Stereotypes…

Up until now, I’ve tried very hard not to stereotype people. I’ve been stereotyped. I still get stereotyped. Don’t be a single woman and not have a steady man in your life because that instantly stereotypes you by those who cannot think further than their front gate.

However – buts – like howevers – are always with us - there is this man at work who I have decided I cannot remain in the land of unsteretyoping about him any longer. He is early 30’s, an IT person who lives at home with his parents, spends huge volumes of money on a loud muscle car, electric toys which he plays with at the office, calls women ‘she’, her’ and ‘it’ and then wonders why he has no girlfriend. He eats everything in sight – other people’s lunches, uses their stuff and then breaks it and when a special morning tea is delivered he bemoans the fact that they should have ‘ordered more’ as he eats everything there without deferring to others. He is, in essence, a 6 year old spoilt boy whose parents should have kicked out of the house years ago. Management are ‘aware’ of the problem he presents in the office. Their theory? ‘We must all work together to make him a better person.’ My theory? ‘Oh piss off. I’m not paid enough for that.’

Stereotype him? Oh fuck yes.