I haven't been fired... yet.

A co-worker of mine just came into my office. I have some new uniform samples hanging up and, upon seeing them, he said, "Hey, this is the tie I picked out. This combination looks good."

"Yeah, it's sharp," I said, not bothering to look up from the invoice I was paying.

"Sharp? How is it sharp?"

"Looks good together," I muttered. "It's... sharp." Why are you still here?

"They're not sharp. They're soft."

I stare at him, finally realizing he's bored and trying to irritate me.

"I'm going to kick you in the fucking head right now," I tell him, straight-faced.

We both start laughing. It's all a joke. We're just two co-workers sharing a moment while the higher-ups are in a meeting.

Then I tell him, "You make me want to kill myself and my whole fucking family."

He's still laughing as he walks back to his desk.

It's just another normal run-of-the-mill interaction between co-workers who actually like each other.

Many years ago, when I first began working for The Hotel, when Hubs was actually Boss, myself and another girl were regularly scheduled to work together. And, as it naturally happens, we became friends.

It may have been due to our shared love of the F word. We could really let it fly when provoked, and we were provoked a lot.

At that time, The Hotel was in serious need of an overhaul. People were constantly disappointed with the quality, especially since it was supposed to be a "resort." It wouldn't be until Hubs and I transferred that it finally got the love and attention it deserved and desperately needed.

Working at the front desk was draining. Guests can be mean when they realize they're paying $200+ per night for a room that has warped carpet, peeling wall paper and old, beat-up furniture (we were an over-sized Super 8) and that kind of behavior can really wear you down after a while.

Eventually, you need to vent. Since we couldn't do that at the front desk (we had some tact), we'd take a 10 and go behind closed doors to let a few colorful words fly.

I suppose we were more offensive than we thought, because one night Hubs pulled us aside to tell us that people had complained. Hey, it wasn't our fault their offices were so close to where we were dropping F bombs.

We had to start swearing much more quietly that day, which was unfortunate. There's nothing like a good, forceful "Fuck" to make yourself feel better.

It would be years later when Hubs would finally admit that he made it all up. No one had complained, but he was afraid people would start to eventually. What a turd.