her. And I would not wish to desert my other office-mates. They are very kewl and very fun. And they would kill me if I quit.
I must to bed. Yours always, TobbinTem
