Unbearable smugness

God I put up with some unbearable smugness in my life: Exs who think they're better than me, editors who... well it does matter, we all know which unbearable bitch I'm talking about.
But this takes the biscuit. So I'm doing something about it.
Dear Impersonal Medling, reporter, ABC.
We used to work together, do you remember? We were equal-ranked reporters for sister papers. We used to get along okay, despite your self-obsessiveness.
Then I happened to make a crack which hit too close to the bone and you became angry at me. You couldn't do so openly because it would be too hard to explain to people. I had, afterall, pointed out that you were spending a hell of a lot of time with someone who wasn't your husband. I won't delve too far into the 'lady doth protest too much' reaction to my joke. We both know the truth anyway.
Then I drunkenly told someone, who you were being sent to work under, that you would be hard to manage. Turns out I was quite right on that front, too, but that's neither here nor there. What it DID was give you a reason to hate you openly. A decent reason for me to dislike your informant - the balding gargantua.
Neither of us work at that organisation any more so it made sense that we might eventually rock up at the same press conference - me for the daily paper and you for the sadly-no-longer-credible-I-meant-just-have-a-look-at-who-they're-employing-these-days-ABC. So when it happened a couple of weeks ago and we were both covering the same story and we pretended to be nice to one another, it was almost a relief. It had happened.
I found it hilarious to that night see myself on TV, in the background of your poorly structured story. Certainly confirmed for the bosses I had indeed attended the event they had asked me too. Did I care? Not beyond thinking it was funny that someone who hates me so much couldn't manage to edit me - a bystander - OUT of her first ever TV news bulletin.
So when a wonderful friend passed on to me that you said you'd deliberately put me on TV, a whole list of reactions were experienced:
a) Er, sure... bet you didn't even notice me you cloth-eared bitch.
b) Bet it still bugs the shit out of you that I was in frame
c) How sad is your life that, if you did that deliberately, you think that I care
d) How on Earth would that in anyway affect me? Am I supposed to be upset or excited or something?
e) You say you "got me on TV"? Darling, I've done plenty of TV and have no ambition to do any more... so what is your point?
f) You're a sad fuck who can't move on.
I know it may seem like I can't move on either, seeing as I'm blogging about you, but the unbearable smugness of your statement just reconfirmed so much of what I think of you. And I wanted to tell you. And I figured writing here meant there was a slight chance you might see it, because you're clearly obsessed enough to visit occasionally.
So I offer this advice to you: Let it go.
Dan