It has been decided I need to either a) Get a hobby b) Get a boyfriend c) Get a life. C is the best bet but it’s not going to happen in the foreseeable future. Does everyone remember the scene at the beginning of Sherlock Holmes when he is in the fighting ring and everyone is going in slow motion and he plans out his plan of attack and everything and you hear his narration of what he’s doing?
This is what it’s like for me in traffic. Every. Single. Day. And today I beat my record of how long it takes me to and home from work. I am soooo proud. I’m sure no one cares but I need to share my accomplishments with the world. It goes something like so… large gap between semi and red truck approximately 25 feet long, semi traveling at approximately 45 miles per hour red truck traveling at approximately 43 miles per hour, must go 47 miles per hour and begin to break halfway between lane transition. I’m telling you, weaving in and out of traffic really is a skilled trade and it works so far, until I wreck and die.
But when I did get to work today I was faced with another demon, Cigarello. No not those fake cigarettes women smoke, I’m talking about the old man who sits in the glorified cube next to mine, that will hereinafter be referred to as a glory hole. I call him Cigarello because him and his glory hole smells like old cigarettes and when he comes over into my glory hole he brings his stink with him.
When I first started I thought Cigarello was weird because he’s old, a close talker, takes weird breaks between thoughts and sentences when he’s trying to explain something, and looks something like a crazy professor/uncle someone might have that’ could be a borderline schizophrenic pedifile.
Then I hit a phase when I came back to work after my bout with the plague where I thought he really meant well and I should give him a second chance because I was just thankful to be alive. Now, I’m to the point where he’s just plain annoying and I look forward to 4 o’clock when he leaves and I can have an hour of solitude before going home to Sportscenter live in my living room.
So the other day I heard my boss whining about how my desk is so clean and how I’m just sitting there with my thumb up my ass all day while everyone else’s hair is falling out at the thought of lifting a finger. I had bring it to her attention that I get my work done quickly because I don’t have children. She has kids, so of course she didn’t get it. Ol’ Cigarello over here spends half his day filling out his kid’s financial aid paperwork and the other half on the phone with his kid making appointments to drive 3 hours to his college so he can meet with the dean to see what the kid did wrong this time.
It’s not annoying to me that Cigarello doesn’t actually do any real work because that’s his problem, what’s annoying to me is that he accuses me of partying sooooo hard all weekend every Monday morning, comes into my glory hole while I’m eating my lunch to make a stupid comment/ask me if I missed him while he was outside having a cigarette/breathe his cigarette breath within a 10 foot radius of my lunch, and interrupts my conversations with others about work to make a stupid comment. You’ve heard it right, Cigarello is my Fatso.
This morning I honestly thought he was going to get fired, I hoped and prayed. Technically we’re accountants, and for some reason because we’re accountants the company that I work for believes we hold the highest ethical standards and gives us access to change things like account numbers, signers on accounts, and funds within the accounts. So when people who are related to these said accounts actually does need something changed and presents us with the necessary paperwork to do so, it becomes our top priority to be their bitch and get it done. So imagine my amazement when I hear him cussing someone out on the phone and then hang up on them and say, “DON’T FUCKING CALL ME 15 TIMES A DAY!” I thought punishment would be had.
But I was wrong. Him cussing people out/getting a ‘tude is becoming a daily thing. Not only with people who call but with other co-workers as well. I’m all about a good screaming match but it’s really no fun to be sitting the next glory hole over when I can only hear his side of it.
None the less today he’s going to repeatedly say, “Do you know what today is? and when I say “Friday,” he’s going to say, “All Day.” I guess I should embrace people’s quirks, but I just feel like I’m not so desperate that I need to be bff’s with a 65 year old man just yet.
Hey, today is Friday all day, so be effing happy about it and akright.