Cheeky

Dear Sir:

You’re of the opinion that I don’t know my place. I won’t deny that, but I’m amused that you see it that way when I’ve spared you the bulk of it. If only you knew…

I don’t know my place. I’m outspoken and I establish relationships with key people, and I can and will use those ties to my advantage each and every time I go to battle.

Maybe you haven’t noticed this yet, but I don’t enter into a battle if I’m not pretty damn sure I can capture the flag. Maybe you also missed the memo on bad things happening to people who try to make trouble for me to distract from their own weaknesses and failings.

I have suffered you for this long, and I will continue to suffer you for as long as it suits me to do so. Just know this: you may think that because your little box is over mine on the org chart that you have the upper hand, and maybe in a small way that is true, but I am using that very assumption to destroy you. You aren’t even going to see it coming, until you’re flat on your ass and seeing stars.

It didn’t have to be this way. You could have played nice. You could have played fair. You could have earned my respect, and I would have moved heaven and earth to make us both look good. You made this decision, not me, and you’re about to see exactly what a poor decision it was.

Which begs the question- could it be, perhaps, that you didn’t know my place?

Bring.  It.

no love and certainly no kisses,

one hell of a wolf in a sweet little lamb costume.

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