My co-worker stepped up his attacks on me and my work. "Why is he [my other co-worker in that department] organized and you're not?" "Don't take on so many rafts. You'll only get confused." "I guess everything I've taught you has gone to hell hasn't it?" He had also taken to talking to me as if I was a simpleton (a huge rage trigger in me).
Sometimes, the only way I was able to cope was to think about stopping on the Knight Street Bridge on my home and jumping into the cold dark solace of the Fraser River. With that said, please bear in mind that Friedrich Nietzsche once said: "The thought of suicide can a great consolation as it can help one get through many a bad day".
Once he said to me "You don't listen to advice, do you?". I explained to him that, I actually do listen to advice. Then I think about it and then weigh out it's merits and act upon it accordingly.
There were only a things that I could do to keep me from feeling utterly helpless. The first was to maintain a wall of angry silence whenever he came at with a barrage of what I doing wrong. I know at the time that this carried a slight risk of becoming a potentially dangerous game. The second was to let his comments go in one ear out the other. And third, was to do the best job I could despite (and/or in spite of) his bullshit.
One day, the rage built up in me to the point where I kicked some object across the warehouse floor. I admit I took some small pleasure in the attention it attracted. After the dust settled, my co-worker took me aside and said "If you ever throw another fit like that again, I'll really get mad". I suppose I should be thankful for small mercies in that he didn't go to tell that I needed to learn "anger management".
A very dear friend of mine once told me that no one can make you feel inferior without your permission. I acquired a greater appreciation of the meaning of that statement. I made a conscious decision to refuse to accept my co-worker's estimation of me as being a hopeless fuck-up. While my already shaky self-confidence had taken another beating, I knew that I was doing a reasonably good job. Perhaps, I made more than my share of screw-ups, but I believe I was getting better bit by bit. In the end, management had no complaints about my work.
End of Part Three