<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/plusone.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d5316950\x26blogName\x3dThe+Therapy+Sessions\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dBLUE\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttp://therapysessions.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_US\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://therapysessions.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d3750167096300588372', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>
The Therapy Sessions
Thursday, April 22, 2004

Take a brat to work day

Today is "Take A Child To Work Day" at my company.

The place is crawling with little people. Normally quiet breakrooms are filled with chirpy voices, and solemn halls echo with giggles.

I hate it.

Alright, I admit it: I don't (under most circumstances) like being around other people's kids.

I don't make small talk very well with adults. Making it with children is even worse. A lot of people make their voices high pitched and happy, and they ask banal questions to the youngsters.

Homey don't play that. Hell, I used to hate that shit - even when I was four.

And there is the fact that many kids today are just uncontrollable brats. The whine and cry without the slightest provocation, and they are always bored and unimpressed.

My response to this has to be restrained: if some coworker's kid defies me and pisses me off, I can't crush them. I have to smile and act like I enjoy little brats.

So I put on my best Stepford smile and try to get away.

So, naturally, kids love me. They know I want them to beat it, and they find this intriguing. They chase me, pile on me, force me into their games, play tricks on me and tell me their lame jokes.

Women who devote their lives to understanding children don't understand why children tend to congregate around the grumpy guy reading the magazine.

Somebody get these kids away from me before I go insane!

With anti-child biases like this, it is only natural that I once found myself as a camp counselor.

Maybe that is how I got so warped.

Powered by Blogger