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I have a new job. I’m a title searcher.

Just one thing has me on edge. Everything else I can shoo away like so many flies by thinking, “I’m new. I’m still learning. It’s okay, people have my back.” One of the other title searchers, afaik she works for a different title search company, has all the hallmarks of being angry. Bright, short, blue hair. Glasses.

I already have issues with women, and I am a gynophobe. I’m terrified she’s going to flip her shit at me some day over some minor offense and turn into Andrea Dworkin.

Of course, I’m sure what I’d consider to be a minor offense is probably a capital crime nowadays in the politically correct year of 2019.

It’s a shame, I don’t want to avoid people but everything about this person says stay away. Just like the bright coloration of poisonous Amazonian frogs.

Chris S.
Anomalist, esperantist, cyclist, typist, dodecaphile, ailurophile, and oneiromancer. Chris lives near the shore with his wife, cats, and the Jersey Devil in his backyard.

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