I Do Not Like Bullies

(And I like a lot of things. Even Waffle House coffee. But I do not like bullies.)

You know the type. Loud, overconfident, emotionally undercooked, and always trying to compensate for something small—like empathy, intelligence, or… well, you know.

They come in all forms:
• People
• Companies
• HOA Board Members
• Political parties pretending they’re only in it “for the people”
• Entire nations with daddy issues and too many missiles

What do they all have in common? They punch down.
Never up. Never sideways. Always down.
Because that’s where they feel safest—stepping on someone who can’t (or won’t) fight back.

My Favorite Kind?

The One Dumb Enough to Do It in Person.

Most bullies these days hide behind email chains, corporate jargon, or carefully curated LinkedIn profiles.
But every now and then, one of ‘em gets brave and thinks they want a face-to-face.

That’s my favorite. Why?
Because that’s the kind I grew up with.
And unlike my hairline, my memory is still intact.

I was a “husky” kid.
If you don’t know what that means, good.
And if you do, then you know that label was Sears-speak for:
“Here’s some new denim along with a lifelong body image issue.”

I learned early how to deal with confrontation.
Not from a TED Talk.
Not from a therapist.
From a kid named Kenny, who shoved me off the monkey bars in third grade.
I got up, dusted off, and shoved him back—right onto his fat butt.
He cried. I didn’t.

That’s the day I learned bullies fold faster than cafeteria napkins when someone actually calls their bluff.

“Bullies Are Basically Toddlers in Big Boy Pants”

Here’s the truth nobody puts on a motivational mug:
Bullies aren’t tough. They’re terrified.

Terrified you’ll see through their act.
Terrified someone might not back down.
Terrified their bluff might get called by someone who’s had enough caffeine, therapy, or unresolved rage to stand tall and say, “Not today, Satan.”

You stand your ground? You don’t flinch?
They short-circuit.
It’s beautiful.
Like watching a cat try to act cool after falling off a windowsill.

Behind every bully is a sad little creature who never developed actual coping skills.
Just anger. Ego. And a gym selfie they think substitutes for a personality.

And don’t even get me started on the corporate variety—
The ones wearing branded quarter-zips in Zoom calls while laying off entire departments and calling it a “strategic pivot.”

They hide behind buzzwords like “synergy,” “efficiency,” or “conflict resolution”—
which is corporate code for a slow-motion shove out the door, with benefits ending Friday.

Here’s the Uptake, Sugar:

Do. Not. Back. Down.
Not from your boss.
Not from your HOA.
Not from your spineless cousin Kevin who “accidentally” insults you at every family gathering.
And definitely not from some corporate meathead who uses the phrase “per my last email” like it’s a threat.

Bullies only win when we roll over and let them.

Stand tall.
Speak loud.
Take up space.
Do not shrink.

And when you see that bully?
Be the mirror that doesn’t lie—
The one that shows every wrinkle, every insecurity, and every weak bluff in brutal, fluorescent lighting.

Let them see it all.
Because silence doesn’t just let bullies win—
It clears their path and locks the exits.

I don’t know about you, but I’m fresh outta patience for their bullshit.

This message is brought to you by people who have no problem calling out nonsense with a smile and a side-eye.