#murderbird

This is the story of my woke-ass coworker, Rick. Rick is liberal (for Oklahoma) and very proud of it. But the last few days he has been misgendering me.

Rick: [Talking about me in front of me] She just really likes to--

Me: He.

Rick: What?

Me: You said she.

Rick: I’m so sorry.

Not yet, Murderbird. I got this. Everybody makes mistakes. I misgender myself sometimes, too.

Me: It’s okay. No big deal.

--

It happens again that day, and after I correct him, he has this tragic look on his face.

Rick: [Stepping close to me] I’m better than this.

Hold off, Murderbird.

Me: It’s okay.

--

The next day it happens again, and I’m thinking, Bro (he always says bro. He’s a bro-liberal), just stop talking about me in the third person, and this won’t keep happening.

Me: He. My pronouns are he/him.

Not yet, Murderbird. I can handle this. I can. I can’t afford to murder someone at work. This time he says:

Rick: I’m sorry. I corrected someone else a few days ago, and somehow I got mixed up.

I guess he expected a medal? Or a high-five? Like I should be so grateful he was correcting other people that I’d like his shit slide.

I didn’t murder him. I did throw a wadded up piece of paper at him. He laughed but looked suitably chastised.

--

But y’all, it happened again that SAME day.

Rick: She blah blah blah.

And there was no hiding it. No holding back. Murderbird was here.

I smacked Rick (light-ishly) with my notebook and said,

Me: You suck so bad right now. [strained laughter and an eye twitch]

It. Felt. So. Good.

Until he started moping, and I had to comfort him.

Rick: I’m just so disappointed in myself.