Mar 18, 2010

Let's Play "Is My Co-worker Psychotic?"!

I am still loving my latest iteration of work, as it is mostly processing rote forms and applications punctuated by spreadsheet analysis and dynamic tracking of a project. Later it will morph into more sophisticated assignments but for now, for the changes the past 18 months have brought, I am in a Good Place.

Since day one I have been sharing a large office with a salesman. He's a crazy-different sort and very sweet, the father of 4 boys and one recent baby girl so he's got a lot to work hard for. He seems a wonderful dad and husband to his family. I have no complaints really, except you know how hard it is to concentrate on your task-intensive project while the other is very blab-intensive in sales and chatty phone calls. It makes you want to scream, at times. We have our tiffs but have much in common as cell mates. In other words, we argue like family. Like an Italian family, maybe. Shaddup!

But why, sweet reader would I come to work one morning, enter the office to the usual chit-chat and how're the kids talk when Sales Guy goes off on one of his famous off-the-wall tangents from out of the blue, this time about setting rat traps in his garage. Yeah, his boys were curious and had a million questions, etc. And in some insane segue-- which shock leaves me unable to recall-- he reaches down under his desk, still talking, and pulls out a PigglyWiggly grocery bag as though he's getting his lunch to go put in the fridge. Still nattering about the rat traps. . .

Oh, yes he did! He reached into the bag and pulled out a Ziploc full of Dead Rat. A rat. That was dead. Two feet from my chair and slightly further from me since I had left my chair at a rapid rate of acceleration by that point; down the hall, out the front door, asking to have the man fired.

Ho-lee crap! WTF dude?

People that try to make work just like home (Rats! In bags!) make me want to borrow Dogette's tat sleeves just to keep the personal space voluntarily larger than normal.

Rats. In Plastic Bags. At Work. Opinion?
Everybody does it.
Sounds like something my brother would do.
A Learning Opportunity.
Payback. (What? No, I can't imagine why. . . )
WTF?
Joan has moved to a different office by now.
  
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17 comments:

leeann said...

Lemme do the math.... 5 kids, salesman in this day and age economy... this guy was due to go off the tracks any day. You happened to be there for the mental derailment deluxe.
Lucky he was armed only with a dead rodent.

Joan of Argghh! said...

Well, did I mention Insurance salesman??

Yeah, I moved into another office today.

mushroom said...

He's not insane. It was in a plastic bag. It's like a deer head hanging on the wall.

He caught it. He's proud.

He has skillz.

OK, I wouldn't do it.

But then if I had rats it the garage, I'd let the cats take care of them. Or I'd shoot them and they would be pretty messy.

He's an insurance salesman. He's slightly unbalanced from the get-go.

erica said...

That gave me a much-needed laugh.

WWWebb said...

Three words: noise cancelling headphones. I got s pair at Big Lots for $20.

Joan of Argghh! said...

An Urban Trophy, 'shroom? Truthfully, it sound exactly like something my brother would do.

I do wear ear-buds and play Buena Vista Social Club music, or classical music if I'm doing spreadsheets. But he has an irritatingly loud voice. I've moved.

patti said...

He was a cat in an earlier life...

Ricky Raccoon said...

I miss the old rat pack.

diamond dave said...

Sounds like he's short a rodent or two on the old treadmill.

f/zero said...

I have a taxidermist friend and you wouldn't believe....well, you probably would.

PeggyU said...

I know a few folks who would do something like that. They are engineers, though.

When I was about 10, I caught a field mouse and brought it to school for show-and-tell. It freaked out the teacher, and then the mouse got loose and I got a pass to the principal's office. I haven't done anything like that since.

Laura said...

I can not vote because I do not see "You should get a baby pygmy goat." option. Please write that vote on the ballot. Thank you.

Doux said...

ew or heh or ............. ;~)


What color was it? Male? Female? Rigor set yet? Oozing rat fluids coagulating in the bottom of the bag? Stinky? How long was it's tail? Big teefs? Weight?

Relocating was good. Hope you don't suffer PTRD.

Everybody does it.

jwm said...

The last four rats I have encountered all died beneath the sole of my shoe. A miserable way to kill a rat, but better than allowing a rat to escape. I. Hate. Rats.
Trust me, I would have given that clown a new definition for outrage. He would be haunted by the memory of his pissed off co-worker when his youngest child had given him grandchildren. And he'd be visiting his proctologist with a most embarrassing request for removing a foreign object.

JWM

Joan of Argghh! said...

Note to all potential rat bastards: steer clear of jwm.

dogette said...

Tat sleeves, stat. Hell, get a real tat, of a rat, going splat and all that.

Sorry I'm in a goofy mood. We have housssssse guests.

Joan of Argghh! said...

House guests that aren't fuckin' squirrels?