A Stunning Display of Priorities

Because as everyone knows, adults with day jobs are so above being stupid about anything.

"Are you a pro, or an anti?"


I am a tax-paying adult woman with a job who doesn't have time for such silly things. I'm above petty fandom arguments. :) Nice try.


Brenda hit Post, logged out of Twitter, and closed her laptop with a smile. A smile which disappeared when she looked around the break room and remembered she still had a lot of cleaning up to do. Especially the floor, otherwise the blood from Kevin's nose would leave a nasty stain.


She didn't regret it, though. If Kevin didn't want his nose broken, he should have kept his mouth shut about the Dodgers. She'd been tired of bitter Yankees fans complaining since they lost in 2024, and she was even more tired of it now that baseball season was in full swing and people were already threatening to boycott the World Series if they didn't place.


As she waited for the Clorox to set, Brenda picked up the fallen K-cups and tea bags that had been knocked over in the scuffle, arranging them accordingly (by brand, decaf in the middle of the rack, tea organized by blend). She grabbed a paper towel and wiped up the spills by the water cooler, straightening up the stack of plastic cups that thankfully hadn't fallen over, only been knocked a bit to one side.


Her supervisor was going to give her an earful for this, she knew it. This wasn't the first time she and Kevin had come to blows over baseball (or any other sport, she still couldn't forgive his snotty remarks about the UK during the World Cup). She was trying, she really was, but it wasn't her fault Kevin was a sore loser. Or a sore winner. Or just an idiot with bad taste in sports teams.


And really, was it so bad to ask that her co-workers back her up? She knew Morty was a Dodgers fan, and Linda had no love for any New York teams thanks to her parents. But no, they'd just sat there pretending the conversation had nothing to do with them. She'd have at least expected Morty to say something, anything, when Kevin called Dave Roberts a "crap manager".


And to say nothing of Cissy, who was as big a Yankees fan as Kevin but oh so conveniently had to step out and take a call from her kid's school. Something about her kid forgetting his lunch money or getting caught throwing water balloons from the roof.


"Cowards, all of them."


Once she'd set right the chairs they'd knocked over, she checked on the stain. Wiping up the bleach with a second paper towel, she sighed with relief when she saw the tile was spotless. After one last spot check to make sure everything was back in place, she opened a window and turned on the air purifier. She had five minutes before it was time to go back to her station, so she checked her laptop.


More messages demanding to know where she stood about a stupid Star Wars romance.


"People are so immature. Does it really matter who that girl ends up with? Just write your stupid fanfics and leave the rest of us out of it," she muttered. Didn't people have anything better to do with their time?