Little Miss Perfect

If you're familiar with the comic strip Baby Blues, you know that Wanda McPherson has a nemesis named Bunny. Bunny is supermom. Bunny can squeeze out kids, whip up souffles, keep the house spotless and still manage to look beautiful. She's also oblivious to the fact that Wanda can't stand her.

I have a Bunny in my life, a coworker as it so happens, only she doesn't have Bunny's charm and she doesn't pretend to be friendly. I'll call her "Bambi". At least she's in another squadron so, I don't work with her every day. She's uber-competent and uber-organized. She runs marathons, eats a perfectly balanced diet, and for the icing on the cake, she used to be in beauty pageants. I haven't seen her house, but I'm sure that's perfect too. She doesn't have a cat that pukes on the carpet in 17 places after eating the dog's food and it's probably organized like a Real Simple magazine. She's the type that will probably separate in a few years after the first baby comes along and make a mint being an Arbonne International consultant.

My dislike began at the end of my last deployment. She was the officer taking my place. The second she stepped off the jet, she was snippy and dismissive and acted like she was barely tolerating my presence. I tried to show her the folder and template for writing a mission report. Bambi cut me off saying she already knew how to write one. The next day she needed my help writing the mission report. She managed to cop the attitude until I left. Every request I made was met with a heavy sigh. Before she got to the FOL, I had called her to make sure she had everything in order and if she needed anything. I suggested that when she got here, maybe we could go for dinner or something. She bluntly told me, "I already have friends."

Well, screw you too. You'd think what with all Bambi's training to be Miss America, she might have picked up some social graces somewhere along the way. I guess charm school wasn't on the agenda. I expressed my irritation with the deployed DO on my way out the door. He said she didn't have any idea what she was doing.

It's not that I resent the fact that she's so together and disciplined. Nobody's holding a gun to my head making me eat jalapenos stuffed with cream cheese and I could always organize my house instead of watching Corner Gas reruns. It's just that she's so uppity--like people don't meet her standards. Hell, people are people. Everybody has some kind of vice. Even Bambi. Now to find the chink in her armor.