I'm sure you heard the expression: bad to the bone like-'she's/he's bad to the bone'. I remember listening to George Thorogood's song-Bad To The Bone back in 1982. I really like the song and the beat. I reflect on someone's core when I write this. Perhaps a 'bad bone' is passed down through the genetic line-an unsolicited gift from past generations. A little something within a person. Someone or even you uncover it as you experience life or engage in a relationship. Perhaps you've come across a bad bone in a company or affiliation. There is something deeply rooted. Embedded within. On the surface, it may even appear to be a quality characteristic trait. One you can depend on most of the time. And then; the eruption. The volcanic-like spewing of the bone particles enters the atmosphere. A contaminant. A dirty cloud of energy.
The law of conservation states energy cannot be created nor destroyed but, is converted from one form to another. You make an attempt to ignore the painful argument or poor customer service which results in the aftermath of the explosion. You know there is a 'thing'. A bad bone in them. You look at their face exchanging a series of eyeball statements. The muscles tighten around the neck and shoulders. You can feel the tension surge. Or, if by technological communications you read or hear the backlash. The sting. The negativity. The hurt. The damage is done. You have choices.
I had a State job and worked in the administration building of the sprawling grounds; a juvenile detention center. I was about 21 years old. The population consisted of both boys and girls. Their crimes ranged from truancy to murder. The administrator's secretary-Esther-was one of those people that took her role rather seriously. Too seriously. She was in her 40's or 50's with charcoal grey short hair. Her face displayed a mean, menacing look when she got angry. She took on every situation, every person who entered the building, and lashed out when someone displeased her. She was not my supervisor. One day, I was about 3 minutes late from lunch. I had to pass by her office to get to mine which was in the Social Workers office. Before I could plant my butt in the seat, Esther came storming in with that look. I practically fell on my chair-partly out of fear. I looked up into her eyes and they had turned from blue to grey. Her brow furrowed. Her lips a tight, thin line. Her arms flailing about as she interrogated me about why I was late. I looked at her and told her she was not my boss and my boss was aware. She stomped her foot on the brown vinyl tiled floor and made a loud 'huffing' noise as she walked out in haste.
Of course, I told my supervisor when she arrived. My boss had a closed door meeting with Esther's boss. Esther's niece also worked in the office with me and we told her what happened. Her niece said she was the same way at home and at holiday functions. The whole family avoided Aunt Esther as much as they could. Sounded like Esther's mother was pretty much the same. The bone had been passed down to Esther from the generation before her and perhaps from many generations. I dealt with the aftermath of her eruption and practically tip-toed past her office trying to avoid any further contact. I didn't look at her. I was embarrassed for her-a grown, older woman behaving that way. The negative energy in that building and the campus were a bit too much for a young lady finding her way in the employment sector. I eventually got another job. This was my choice-the only choice at the time. I removed myself from a toxic situation. She will remain a distant memory.
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