This week at work and why it's pointless to get mad at my boss

So I'm running out of things to say: Blog entries tend to dry up when your heart isn't broken. Odd that. And so my guess is that for a while blog entries will be few and far between. I could bitch about work but since I blog/write/copywrite for a living, it would be ridiculously unprofessional of me right?
Hmm.

So this week my boss was being a tool and he sent me this instant chat message.**

Boss: "Your listing was not good. [Rival website's] listing was much more attractive. Don't you agree?"

Well that was the world's most passive aggressive way to invite me to step on my own work. You know I am not going to step on my own work unless I feel there actually is something wrong with it. So I blithely replied.

M: If you feel so.

I am a child. I know.

So I took a deep breath and went home.

The next day, I came into another instant chat message.

Boss: You just copied that listing! Where is the box photo?? None of this is good enough!

And now I was mad, it's one thing to imply that my writing is unattractive and another thing altogether to say that I'm plagiarising.

So I sat down and I typed him a 1000 word essay calling him out on his tooliness

• Why writing is subjective and why you should have an actual reason for calling it unattractive.
• If you think my listing is unattractive, you better point out concrete reasoning so I can fix it
• How I didn't copy anything
• How I'm expected to know to psychic-ly provide a box photo with no prior precedence

and twenty minutes later I was done and sent it. All that rage and energy poured into it. I was exhausted.

And then a day later. A reply.

B: No worries, I just follow my own style.

What the feck does that mean??? That's not even a reply! That's a non sequitur!
Seriously my boss is just a waste of energy. Like literally a waste of energy. I wonder if I should have spent that twenty minutes and 75 extra wrinkles on doing something useful. Like frantically licking an ice cream or something.

I guess the point is: Save your wrinkles and time on dessert. Punch a pillow. Kick a football. I know I'm going to go clothes shopping the next time he pisses me off. Screw the reasoning thing.

And here's a joke to cap off the night

Q: How many writers does it take to change a lightbulb?
A: I'M NOT CHANGING ANYTHING.

**He's never at the office until 5 at night so we communicate mostly by IM. The chances of me yelling at him for a thousand word time period is very minimal.