When I was a kid, I would throw a fit because I didn’t get my way. I’d clench my fists and stomp my feet and bellow, enraged, “when will you stop treating me like a child?!!?”
The reply from my mom was always very matter of fact: “when you stop acting like one.”
Today,I’ve had done pretty tough issues at work. So difficult, in fact, that I reached out to legal counsel for advice. The person I had to work with, though, was so short, and so rude, and basically treated me like an impatient child.
She can’t possibly know what I do on weekends, right?