There's Always One, Isn't There?

What is it about some human beings, that sees them without a shred of self-awareness? The social work professions doesn't usually attract such people. However, there is always the exception. This lady, let's call her Pauline, was a middle-aged, experienced social worker. You would have thought, therefore, that she would be someone to whom an inexperienced professional, such as myself, could go to to receive advice. Not a bit of it.
I hadn't been in my new job long before I realised that Pauline had zilch people skills and a propensity to talk several decibels above everyone else. Her actions ranged from demanding you speak to her, even when on the phone, butting in on conversations and hijacking meetings with her considerable, but no less annoying, verbal skills.
A memo came round one day stating that people weren't switching off the overhead lights above their desks, before leaving the office. For some reason, which defeated me and everyone else in the team, Pauline decided she should be the self-appointed, Light Monitor in our office.
Now, being a busy person, as I was, the last thing I used to think about before flying off here and there was my desk light. Pauline reminded me several times to switch it off. When I remembered, I complied. When I didn't, however, she got more and more prickly.
Her prickliness grew and grew until one morning, I got to my desk and reached up to pull my light-string, (to engage the light) only to find that Pauline had tied it in a bow too far to me to reach. I had to stand on my desk to unravel it.
"Let that be a lesson, to you," Pauline said, with a self-satisfied expression.
This carried on and on until I got fed-up and decided to take action.
The following morning, I got in early; much earlier than Pauline. I took out the scissors from my desk, stood on Pauline's and cut her light string off as far as I could reach. When she came in, and saw what had happened, I could feel her eyes, like flick-knives, sticking into my back. Without proof, however, she knew she could do nothing.
I can't begin to tell you how satisfied I felt, when hearing her get on the phone to the caretaker, and tell him she had no way of putting her desk light on!