I work in an office for a
multi-national corporation. This office is populated by a cast of
characters that no television show or film could portray accurately. This is the reason I find no enjoyment in shows or movies set in the
workplace. In no particular order, I will try to describe some of my
coworkers.
* * *
First, there is the woman I
have dubbed Winnie the Pooh. She is a morbidly obese, middle-aged
woman. We work in a building that was constructed around World War
II so there is no elevator to the second floor, where our office
space is located. Winnie the Pooh filed a complaint for the company
to accommodate her obesity by putting in a stair lift (much like the
one from Gremlins) that
would go from flight to flight up the stairs. She refused to come
into work until this was done. The compromise put forth by the
company to get her back to work was to build a desk/office space in
the corner of the first floor conference room so she wouldn't have to
walk up the steps.
Then she filed another
complaint and stopped coming to work because she claimed the stalls
in the first floor women's bathroom were too small and wanted her own
private bathroom. This reminded me of the episode of South Park
when Cartman pretended to be
transgender so the school would have to give him a private bathroom. The compromise this time was that the company would renovate the
bathroom to make the stalls larger by going from three stalls down to
two.
When I
heard this was happening, all I could do was imagine that there was
some sort of Winnie the Pooh incident where she had gotten stuck in
the stall and said, “Oh, bother.” Now, when Winnie the Pooh had
gotten stuck in the doorway to Rabbit's house, Rabbit having to bring
in a general contractor to blow out a wall in his house wasn't part
of the story. Pooh was stuck in the doorway until he lost enough
weight to make his way through. I think if the stuffed bear had a
better lawyer, it would have been a very different story.
* * *
That
brings us to Dorf the Asshole. Dorf the Asshole is the woman I sit
next to for forty hours a week. She is a woman so inconsiderately
annoying that she must workshop material over the weekend to bring in
on Mondays. If there is a noise to make, she will make it. From gum
cracking to whistling to random mouth popping noises. But what she
is most proud of is her singing. I'm not talking about
absentmindedly singing along to a Beatles song when it comes on the
radio. I'm talking about full fledged throat clearing, with purpose,
singing along to today's greatest Christian rock hits. Add to this
the fact that Dorf the Asshole's singing sounds like you had just run
over a box of cats in your driveway.
Dorf
the Asshole is so skilled at being an asshole that if you politely
ask her to not scream “Praise Jesus” at the top of her lungs, you
become the asshole. Show me a better Jedi trick than that.
I am
fairly certain that if I were to exclaim “Hail, Satan!!!” while
listening to Slayer, I would end up having a very interesting meeting
with HR.
* * *
Finally,
there's The Pants Shitter. On her breaks and lunch, this woman goes
out jogging around the block in order to get her 10,000 steps on her
fit bit. This seems like a very positive and healthy thing for a
person to do with their time. The slight downside of this activity
is that she loses control of her bodily functions while out jogging.
I will give you a moment to go back and reread that last sentence...
Yes,
The Pants Shitter does just that while out running around the block
hence the name The Pants Shitter. Now, call me crazy but if I
engaged in any activity that would cause me to shit my pants, I would
think about no longer engaging in that activity after the first time
I shit my pants.
So
I guess I'm crazy because The Pants Shitter shits her pants on a
regular basis. Nor does The Pants Shitter keep a change of clothing
in her car for such incidents. And her day to day wardrobe includes
wearing a denim skirt so there isn't much available to catch the load
that has been jettisoned from the airlock.
As if
this were not horrifying enough, The Pants Shitter is not very
concerned with post pants shitting clean up, bringing the wonderful
aroma of sweat and feces back to the office for all to enjoy. The
most effort she seems to put in is in removing her shit splattered
shoes, placing them on her desk and wiping them down with a dry paper
towel. I feel it is important to point out here that The Pants
Shitter also eats breakfast and lunch at her desk.
When
the ongoing issue of pants shitting was pointed out to management, we
were told that it was a medical issue and there was nothing that
could be done about it. Until the day management came out of its
office and caught a whiff of what The Pants Shitter was cooking. The
Pants Shitter was sent home and a cleaning crew was called in. The
office chair was thrown in the dumpster, the desk was cleaned and the
carpet was scrubbed.
To this
day, The Pants Shitter continues to go out jogging and shitting her
pants. The only thing that's changed is that she now has a doctor's
excuse and gets to go home after shitting her pants which seems to
keep happening earlier and earlier in the day. Go figure.
* * *
This is
why I envy anyone who has had the courage to not enter the 9 to 5
world. From artists, writers, comedians, musicians, actors and the
folks that make the shows happen. I was never brave enough to take
the leap of faith in myself that is required to live life without a
net.
There
is a theory that if you want to live that way, you shouldn't have a
plan B. If plan B exists in your mind, you may as well go that route
to begin with and save yourself the heartbreak of failure.
There
is no greater drive to get something done than “If this doesn't
work out, I have no idea what I'll do.” Otherwise twenty years of
your life will go by and you'll end up working with Winnie the Pooh
and The Pants Shitter, too.
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