Work continues to be nothing short of a disaster. Obviously it would be in my best interests to not discuss work, but I’ve already put my two alternatives on to the scales of justice:
Keeping my job and behaving on the blog vs. entertaining you with these priceless gems.
Your entertainment won. You’re welcome.
The Vortex, as my place of employment is now called, will hopefully not win the battle for the takeover of my soul. I don’t even try to go out to lunch anymore. The one day I want to leave on time for a class at the gym, it’s nothing short of a battle to get the hell out of there. And by battle, I mean, some asshole is always showing up as I’m shutting down my computer to ask for something they had all day to ask for.
I’ve created this handy situational/statement analysis from The Vortex with my commentary. The item in quotes is something someone else said this week.
1) “We are in a ‘housing crisis.’ The industry is crashing down so we’re going to continue to have these sort of problems.”
Okay. People, please. Can we please stop fucking calling it a “housing crisis?” To me, the word crisis should be reserved for things which truly are a crisis. Examples would be the tsunami, global warming, my hair during high humidity. “Crisis” is not a catchall to describe the legions of stupid people who couldn’t understand that no matter how many raises they got at Arby’s, it was never going to bridge the income gap required to make the “new” payments when the interest rate jumped. So for that fact alone, let’s never call it a “housing crisis” again. You can call it a “stupidity crisis” if you want. That’s much more applicable. The mass amounts of stupid people running around signing documents without reading or understanding them, getting foreclosed on, and getting kicked out of their house does not a crisis make.
2) “Oh, I was up all night because last night a guy at one of our properties was smoking a cigarette and burned one of the buildings down. He’s not gonna make it.”
Ask me what the accelerator was. Ask me!!! It was the guy’s OXYGEN TANK he was toting around with him while he lit up. Bwahahahahahaha!
3) “Oh, while you were at the fire, I was at another property where there was a flood.”
Ask me what caused the flood. Ask me! Two men were fighting over a woman neither of them are dating. One pulled out a gun and shot the other. The bullet went through his lung and into a toilet tank. The toilet tank exploded and the water flooded into several units below.
4) I was told to attend a meeting in D.C. with a coworker. I was told several times to attend this meeting, with the coworker. I repeat myself because I want to make sure you understand, this meeting was confirmed several times. At the follow up meeting in the office, my coworker and I were reprimanded for attending this meeting. “You should have just asked a courier to retrieve that information.” Yeesh.
5) “You know, when Stacy first started here, she was inundated from day one. All I’ve seen her replacement do is organize stacks of paper and not really do any work. Where did all that work go that Stacy used to do?”
Me. Have you seen my desk? Which brings me to my next item…
6) “They really like clean desks around here. We’ve been told to keep our desks clear.” To which I responded, “Have you seen my desk?” They said, “Yeah, I’m sure you’ll get the talking to.”
They are obsessed with filing there. They file things every 5 seconds.
7) “What time did you get here? I was here at twenty of but I waited at that light for 10 minutes. Bob got here at 7:00. No, I think Randall was first, he was in at 6:40.” “Well I was working from home from 5:30 this morning.” “Did she ask you what time you got in? She’s so crazy. She likes to keep track.” “Didn’t you know you were supposed to go to the other office and tell them you were here?”
I heard all that while I was waiting for my interview, actually. I thought it odd that people were obsessed with what time they all get to work. Then I found out they have a roster and they actually write the time that you arrive. Oh. My. God. I wonder if I should ask for a hall pass and try to pass a note to Ryan like in 8th grade.
Last night I raided my medicine cabinet to shake out some pills to get me through. I’ve got Lorazepam, Klonopin, Dicyclomine and several other anti-anxiety formulations that may or may not have expired several years ago. I think these little bottles of pills are my only chance of survival, otherwise, as I said to Mr. X, “It can only get better or worse. And if it gets worse, I’ll have a decision to make.”
“Stupidity crisis” that’s the title of this post, right?
You know I’m not saying this to be mean spirited, but you are never going to survive that place. It is SO beneath you it’s not funny….the oxygen tank/bullet stories…priceless.
That meeting things is classic…I have had the same thing happen to me.
The work force is just a series of indignities we should not be forced to face.
For instance, my boss tried to guess my weight this week. That was lovely.
The “stupidity crisis” was/is good for some of us. Let’s hope it doesn’t go away completely.
Too bad the bullet through the lung into the toilet tank and flood didn’t happen where the smoker blew up. They could have saved him. Now that would have been a good story.
It appears I need to show up and help “clear” the desk.
I think…fuck. I don’t even know what to think. Except, my idea to call in a bomb threat was a good one. An even better idea would be to actually bomb that shit hole.
Punish those that tresspass against you. Seriously you should give ’em some crazy shit right back. You should see if you can out crazy them.
Come in at 5 AM & make sure the security camera sees you-wave! Clean off your desk top completely in the middle of the day, photograph it and send out a photo to everyone. Start talking shit about people like “Neal is a real jackass” who cares if there really is a Neal there. Let them wonder “who the hell is Neal?” Things like that….
Mr. X is brilliant. If the exploding toilet put out the fire from the smoking Oxygen tank you’d have a CSI episode waiting to be written.
Sixes – I had said last week to mommy when she said “How long do you think you can last?” “Well, I worked for Calvin Klein, so that was hell on earth, and I made it three miserable months. Let’s see!”
Cube – I haven’t even gotten to some of the outfits and the culture here yet. Yikes. Can you say “Working Woman” a la Melanie Griffith? Nude pantyhose. Outfits from the Jacqueline Smith Collection.
Lemmonex – I just called a woman I don’t know to ask her something and she said, “I am at the gynecologist now. I’ll have to call you back.” Who says that?
Mr. X – Yes, please come here. Then cum here.
E – If anyone is going to call in a bomb threat, it’s you.
Ms. A – I lost you around “get in at 5 a.m.” You’re kidding, right?
I wonder if you could work it so that you could report to the clock watchers, “I never left. I’ve been here since yesterday.”
One summer, when I was a still a student, I took summer work at the Smithsonian. I wish I could remember the woman’s name, because I would place it here.
She already had a reputation in the division, and she decided to single me out for her attention. At first it was friendly “wanting to be helpful,” and I was gracious and thanked her, but declined. Apparently the handkerchief was dropped and the cannons starting firing. She would write down when I arrived at work, every break, coming and going, my lunch times, my departure. She never went to HR with it, but she confronted me on it, and I went to the head of the division and complained. They told her to back off. Now it was truly war. It only escalated until I left at the end of summer, but any time I had to be around that glaring, malevolent creature, it was a misery.
Now for a funny story about her. They were giving a party for someone: birthday, departure…I don’t remember, and Ms. Stopwatch made a sheet cake. Some of the women in the office yanked me off to the side and said, “Don’t eat it. We aren’t.” Then they told me once one of them had to take something to Stopwatch’s apartment and it was overrun with cats, reeked of pee, and how she let the cats jump all over the place, including the kitchen counter, where they ate off the woman’s plates, bowls, etc.
So we all stood in a loose circle, the cake in the center of the table, no one eating cake. I told Stopwatch I was dieting or something….more glares and she lashed out and snapped at me…can’t remember what she said, but the cake…sat there. I would have felt bad for her if she wasn’t such a flaming bitch. I heard later, much later after I had gone back to school that ultimately they fired her….and getting fired out of a government job you have to be pretty far gone.
For example, there was another woman working at the Smithsonian then. She carried a bucket of concrete to work everyday. Everyone knew about it. It was even in her personnel file that she did it. Did they fire her? You guess.
With such geniuses, its hard to imagine the housing sector go into the dump.
“She carried a bucket of concrete to work everyday.”
I need an explination of WHY please?
Um… I think I can speak to the wardrobe choices. I was only there for a couple of hours, but yeah. Um… yeah.
I worked for a woman who would follow me into the bathroom and yell questions over the stall. Never again.
Well someone just came in and told me that he wants my office so I’ll have to move. Yes. he was serious. I have no clue what goes on in this place. It’s unreal.
Wait. there’s more. Someone just decided that they are going to make the already-dire parking situation worse. Half the lot is now going to be pay to park at $4 an hour. The other half will be portioned out into a section for valet parking and the rest the employees get to fight over. Woo hoo. Starts June 1st. Now I’ll have to get to work at like 4 a.m. just to park.
Oh my god. Please be careful. Wow.
Ms. A. I heard later she was schizophrenic. I worked in the Paleontology Division (bones). I never could figure it out about the concrete. I thought perhaps she wanted to make molds of the bones, but that was never it. Wouldn’t be allowed, anyway. Everyone knew she was doing it. Not one person in authority stepped forth to discuss it with her.
I feel like we could all write books about weird office experiences. One summer, again a student, I worked at the University I was attending…they had a temp service, and I had good skills. I was assigned to work for a Chancellor and one morning I went in early per usual and was in his offices turning on all of the lights, including his private bathroom. The man who did cleaning had been hovering around. When I went into the bathroom there was a huge spiral of turd in the toilet, unflushed. A good yard of it. When I came out of the bathroom, the workman was standing in a doorsill with this twisted smile on his face.
Velvet? Did you tell him you can’t give up your office space, because you just had sex on your desk last night and you’re sentimental? Did you tell him that Ms. A’s fictitious “Neal” has already claimed the space? Are you going to leave a pair of granny panties in the desk drawer? A strap on?
Velvet? Sweetie? Tomorrow morning: a bucket of concrete. 😉
You tell that asshat that your office is mine god dammit! and if you are getting at 4…meet me in the lobby…we can suck face for the security camera and everyone can kiss our asses!
We will rule supreme!
See, you say “The Vortex,” and I think of yummy hamburgers and beer in Atlanta. Droooooool.
Also, your thoughts about the “housing crisis”? Fucking brilliant. Every time we get a bill from Congress talking about how we’re going to fix the crisis or meltdown or whatever that day’s buzzword is, my colleagues and I just brace ourselves for the inevitable retardedness firestorm. The only people stupider than those Arby’s workers are the ones who want to bail them out. Grrrr. Rant over.
Sooooo. What time do you want me to show up at your office today so I can rescue you from the C-4 that’s hidden in one of the toilets near the oxygen tank?
PS, Neal—Velvet and I are official girl crushes and she doesn’t like to share unless you have a really big cock. Just remember that.
I do indeed so let’s make it a threesome, over the toilet near the C-4. It’ll be “explosive”!
Cube – My many years in the restaurant world (waiting, bartending) made me seek out a book called simply “Waiting,” with stories about waiting tables from servers all over. The precursor to waiterrant I suppose, but still, a book of office stories would be hilarious. The extremes in Office Space are funny because they are based in truth. When Mr. X asked me why everyone was so weird here, I said, “Well, 70% of the kids in high school were freakish in someway, and they all gotta end up somewhere.”
Neal – Sorry, since I don’t know you, I can’t suck your face. You’re invisible, right?
BJ – I always think of the real Vortex when I say that. I remember in Atl, some guy got a burger from the Vortex and he lived in the bldg above it. He realized he forgot his keys, so he decided to climb up the building to break into his unit. He didn’t make it. He fell and died instantly. His burger, in the takeout bag, was still hot when the cops arrived!
E – I’m wondering if encouraging “Neal” is a good thing! HA! I’m going to try like hell to leave her on time so I can go to the park!!!!!!
Ok I have a work story for your book.
I once had a coworker come in and tell me about her yeast infection. Oh yeah and details about the pustules on her labia, how it itched, etc and she was so in to the story I wouldn’t have doubted if she pulled up her skirt to show me.
And of course she gave me updates about her “problem” throughout the day!!
I think “Neal” needs a girlfriend named “Ambien.”
Velvet: I read “Waiting.” And as for Mr. X’s puzzlement over “those people,” I know they are in every work place. I’ve had coworkers:
1) clip their toenails at their desk.
2) give themselves manicures & pedicures at their desk…the works.
3) floss their teeth while talking to you
4) put on medicated foot powder
5) leave urine stains on their chair
6) one woman would come into your office, leave a series of farts while talking to you, then say, laughingly, “This is what happens after you’ve had five children.”
7) a gay coworker who would (daily) eat a hard boiled egg and grapefruit at 4 p.m. and by 5 p.m. be silently letting rotten sulphur smells loose. Another coworker would privately say “He’ll be wearing Depends by 40.”
8) a schizophrenic woman who would be at her desk with her head on it, arms at sides, and staring off into space…the boss would consistently walk right by her and not say a thing….and this was his secretary.
9) the coworker who ate with his mouth open and made loud smacking noises with every bite. He was married to a deaf woman so she never knew.
10) a woman with vinegar feet who liked to take her shoes off and let her feet breathe in the afternoon.
There are so many things you could do, Velvet, to bring that place to Ground Zero.
Washington Cube: Wow! That is all.
With everyone’s stories here, I can’t wait to join the workforce!
Get a new job that deserves your MBA degree (first in your class)! This sounds like the office of a slum landlord. Now I understand why you can’t come to my party…
First, Capitalize on the Parking Situation: Go to a sign company & have an Official-looking sign made that says– Wait for it– Valued Employee of the Month and Your name on it along with the whole Violaters will be towed thing (Remember to list a local tow company & phone #) and have Mr. X install it right near the front enterance (he’s put his “back into it” before and I think he’d be Game just to see what happens) No one will ask you for your office after That!
Second: Park your car there for a minimum of a solid week- take Public Transportation. The Early-Risers will get freaked when they see it!
Third: Use all of your Evil Friends to keep calling you and start looking like you’re a Rain-maker- That will tone down even the fiercest bosses and co-workers- Nobody wants to get in the way of the Steamroller!
I am in love with Wild Bill. He’s an evil genius!
I agree with Sixes. Bill has come up with creative chaos. You would drive them nuts with this.
Yeah I’m sold. I’ll call you and let you yell at me. Maybe it’ll get you out of the Vortex before 10pm!
Can I yell at E too?
Yeah sure. My number’s 212 660 2245. You should call now, actually.
Har har har.
Ahem. If I really want to call and yell at you, it would be easy to do.
Yeah, yeah. Only if you’re going to bring Striker to come play will I answer the phone.
sometimes..i dont even post the crazy shit in my life cause i think nobody would believe it…
then i think..except velvet…she KNOWS how fucked up things can be…
and ….um….wild bill…is soooooooo mine…
hang in there kiddo…
the stories alone may be worth it!!!
Give me a dry afternoon and I just might, though I’d have to drive us there which could be problematic since he doesn’t pass for a seeing-eye dog enough to ride the metro.
I am so glad that I work from home now as a claims adjuster and do not have to deal with stupid people (well except our insureds which are possibly the shooting and or the smoking guy since we do insure for stupidity. Honestly once I started working from home and I no longer had to have a person that clocked my every second of every day I suddenly got happier! and less stressed too!!