It Does Come Around

Karma.

What goes around comes around.

You hear a lot of people talk about it...Karma'll get you.....My Karma ran over my dogma...but do they really believe it? Do they know when it happens or does it slip in unnoticed and leave it's mark? And is it equal to the good/bad that they did in the first place?

I believe in karma. I believe that what you put out, good energy or negative energy, you'll get back. So, knowing that, do I always try to do the right thing, the good thing, the noble thing? Of course not. I'm human. I snap and curse and get pissed off, and say things I don't mean, and it comes back to me. Sometimes I recognize it, and sometimes I don't.

It's true what they say: Karma is a bitch.

But this isn't about me, it's about someone I work with, or used to work with.

This woman had the moral character of plywood...in that she had no moral character whatsoever. She was nice, I guess, funny, I suppose, friendly, at times, but she was the kind of girl who, as I am apt to say, looked like she'd been rode hard and put away wet. And a personality to boot.

Plus, she was a thief on top of all that. She was caught stealing at work one day, and in an instant she was gone. Word spread like Swine Flu that she'd been caught stealing and was fired. The villagers rejoiced and a new day dawned. The little people came out from beneath their toadstools and sang a song about her demise. Life was good.

The next day she was back. Apparently, the people I work for only require a few tears and an apology for stealing and then you keep your job. Call me crazy, but don't people get arrested for stealing, and this bitc....woman....gets to keep her job? And to make matters worse, she begins to brag that she stole from the company and her repayment consisted of: I'm sorry.

I'm sorry, too.

I'm sorry I stood next to her a few days later when she told a co-worker about her stay-of-execution, and listened to her brag about how she could literally do whatever she wanted and no one would say a word. Then she looked at me, and said, You, too.

Me, too, what?

You could get away with stealing because they love you around here.

And the other co-worker said, They like you so much they'd probably hold the door open for you as you ransacked the place.

I said, Maybe they would, but, see, here's the difference between you and me. I. Would., Not. Steal.

That put a damper on the chat. And for the next few weeks I avoided sticky fingers and her moll like the plague. If they were in a room, I left; if they came into a room, I left. I told my boss that I'd lost the lone iota of respect--that's a joke--for him because he hadn't fired her, but I respected that it was his business, his decision.

Fast forward about three weeks, and Sticky Fingers is a raging bitch about how she needs to leave work. She paces and stomps and sneers, telling anyone and everyone within earshot that she has to go. She ignores a client and walks outside for a cigarette. Finally, a supervisor follows her outside; he's gone about ten seconds before he's back in the building asking me to take care of her client.

She was fired.

Karma. I thought you'd forgotten her.