Boss, Origami, Handicap Bathroom, Pet Peeve, The Office

I probably have one of the coolest bosses in the world. She only works three days a week, she stays out of my hair, and just yesterday she had a dentist appointment in the afternoon, which lead her to give me the green light to go home whenever I wanted to. That is why if you e-mailed me yesterday after 3:00, I didn’t read it until this morning.

Anyway, for all of her positive qualities, there is one that has been rearing its ugly head lately: the noon conference call.

I generally like to take lunch around noon because it’s right around this point where that bowl of cereal I ate in the morning is in desperate need of some company. It lets me know this by rumbling around in my belly and screaming, “Hey, jerkface! Bring me some company!” As you can see, I take my noon time lunch very, very seriously.

Over the past two weeks, I’ve been invited into her office right around 11:58 and asked to lend my expertise on various issues. The first time this happened, not only did I have to eat, but nature was calling me in a matter that on any other day would’ve raised the Terror Alert Level to a solid Orange. The second time this happened, I had already brought back my lunch to my office (two slices of pizza from Vincenza’s) when I got the call from the bullpen.

Listen, boss. You’re great. You really are. Just leave my lunchtime alone. Please. That’s all I ask.
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Some guy was in the one of the stalls of the bathroom the other day and he was rustling so much goddamn paper I thought he was practicing his origami skills. This wasn’t newspaper rustling, but more along the lines of toilet paper/seat liner rustling. It was actually quite impressive and I wanted to hang around just to see if he’d hand me a paper crane or something.

But instead of being creepy, I decided to leave and actually go back to work. But before I did, I heard his walkie talkie go off, which means he was either a.) a security guard of b.) a maintenance man. Now, there are 35 goddamn floors in this building and you choose mine to drop a duke? Really? Come on, guys, you have keys to every floor in this building. Go up to the executive floor and drop a fudge monkey in one of their toilets. I’m sure they’re like gold plated thrones up there. Is that so much to ask? Is it?

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I’m not sure why I’m sticking with the bathroom thing, but we have a single person handicapped bathroom on our floor. I’ve never used it, but I’ve always wanted to. The bathroom is probably bigger than my office and the lighting is amazing. I just get worried that I’m going to come out of there one day and see someone in a wheelchair impatiently tapping his foot. Oh wait, he wouldn’t be able to tap his foot.

Anyway, I’m sure he’d give me a dirty look and that’s some karma that I don’t need to be dragging around.

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One of my biggest pet peeves is when people are so fucking clueless that they have no idea that their idiocy is affecting other people - mainly myself.

I was standing in line to get a sandwich at the cafeteria today behind two guys. The first guy took about a half an hour to figure out what kind of cheese he wanted on his sandwich.

Let’s see… Swiss?
Nah.
American?
Hey, I like America. No. I had American yesterday. I wonder if they have Muenster.
Probably not.
Hmm… What should I get?
American?
No, silly, you had it yesterday, remember?
Oh yeah. Thanks for reminding me.
You got it.

I wanted to scream at him to hurry the fuck up but he was bigger than me and wearing a maintenance man outfit, so I decided against it. If I do see him in the bathroom later today, well, then I really might lose it.

The second guy in line kept typing out an e-mail on his Blackberry while the sandwich girl kept asking what he wanted on his sandwich.

Sandwich Girl: What’ll you have?
Douchebag: (Typing: Hey brah, I totally nailed this skank last night! LOL!) What?
SG: What. Kind. Of. Sandwich. Do. You. Want?
DB: (Typing: Seriously, she was so effing hot that I wore two condoms so I wouldn’t bust too early! LMAO!) Huh? Oh, turkey on white.
SG: Anything else on it?
DB: (Typing: I say after work we hit up a happy hour and find some more skanks. Preferably some from Parma.) Gimme lettuce, tomato and onions.
SG: Any cheese?
DB: (Typing: Don’t wear your red Yankees hat either. I’m wearing it tonight. You can have it tomorrow.) What?
SG: Cheese?
DB: (Typing: I think this sandwich chick likes me!) Sure. Uhh… Let’s see. What kind of cheese do I want?

At this point, I was stabbing myself in the eye with a plastic fork. The bleeding has mostly stopped, but thank you for your concern.

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If you aren’t watching “The Office” this season, please do so. It is by far the funniest show on TV. Just do it. Please. If they cancel it like they did “Arrested Development” I’m going to fucking lose it.

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Yeah, my posts sucked this week. Sorry about that. But there are like 3 of you who read this, so whatever.

Have a good weekend.