And now I introduce you to...

Awkward Coworker!

He is probably one of the nicer men you'll ever meet, so I feel a little bad for writing this, but...he's just so awkward.

He has a hearing problem. As in he has to wear hearing aids on both ears, all the time. What I'm saying is that he doesn't hear very well.

Because of this, he tends to leave his ringer (on his cell phone) on the loudest possible setting. At all times. Which scares the shit out of me every time it rings. EVERY TIME.

This last week or so, his wife has been in Turkey. And she calls at least five times a day. Since his office is right next to my...workspace (it's hard to call it an office when everyone has to walk through it to get anywhere), I get the pleasure of jumping out of skin at least five times a day.

It is only due to sheer self-control that I have not walked into his office, put my hand in his pants pocket, fished out his phone, thrown it on the ground and jumped up and down on it like a child throwing a temper tantrum.

Also, the ringer is a song from some Irish band. So it's not like it's even catchy. I guess I should be thanking my lucky stars that it's not that Lady Gaga song that makes me want to gouge my own eyes out. Or Nickelback.

The other thing about Awkward Coworker is that he's...well, socially awkward. By this I mean, he often stands in front of my desk, talking to me about things that make no sense to me. With lots of pauses. He often starts somewhere in the middle, as though I might have been present in his head for the first part of the conversation.

"Guess it's a good thing I didn't go out to look at that bridge, because...

...

...

...they didn't tell me they moved the route."

Huh?

My personal favorite is when he says things like (completely out of the blue, mind you), "And that lady was crazy...

...
...
...
...
..."

And then he laughs like he made a joke. But only after 30 full seconds of pause.

He also has just a tiny bit of Tourrette Syndrome.


It wasn't so much a problem when he worked in the back office. We'd occasionally hear a "GODDAMNITSHITMOTHERFUCKER" coming from back there, but for the most part, we were all blissfully ignorant of just how bad it could be.

Heinous Bitch Coworker moved upstairs a few months ago, and SAC followed quickly, so Awkward Coworker moved up to the office in the front. Right across from our boss. Who is kind of a fundie. Not that he won't let a "damn" or a "sonova bitch" slip from time to time, but for the most part, he's a fine, up-standing, churchgoing (sexual harrassing) kinda man.

I can only imagine the look on his face when 85% of the words that leave Awkward Coworkers mouth are "FUCKING SHIT PIECE OF SHIT GODDAMNIT MOTHERFUCKING BITCH BASTARD." Like all day. Everyday.

Poor Awkward Coworker is already pretty unpopular with the boss. He's not a great communicator (neither is the boss man, though), and he can't write (I was assigned the task of editing one of his reports once. I nearly cried. The only thing I wanted to say was, "Start over. And this time use sentences."). He's not exactly the sharpest tack in the shed. But he does the grunt work and the shit no one else wants to do, and he does it without complaint (aside from the cursing).

It's like she read my mind...

SAC? This one's for you:

www.nataliedee.com

If you haven't checked out Natalie Dee's comics, please do so. Now. Or I'll stab you.*


*I probably won't stab you.

Is it just that no one learns to use basic office supplies any more?

I'm 29-years-old. I know. Ancient, right? I remember rotary phones, even.

It's a good age, though, because I've lived through a lot of changes in technology. I can still remember how to dial a rotary phone. I remember what it was like when phones had cords (I got hours of entertainment untangling the cord. Yes, I'm that weird girl). I've used fax machines, printers, copy machines, scanners, staplers, paper clips, rubber bands, paper cutters, and binding machines. I'm proficient at all of them. Hell, I can even use a calculator.

So it puzzles me that, in this office of many other people my age, I'm the only one who can figure out how to unjam the copy machine. I'm the only one who remembers that you have to dial a "1" before the phone number if you're trying to fax something long distance. I'm the only one who can fix a staple jam, use a paper cutter effectively, bind a report, or scan an image. I'm the only one.

Just like Melissa Ethridge. Except I like boys.

At least once everyday, I hear, "Hey Nameless Vagina? Um...I printed something and it didn't print."

Understand that there are many reasons that a document might fail to print. But can you guess the most common one? And, in fact, the reason I find to be accurate about 90% of the time...

"Please ADD PAPER."

But no one even checks. Ever. They just try to print their 50-page document 10 times and then come to me when it doesn't show up in the printer tray.

Every once in a while, the printer gets jammed. Now, I don't know if you know anything about printers (and ours is a printer/scanner/copier/fax), but usually there are instructions for clearing various jams on the printer itself. And yet, no one looks. "Nameless Vagina? The printer is jammed. Help!"

It's like working with a bunch of five-year-olds.

"Nameless Vagina, I can't find any address labels." They're always in the same place.

"Nameless Vagina, how do I scan this?" I've explained this one at least five times...to everyone in the office. Separately.

"Nameless Vagina, my stapler won't staple." Have you thought about putting staples in it?

"Nameless Vagina, these paper clips are stuck together." I can't even respond to this one.

And the list goes on...much like the beat.

Please don't comment about what I'm eating for lunch. I've killed people for less.

I don't know about you, but when I'm eating lunch, I'd like to be left the motherfuck alone. I cursed there to emphasize the point. I italicized to emphasize the cursing. Stay with me.

Here's what I don't need:

SAC or Heinous Bitch coworker (you have yet to be formally inroduced to her): Ooooh, what did you get for lunch, Nameless Vagina?

Me: Mumble mumble whatever mumble.

Coworker: Look everyone! Nameless Vagina has fancy stuff for lunch! Everyone come stare at her while she eats!

Me: Fuck. You. (Said in my head so as not to piss everyone off)

I hate to be stared at while I eat. I don't want to have a ten minute discussion about the barbecue I picked up for lunch (Which will never. Happen. Again.). I don't need you to tell me that my sushi looks amazing (Because, yes, it does. That's why I'm eating it...). I don't actually want to talk to you about my food at all. I just want to eat it. In PEACE.

So now, to avoid this little scenario, I've taken to hiding my food under my desk whenever I hear anyone coming. I feel like a fat girl with a can of frosting. Like Goldie Hawn in Death Becomes Her.

I totally love that movie. Shut up.

Another interesting pattern that seems to have developed in the office is the Everyone crowd around Nameless Vagina's desk while she's trying to eat her lunch extravaganza. WTF?

I'm trying to eat lunch here, people. Typically, this is seen as a break, not as the time in which I'd like to hear you blather on awkwardly about your weekend.

Here's the thing: I don't care. I don't care about your weekend. I don't care about your wife. I don't care about what you got from NetFlix yesterday. I don't care to stare at you armpit hairs while I am eating my lunch. Or any other time for that matter.

Get out of my face. Leave me alone.

Coworker Number One: Super Annoying Coworker

Heretofore, he shall be dubbed SAC (Get it? And I get to call him "sac." It's win-win).

SAC is the most annoying person in the world.

Okay, I haven't met all the people in the world, but he has to rank in the top ten. With Carrot Top and Juliette Lewis.

When I first started working here, I didn't think he was so bad. I didn't like the way he called me "love" or jokingly flirted with me. Because I'm at work, ya'll. I knew he didn't mean any of it as he was (inexplicably) in a happy and committed relationship.

To be fair, I've never met her, so she may be certifiably insane. It's the only logical explanation.

Here's a rundown of my issues with SAC:

1. He has more phlegm than any human being should have.
2. He is the nosiest person I've ever met.
3. He always wants a favor.
4. He still calls me "love"
5. He is incapable of filling his timesheet out correctly.
6. He wears wife-beaters to work.
7. He therefore unnecessarily shows me his nipples and armpit hair.
8. He is an excessive kiss ass.
9. He uses exclamation points all the time!
10. He breathes.

Let me expand on one of these.

He. Has. So. Much. Phlegm. Ugh. I have a physical reaction to his laugh. Not "Ooohhh, it makes me wet." More like "Oh! Those eggs were better the first time!" I'll try to paint you a picture. Well, acoustically speaking.

Let's say you have a bathtub. Or a shower. Probably either will do. And in that bathtub or shower, there's a drain. This is a good thing for a number of reasons, not the least of which being that a flooded bathroom is a pain in the ass to use. This drain is the kind that is molded completely with the bottom of your bathtub or shower, with the little holes in the top for the water to flow down. You know the kind I mean, right? Hang on, let me get you a picture (though I think I painted it beautifully with words).




Like that, see?

Okay, so let's say you decide you need to take a nice hot bath. With a really crusty caveman. While you're in the tub, the caveman will likely shed hair and crust all into the tub. I know, it's gross. Stay with me.

Because you're so disgusted with the caveman's floating hair and crust (which I'm assuming is part dust, part mold, part blood, and part cavewoman sweat), you reach down and unplug the drain. Water flows freely down the drain until the hair and crust start catching on it. It slowly makes its way out of the tub and into the great beyond where tomorrow you will probably drink it unfiltered from a bottle you bought at the 7-11 because everyone knowst that there are almost no restrictions placed on bottled water and it's really no better for you which is why you usually drink tap water, but tomorrow you'll decide you want a bottle of caveman crust, for nostalgia purposes.

Anyway, that moment when the last of the water tries to make its way through the hair and crust on the drain and down into the pipes? It makes this terrible gurgly sucking noise. And that noise? Is what SAC's laugh sounds like. You can feel my pain now, right?

I'm sorry that this has to be my first post, but it's all I have right now before I get all stabby on some bitches.

TURN YOUR FUCKING RINGER OFF AT THE OFFICE. I HATE YOU.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph people. I do NOT care to be scared out of my motherfucking wits every single time you get a phone call. Or a text message. Or an email. By the way, two of those really shouldn't be making much noise at all. Your text messages do not need to have an entire song. I promise.

That was serious.

Not even half of your calls are work related anyway, assholes. Just. Stop. It. NOW.

This is the true story...

Of one awesome girl.

Picked to work in an office.

Full of the stupidest people in town.

Because even though she has done nothing wrong, the universe clearly hates her.

Please send your annoying coworker stories to coworkerssuck@gmail.com. I will publish random stories that amuse me here. Whenever I feel like it. And no, I will not get your coffee.

Go. Fuck. Yourself.