In the twenty minutes I saw earlier (I plan to get back to work in a moment, but I got distracted by a very long bath), she certainly seemed like an ass: first accusing Marcel of "snapping at her" when he plainly didn't, then bad-mouthing him to the judges, and then, after she's kicked off, going on and on about how blessed she is as death rays shot out of her eyes. I'm glad I won't be seeing more of her.
When I was seventeen (claiming to be eighteen), I worked as the assistant cook at a little hotel in Maine. The head cook was twenty-two, one of the two waitresses was twenty-four, and the other was nineteen. Over the course of the summer, I became the victim of the two older girls, with the third--my roommate--being pleasant enough to me in private but joining in with the others when they were around.* It's the one and only time I've been the butt of serious bullying and remains one of the most utterly miserable, soul-sapping experiences of my life. If that's the kind of shit Marcel had to face, I'm behind him all the way.
*I'm pleased to say that, at the end of the summer, when the two villains decided to recast me as the golden child and turn on her instead, I did not go along with their poisonous game. My roommate, who was utterly bewildered by the turnaround, at least had the decency to apologize to me for her behavior, although she did use the poor excuse "I didn't realize how awful we were being."
