Some Bullies Never Grow Out Of It

It is a fundamental law that even the best offices must have one insufferable bully. Mine is a fifty-eight-year-old woman who dislikes most other women, especially those younger than her. She is fine with me as she thinks of me being this meek, little thing who will roll over. And at first, she is right! But as I get healthier and wiser, I stop putting up with her game. She, therefore, trades her methods of gaslighting and manipulation for some very old-school methods of bullying and harassing: intimidation and blackmail.

Currently, I am refusing to be alone with her and have made it abundantly clear that it has to do with the fact she threatened to fire me over something that was not my fault to try and blackmail me into (again) doing her job for her. It backfired as I already had a resolution, so I immediately sent both the issue and the solution to the owner with a comprehensive, “How did this happen in the first place?”

Basically, I have made it known to her (and to the company’s owner) that we will never be alone with the door closed again nor will I pick up her calls. If she needs something from me that is work-related, she can send an email or mention it in the morning meetings with everyone else present.

Today, though, she sees that I am alone in my office and decides to try once more to offer me “friendship” and “comradery” — aka gaslighting and love-bombing. She starts it by making her presence known by loudly locking and unlocking the main door several times and banging on it in between.

Bully: “Yooooo-hoooo. Anyone here?”

Me: *Sigh* “Hello.”

Bully: “Why are you sitting in the dark?”

I shrug and continue working. The easiest way to get her to leave is to ignore her and not engage. Any form of engagement will result in her thinking she has a free pass to continue.

Bully: “I have been meaning to talk to you about something. It is work-related.”

Me: “Okay. Let’s bring it up in the morning meeting in an hour. I am busy right now.”

Bully: “I—” 

She pauses and looks over my shoulder at something. The parking lot is in that direction, so I know why she turns white as a sheet.

Bully: “Is— Is [Owner] here?”

I look around the dimly lit office, knowing she knows what his car looks like.

Me: “Well, obviously, no.”

Bully: “I got to go.”

She TORE it out the door to go upstairs where her office was located. Turns out, she’d thought [Owner] was already here and in his office, and therefore, she thought she could corner me while he wasn’t paying attention. She’d seen [Owner] pulling into the parking lot through my window and panicked.

She never did bring up what her “work-related” issue was in the morning meeting. It was probably another grand speech about how “us gals” got to stick together against “those boys” (and other women). Barf.