By Beauty Damned

Style Biter

I normally do not blog about co-workers or friends when they are causing me distress or irritation, but I'm going to have to make an exception to the rule today because I really need to vent about something that is driving me up the wall.

A co-worker is on my very last nerve. She is somewhat of a friend. Though I hesitate ever to categorize co-workers as friends, because there is that clear distinction that, except in rare circumstances, I usually do not socialize with co-workers outside of the workplace.

This "friend/co-worker" that I'm speaking of, we don't have a lot in common really. I don't even really know how we befriended eachother, because I remember thinking she was a real bitch the first time I ever came into contact with her. We were raised in very different environments and have very different ways of looking at the world. Sometimes she is extremely negative to the point that I try to avoid contact because just a short conversation with her can put me in a bad mood. Occasionally, she is in a good mood and can potentially be interesting to talk to, but honestly, it's not her usual demeanor. Nonetheless, for some reason we somehow ended up taking cigarette breaks together everyday, eating lunch together frequently and sometimes going shopping together. This is where the problems come in.

First of all, the cigarette breaks. Depressing. (No, not the impending cancer - the conversation!) Sometimes I just want to go on a cigarette break and enjoy the silence or have a pleasant conversation. With her, it's never silent and it's rarely pleasant. She is just one of those people who has a negative response for everything. She has a trademark snear that she uses regularly. She makes faces at complete strangers because she doesn't like the looks of them, what they're wearing or feels that they are in her way. If the guy who sweeps the ground outside of our building removes the cigarette butts from the ashtray that she is hovering over, she gives him a dirty look for being in her way. If a guy at the sandwich shop puts her sandwich on the wrong bread, instead of saying "I asked for wheat" she says "you just don't listen do you!!!" If a homeless person walks by or scavenges a trashcan, she can barely repress her expression of contempt. The attitude can be a bit of a downer. Forgive me for going on about it, but she has very little compassion or kindness for strangers at all. I guess, she's a stereotypical New Yorker in a lot of ways. Jaded, negative, impatient. She assumes a sour face and finds the worst possible angle from which to view almost everything. And then she acts like she's miss honey-sunshine and doesn't understand why she encounters so much conflict. (She asked me one day when the employee of the month results came out "how come I don't ever fuckin get employee of the month?" I just laughed. Could have something to do with the fact that you roll your eyes or get surly with everyone you come into contact with!) The whole thing is tiresome. But I would never want to hurt her feelings by refusing to have lunch with her or stop going on cig breaks with her. When it all comes down to it, it's not her bad attitude that really bothers me the most, though there have been times I've made excuses to get out of "obligatory" contact. But it may be time to quit smoking and start eating lunch at my desk.

Like I said, the bad attitude isn't the thing that's really bothering me. (You thought that was it??? You wished that was it??? Oh no.)

She bites my style.

No, I'm not being conceited. No, I am not imagining things. It started happening about a year ago. I went to the Gap across the street and bought two hooded zip-up sweaters. One red, one black. She wasted no time in going and buying the two exact same sweaters. No problem. Then there were the basic Gap shirts. I bought them. Shortly after, so did she. Of course, these are very standard, non-distinct items and it didn't bother me. Then there was the sweater sale at Ann Taylor. I went. I bought a couple sweaters. When I got back, she saw what I'd bought, went to Ann Taylor, and out of all the sweaters on sale, she bought the same ones. Same colors and everything. Okaaaaay. Not that big of a deal, right? Several other instances occurred where it was not that big of a deal, but it started to wear on me a little. Without fail, when we went shopping, if she saw me buying something she would ask "oh where did you find that?" and then she would go and pick up the same thing and buy it too.

We have such different personalities, completely different body types....why would we want to dress alike? It really bothered me when I would come to work only to see that she was wearing the same sweater as me. I tried to shrug it off. I tried not to feel like a little girl whose friend won't stop copying. Then, recently, it hit new heights.

We went to a place down the street and I bought a couple of crinkly printed t-shirts, a black silk sweater set and a pair of grey pinstripe slacks. She bought the same grey slacks, the same silk sweater set (I got the last black one so she was stuck with the hot pink), but not the crinkly t-shirts. But lo and behold, when she saw me wearing one of the t-shirts, that had a print of Marilyn Monroe on it, she decided she wanted one too and went back to the store, but they were fresh out. Phew. Close call.

A couple weeks later we went back to the same store. I told her I'd meet her there because she had to go to the bank. They had restocked and I saw one of the crinkly Marilyn t-shirts like the one I had. I grabbed the last one and shoved it behind a rack of black blazers so she wouldn't see it when she got there. I know, it's terrible, but I had reached a point of desperation. This time I found two pairs of corduroys and a pair of jeans that I liked. I should have cased the joint, taken note of the things I liked and come back later without her. But I didn't think she would do it again! Never underestimate a style biter. The corduroys were super soft, one in a brilliant olive green and one in brick red with cute buttons and thick tab-waistbands. I was really excited about them. The jeans were perfect too.

When I came out of the dressing room she saw the cords and jeans in my hands and immediately went and picked up the same two pairs of cords and the identical jeans for herself. My blood began to boil. I didn't show it. I made my purchases and she put her stuff on hold until she could come back the next day with the cash.

I prayed that she would change her mind or decide she couldn't afford to buy any new clothes. No such luck. The next day she went back. I stayed behind. She put the cords on layaway and purchased the jeans. At the same time, she discovered the t-shirt I'd hidden behind the rack of blazers. (She told me "guess what I found?" I knew, but I played dumb. She said "that Marilyn Monroe t-shirt! Someone tried to hide it, but I found it." You don't say?) She also found the black silk sweater set that I thought I'd gotten the last one of and bought that too. That was the point at which I felt my face getting hot and my jaw getting tight and I just had to walk away. I didn't convey my anger to her and she clearly didn't pick up on it, but I went back to my desk and stewed.

I kept telling myself I was overreacting. That it's not a big deal. But everytime I think of the many items that she has gone out and bought directly after I've bought them, I get tight all over again. Meanwhile, I've never done the same to her. Last winter we tried on beautiful coats at Kenneth Cole. But when she decided to purchase one, I decided against it, as I had no intention of wearing the same coat as her. Same with the nice leather boots she bought. I liked them, but I went somewhere else and found a different pair that I liked just as much, so that we wouldn't come to work looking like fucking twins everyday.

I guess the part about it that gets to me the most is that we are such different people. If it was an item here and there, okay. If it was shampoo or makeup, okay. But it's out of control and I have seriously resolved never, ever to go shopping with her again for as long as I live. That's the only thing I can do, right? If she asks me where I got something that I'm wearing, I'll just say "I don't remember" or "it was a gift."

Am I crazy, or is this really as fucked up as I think it is??? I have never had a friend do this to me. Even friends who have a really similar style! And the weirdest part is that she doesn't even seem to think it's strange in the least. Doesn't she have an identity of her own? Why is she biting mine?

This morning I wore my new red corduroys and a black chiffon top that she doesn't have. She immediately started talking about how she can't wait to go and pick up her cords from layaway. I thought to myself "is she so oblivious? Why would she want to have the same pair of red cords as me? Why would she want to come to work in them one day only to find that I'm wearing the same ones?" Well that's it, if she buys them, I'll never wear them on a weekday again. Furthermore, I am never wearing my crinkly Marilyn t-shirt to work again either. The bitch can have it. I'm shopping in Brooklyn from now on.

Posted by Maria at September 13, 2004 03:03 PM