aarrgghh
James, what a dickhead.
I thought that after the play ended he'd go back to being a normal person again, ie not completely stressed and not taking that stress out on me. Apparently not! He was never stressed at all, he's just a wanker.
The matter being, I've had a congratulatory letter about the play sitting on my desk for a few days praising both me and the actors, which I've been meaning to get photocopied but haven't had the time. Instead I spoke to the people addressed directly and told the rest that we had received some very high praise for our work. And today James sends me this text message: "It would be nice if you could share the letter with the rest of us who put in all the hard work". As if a.) I was secretly hoarding the praise and b.) none of the hard work was done by me.
I could kill him. He's been like this for ages, suggesting I'm incompetent and pathetic, that neither he nor anyone else respect me or the work I've done for the play, and that the fact that the play was so good wasn't my doing at all. I put it to one side as he is (was) my best friend but he's really pushed the boat out this time. I could literally kill him.
If this was all he'd said it would be completely different, but he made me feel like shit the whole time the play was getting serious, right when I needed to be clear-headed and calm. As if he couldn't stand the thought of anybody being relaxed when he was so stressed, because he took it upon himself to be producer AND lighting designer AND tech manager when he knows he should have delegated. Those last few days, when the play was live, should have been the best few days of my life but in the end they were crap, I was trying so hard to avoid him and was constantly close to tears.
I will never, ever forgive him. Nor will I speak to him again if I can help it.
I thought that after the play ended he'd go back to being a normal person again, ie not completely stressed and not taking that stress out on me. Apparently not! He was never stressed at all, he's just a wanker.
The matter being, I've had a congratulatory letter about the play sitting on my desk for a few days praising both me and the actors, which I've been meaning to get photocopied but haven't had the time. Instead I spoke to the people addressed directly and told the rest that we had received some very high praise for our work. And today James sends me this text message: "It would be nice if you could share the letter with the rest of us who put in all the hard work". As if a.) I was secretly hoarding the praise and b.) none of the hard work was done by me.
I could kill him. He's been like this for ages, suggesting I'm incompetent and pathetic, that neither he nor anyone else respect me or the work I've done for the play, and that the fact that the play was so good wasn't my doing at all. I put it to one side as he is (was) my best friend but he's really pushed the boat out this time. I could literally kill him.
If this was all he'd said it would be completely different, but he made me feel like shit the whole time the play was getting serious, right when I needed to be clear-headed and calm. As if he couldn't stand the thought of anybody being relaxed when he was so stressed, because he took it upon himself to be producer AND lighting designer AND tech manager when he knows he should have delegated. Those last few days, when the play was live, should have been the best few days of my life but in the end they were crap, I was trying so hard to avoid him and was constantly close to tears.
I will never, ever forgive him. Nor will I speak to him again if I can help it.