Welcome to The Baited Bear! If you’re reading this, chances are, we’ve already got you in our deadly, flowery embrace, so why not just give in and don your tutu and rollerskates for this week’s ButtercupPunch comment diversion!

Todays bear bait comes in the form of office peeves. We’ve all seen an episode of The Office that has caused us to shift uncomfortably in our seats recalling past workplace horrors. We may not all be clever and quick enough to submit our break room soundbytes to Overheard in the Office, but at least we can comfort each other here and share bitchy stories. I’ll go first:

The Work Fairy

There’s a woman at my workplace that, while pleasant, annoys the everloving shit out of me with this little-girly cutesypoo act that she puts on at every opportunity like Brad Pitt and that goddamned fedora. And it’s not like her use of that wholly unprofessional and inappropriate baby-hooker-with-the-rent-due voice is limited to just inter-office personnel. Of course not. She’s been known to trot that tired Santa Baby-esque drag out on the phone with customers. But, see, she’s not acting like a floozy or anything like that. She’s just, you know, imitating a six-year-old. Um, but we all know that a grown woman impersonating someone scarcely out of swaddling clothes does not reflect positively upon said mimic. Which, normally, wouldn’t annoy me. Normally, my attitude towards such intellect-diluting panderings is like, “Ignore. Ignore. Ignore. Have fun digging your own grave, sister!” But, I’ve noticed that when *I* have to call vendors lately, I’m getting patched through to a lot of men who, upon hearing which company I’m calling from, want to call me “sweetie” and make cute little rhymes of my name. However, the pronounced disappointment I hear in their voices when my usual clipped sentences harden into brusque, monosyllabic bleatings, well, it’s like a fresh ice compress on my cold, black heart. Despite potential harassments, the Good Ship Lollipop act by my work contemporary is actually not the most annoying part.

See, she does this other thing, that I call “the work fairy.” Which is when she has some paperwork or something for me to do, and she does not simply drop it into my inbox. She kind of, makes a show of delivering it. The best way I can describe it is like, she does this Glenda-the-Good-Witch-does-the-bend-and-snap maneuver, and, in a disgustingly cheerful manner, graces my inbox with the pleasure of said work. Seriously. The work arrives in my box all but in a cake-scented cloud of glittering fairy dust. She really is a nice woman. Really wonderful person. But something about having my work Disney Princesse’d into my lap just makes my corporate drudgery that much harder to bear.

Your turn, bitches!

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