A few weeks ago some friends and I were at happy hour and the subject of bad office behavior came up, so we began swapping stories. Working in cubicle "farms" is, sadly, sometimes rather accurate. I don't know whether it's a lack of respect for oneself or others, mental illness, or just not giving a good hot damn, but you can bet that in every office/work environment there's that (at least) one person who acts like an animal, and just does shit that makes you go "Ok, really?!"....
Justin brought up his retirement-aged female cube mate who had no qualms taking off her shoes and socks and giving herself a pedicure right at her desk. Yep, she'd bust out the toenail clippers and go to town, pinging those hoof clippings all over, without a care in the world. I'm surprised Justin never lost an eye.
Which brought me to a guy who sits 3 cubes down in my row who twice weekly trims all ten of his huge, thick fingernails, and leaves the trimmings on his desk for an undetermined amount of time. This guy's also a talker and will tell you all of his family's personal business. Over and over and over. You don't even have to ask, just make eye contact. Which I don't.
Tom reminded us all of the elderly gentleman on his team who within his first week of working, tried to pinch Tom's belly as if Tom were his 3 yr old grandson. The old fart almost got his eye blackened. Much to his displeasure, we still tease Tom about nearly being molested at work. But ya know, that's how we roll - one mans traumatic incident is another mans punch line.
I was reminded of a guy my friend Brian used to work with. This guy was so dirty and smelled so bad, Brian would email us daily about Pig Pen's current stench level. His lack of hygiene, combined with his extraordinary incompetence, infuriated Brain almost to the point of murder, which is probably why we all got daily emails - Brian had to diffuse his anger somehow. Mr. Stinky has no idea how close he came to death.
As we were all swapping our stories, howling and commiserating, my friend Jeff chimed in and said he had a story to beat us all. Now, Jeff doesn't work in an office environment, but more of an industrial environment - the company he works for makes display cabinetry for what I call my "shiny stores" like Victoria's Secret, Este Lauder, Ulta, etc.. - so we were curious what tales he had to share. Surely nothing could be worse than what we've experienced, right?
Wrong. Oh so very, very wrong.
Jeff explained that he has a guy at his work who chews tobacco. And? Spits the "juice" on the floor. Spits. It. On. The. Floor!
Oh but wait, there's more! The spitter's work station is carpeted. So it's absorbing all of his tobacco spit!!!
I think we had a moment of stunned silence.
Never again will I complain about hearing the sickening snap of nail clippers at work, or the smell of ass caused by some one heating up sauerkraut in the office microwave. You win, Jeff. You. Win.
Monday, December 9, 2013
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
The UN-Thankful List
I've been enduring a rare bout of writers block lately, so I turned to Facebook to ask my friends for ideas for my next blog. In light of folks creating daily posts of what they're thankful for this month, a pal from high school suggested I draft a list of things I'm NOT thankful for.
Now, I really do have a lot to be thankful for. Especially this year. And I try to let God, the Universe, and the people in my life know every day that I appreciate every kindness, good fortune, blessing, and random cool thing that occurs in my life. But as we all know, you typically can't have a nice bowl of cornflakes without some one pissin' in 'em.
Therefore, in no particular order, are some things I'm UN-thankful for:
People of WalMart - not the website, because I don't care who you are, that shit is funny. Maybe the people IN WalMart is a better way to say that. The glorious collection of unwashed children, rude teenagers, dentally challenged adults, and various ill mannered freaks and miscreants that makes the task of buying toilet paper and trash bags something I have to steel myself for. God bless the camera phone, s'all I'm sayin'.
Traitors - lying, treacherous, dishonorable weasels who use their security clearances and access to classified data and break every oath they took in order to take that data and make it public. Then spinning up the public and the media by telling outright lies about your importance and what you had the ability to do, all under the misguided umbrella of "whistle blowing." I'm talking to you, Edward Snowden. Go. Fuck. Yourself. You delusional, unpatriotic, treasonous, disgusting piece of shit. How dare you. Stay out of my country. Forever. Same to the people who think he's a hero. The real hero's are the people collecting that information and protecting it, and along with it - you.
BWI Trail Cyclists - See my last blog for details. Hate all those fuckers. If you're a BWI Trail cyclist and you're reading this? Yeah, still hate you.
Folks Who Can't Laugh At Themselves - I've been practicing yoga for almost 2 yrs now, and it's fantastic. But here's the thing about yoga: in a nutshell, it's a combination of various strenuous poses/stretches and meditation. Eventually you're going to either relax enough, or move enough, that you're gonna fart. It happens, and frankly I find farts hil-fucking-larious. Twice in the last month two different people let some real trumpet blasters loose. Damn funny shit, I'm tellin' ya! So, I laughed. Alone. Yep, because some folks are (ironically) tight asses, I ended up being the 6 yr old douche bag laughing at some ones embarrassment.Whatever.
Games - not the fun kind like Monoploly or Call of Duty, the shitty kind like lying or being passive/aggressive,. Please, be adult enough to own your feelings and decisions. And respect me enough to tell me, even if you think I won't like it or will be hurt by it. I would rather know the truth and know where we both stand, than make my next move based on a lie, or worse - no answer at all. Because then, the issue for me won't be your feelings or choices, it'll be your bullshit behavior.
Grumpy Cat Memes - Yeah, I'm so over those. But the James Hetfield ones are frickin' awesome!
The Baltimore Ravens - I just.... what the.... I don't.... how in the.... (sigh) M'eh.
So there you have it, things I won't be giving thanks for this Thanksgiving season. Does it sound negative? I guess it kinda does. But as some one recently said to me, you can't appreciate the good unless you go through the bad. Happy Thanksgiving!!
Now, I really do have a lot to be thankful for. Especially this year. And I try to let God, the Universe, and the people in my life know every day that I appreciate every kindness, good fortune, blessing, and random cool thing that occurs in my life. But as we all know, you typically can't have a nice bowl of cornflakes without some one pissin' in 'em.
Therefore, in no particular order, are some things I'm UN-thankful for:
People of WalMart - not the website, because I don't care who you are, that shit is funny. Maybe the people IN WalMart is a better way to say that. The glorious collection of unwashed children, rude teenagers, dentally challenged adults, and various ill mannered freaks and miscreants that makes the task of buying toilet paper and trash bags something I have to steel myself for. God bless the camera phone, s'all I'm sayin'.
Traitors - lying, treacherous, dishonorable weasels who use their security clearances and access to classified data and break every oath they took in order to take that data and make it public. Then spinning up the public and the media by telling outright lies about your importance and what you had the ability to do, all under the misguided umbrella of "whistle blowing." I'm talking to you, Edward Snowden. Go. Fuck. Yourself. You delusional, unpatriotic, treasonous, disgusting piece of shit. How dare you. Stay out of my country. Forever. Same to the people who think he's a hero. The real hero's are the people collecting that information and protecting it, and along with it - you.
BWI Trail Cyclists - See my last blog for details. Hate all those fuckers. If you're a BWI Trail cyclist and you're reading this? Yeah, still hate you.
Folks Who Can't Laugh At Themselves - I've been practicing yoga for almost 2 yrs now, and it's fantastic. But here's the thing about yoga: in a nutshell, it's a combination of various strenuous poses/stretches and meditation. Eventually you're going to either relax enough, or move enough, that you're gonna fart. It happens, and frankly I find farts hil-fucking-larious. Twice in the last month two different people let some real trumpet blasters loose. Damn funny shit, I'm tellin' ya! So, I laughed. Alone. Yep, because some folks are (ironically) tight asses, I ended up being the 6 yr old douche bag laughing at some ones embarrassment.Whatever.
Games - not the fun kind like Monoploly or Call of Duty, the shitty kind like lying or being passive/aggressive,. Please, be adult enough to own your feelings and decisions. And respect me enough to tell me, even if you think I won't like it or will be hurt by it. I would rather know the truth and know where we both stand, than make my next move based on a lie, or worse - no answer at all. Because then, the issue for me won't be your feelings or choices, it'll be your bullshit behavior.
Grumpy Cat Memes - Yeah, I'm so over those. But the James Hetfield ones are frickin' awesome!
The Baltimore Ravens - I just.... what the.... I don't.... how in the.... (sigh) M'eh.
So there you have it, things I won't be giving thanks for this Thanksgiving season. Does it sound negative? I guess it kinda does. But as some one recently said to me, you can't appreciate the good unless you go through the bad. Happy Thanksgiving!!
Thursday, October 3, 2013
Walk This Way: An Open Letter to the BWI Trail
As many of you know, I had spinal fusion surgery in early March this year. As a part of my road to healing, I was told that the best thing to do was to walk. This was pressed upon me by the surgeon, the physicians assistant, all my physical therapists, nurses, basically every medical professional I came in contact with. Which, really, at that point walking was not a hardship - I spent the previous 18 months nearly unable to walk, so being able to do so without excruciating pain was a joy. So walk, I did.
Once I was cleared to drive again, my path of choice was the BWI Trail. I've racked up a lot of miles on that trail. The following are a few open letter of sorts to the trail. If the trail could read. Or was, you know, human. Whatever.
Dear BWI Trail,
Thank you for your abundant and gorgeously scented honeysuckle, your wild blueberries, the shade trees when temps are high, the random turtle sightings, numerous butterflies, red cardinals, and the pair of yellow finches that followed me for a bit one day as if I were Snow White. It's so lovely. Nature rules!
Dear BWI Trail,
Nature sucks! What is with that one damn tree that drops a shit ton of mystery berries on a 10 foot section of the trail? You know what happens? Jelly happens! I feel like freakin' Lucy stopping some damn grapes! And fuck you, with the gnats, dead mice, and poison ivy.
Deal BWI Trail,
Please tell your cyclists that you are not a route on Tour de France, and that they're all just suburban douche bags on expensive bikes from Bike Doctor. Lance Armstrong isn't scouting you for a new team with which to make a come back. "Breaking Away" isn't getting remade. Calm the hell down.
Dear BWI Trail,
I'm gonna need 3/4 naked guy to be at least 2/3 clothed. It freaks me out. I'm rounding a corner and suddenly he's there, in little else but his helmet and black bikini bottoms, sitting a top his weird ass high seated bike. What IS that bike, anyway? Please, make it stop.
Also, please ask the workers in random trucks to stop cat calling me along Andover Rd. and Aviation Blvd. I know my ass is sweet (hello - all the walking!), but that's no way to let a lady know that. (but thank you, though, hehe).
Dear BWI Trail,
Thank you for being there. You have helped me heal and become stronger. I;m grateful to walk again, and for the scenery and smooth inclines you provided as I worked my way back to healthy. Despite the stupid berries, the egomaniac cyclists, and weird naked guy, you'll always be my boo.
Once I was cleared to drive again, my path of choice was the BWI Trail. I've racked up a lot of miles on that trail. The following are a few open letter of sorts to the trail. If the trail could read. Or was, you know, human. Whatever.
Dear BWI Trail,
Thank you for your abundant and gorgeously scented honeysuckle, your wild blueberries, the shade trees when temps are high, the random turtle sightings, numerous butterflies, red cardinals, and the pair of yellow finches that followed me for a bit one day as if I were Snow White. It's so lovely. Nature rules!
Dear BWI Trail,
Nature sucks! What is with that one damn tree that drops a shit ton of mystery berries on a 10 foot section of the trail? You know what happens? Jelly happens! I feel like freakin' Lucy stopping some damn grapes! And fuck you, with the gnats, dead mice, and poison ivy.
Deal BWI Trail,
Please tell your cyclists that you are not a route on Tour de France, and that they're all just suburban douche bags on expensive bikes from Bike Doctor. Lance Armstrong isn't scouting you for a new team with which to make a come back. "Breaking Away" isn't getting remade. Calm the hell down.
Dear BWI Trail,
I'm gonna need 3/4 naked guy to be at least 2/3 clothed. It freaks me out. I'm rounding a corner and suddenly he's there, in little else but his helmet and black bikini bottoms, sitting a top his weird ass high seated bike. What IS that bike, anyway? Please, make it stop.
Also, please ask the workers in random trucks to stop cat calling me along Andover Rd. and Aviation Blvd. I know my ass is sweet (hello - all the walking!), but that's no way to let a lady know that. (but thank you, though, hehe).
Dear BWI Trail,
Thank you for being there. You have helped me heal and become stronger. I;m grateful to walk again, and for the scenery and smooth inclines you provided as I worked my way back to healthy. Despite the stupid berries, the egomaniac cyclists, and weird naked guy, you'll always be my boo.
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