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There is a woman at my work who has three children between the ages of four and twelve. She resents the father of these children, referring to him with a scowl as “baby daddy” who she describes as unintelligent and clumsily manipulative. She and I commiserate about the abusive men in our lives and find many similarities between our respective grievances. Despite her disdain toward her baby daddy, she nevertheless remains attached to him, having recently come into work at the warehouse wearing makeup and revealing that she had spent the night with him. I find it interesting that she’s remained invested in this relationship for at least the last twelve years despite regularly denigrating his character and complaining about his behaviors.
Last week she revealed that her kids were scared of her with what sounded to me like pride. “I told them that I will kill them if they don’t do what I say,” she reported with a smirk. I was horrified but not very surprised; she is a mean and aggressive person who assigns rude nicknames to her coworkers and cackles like a witch. “That’s so sad,” I replied. “Your kids shouldn’t be afraid of yo — ” She spit a reply before I could finish my sentence, “Yes they should be!” I silently did not disagree, but continued advocating for her children by shaking my head in disapproval. “Research shows that it’s much more effective to take away…
