Bulldogs
My father used to call it fighting with the bulldogs. Political rivalries with the other employees—particularly the male ones. The bulldogs. Fighting over territory, credit, power, control, promotion—you name it—the whole corporate nightmare in the office. Dad loved the technical part of his profession: mechanical engineering, but the societal part—hell incarnated. I was the same way back when I worked as a contractor going from once assignment to the next in that swamp incorporated. Watch out for the back stabbing and dirty tricks they'd play. So glad I'm out of that soup. Retired. I barely squeaked by with my share of conflict crap and unpleasant memories. Makes you realize the world is filled with assholes—the creme de la creme of sick individuals and the higher up the ladder the sicker and the bigger the bulldogs they are.
