She's a little rigid.
She's a little anal.
She redirects us when we're late, when we leave something on the printer for too long, when we refuse to answer our phones, and when we do anything she feels is not productive.
She wants to make sure everything, EVERYTHING, is done by the book. She does not leave one rock unturned or one therapist un-lectured in her quest to be thorough.
I have to walk by her fish-bowl office in order to get to my office and so if she has things she would like me to improve upon mornings are her prime opportunity to lecture me. Unfortunately, mornings are the worst time to lecture me.
Every monday morning I do the same routine: pretend I'm listening to her as she lectures me on leaving five minutes early on Friday, walk into her office while saying, "Mmm Hmm, Mmm Hmm", and check my box. This Monday I noticed something oddly 3D in my box under some paperwork. I pulled out a braided fake-hair extension. There's a lot of things in life I don't want to touch without proper gloving and used hair extensions are no exception. Between my pinched pointer finger and thumb I held up the hair extension as far extended from by body as physically possible and said to her in disgust, "What is this?"
"I think that belongs to your client." She states simply, innocently.
"Soooooo...?"
"I think it fell off her head last week after you left early Friday." She calmly replies.
"Soooooo...?"
"You need to make sure she gets it back." She says with authority.
I walked over to the garbage can and violently threw it away with a downward whip of my hand. And then I pumped a large amount of hand sanitizer into my palm and proceeded to dramatically sanitize my hands and the entire length of both arms. "That is weird and gross!" I cried as I made a swooping exit from her office.
She means well but there's a line one should not cross.
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