I eat breakfast every work day at the same time. Not out of any neurotic OCD obsessiveness, that’s just crazy, but from pure introvert obsessiveness which is totally sane and relatable. At 10:15 every morning the snack bar is almost completely void of the scourge known as “other people” and there are plenty of quiet corners I can hide in and happily devour my grilled cheese sandwich like it was a dairy covered lover complete with soft but inappropriate noises of appreciation, ecstasy induced eye rolling, leg shaking and prolific licking of the fingers with cringe worthy slurping noises. It’s my scheduled 10 minutes of unadulterated joy every day and while it will probably land me with several sexual harassment complaints at some point for now it’s “my precious” and anyone that disturbs it instantly earns a place near the top of my wish list for when we finally institute the purge. So imagine my face when I’m settling into my quiet corner in the huge and empty cafeteria for my daily dose of cheesy euphoria when this low down, no good, shit mitten, muff scratt, tub fart, warthog faced, Shrek looking bag of bitch had the nerve, the nerve I say to Sit.Across.From.Me!!! There’s a whole open goddamn dining room the size of Donald Trump’s giant floppy ass that’s emptier than a condom machine after seventh fleet shore leave but this puerile cunty big balls decides forcibly inserting himself into my quiet place during love sandwich mastication time at the very next table seems like a swell idea. AND THEN doesn’t even have the decency to turn his back to me but sits facing me like some sort of social decency deviant. Dude!!! I sat there stink eyeing him like a disdainful meerkat thinking I could silently make him uncomfortable enough to move but apparently not because as god as my witness THAT MOTHERFUCKER SMILED AT ME!!! What kind of psychopath does that??? And before one of you soft hearted snot rags @’s me with a, “maybe he was lonely” you can just stuff it. Let him get drunk and call 900 numbers and government officials like the rest of us instead of terrorizing attractive (sort of) young (vaguely) women during their daily conjugal cheese visit. For crying out loud there is not a bag of dicks big enough to even respond to that nonsense.
Once again it’s been a banner week to be me. Monday we found out our boss’s father had passed away and for some bizarre reason my coworkers trusted me to order something for the funeral. Everyone knows I am not the most competent or practical person in the universe so giving me this kind of crap to do is always a bad idea. Thankfully the coworker I share an office with lent a guiding hand and instead of ordering $70 worth of fried chicken and a sympathy clown we decided on Panera bagels and pastries. I got it ordered all fine and dandy and was feeling really proud of myself until the end of the conversation when the sales person said, “thank you for your order and we’re so sorry for the loss” and me being me, I’d already checked out of the conversation mentally and instead of saying something appropriately solemn and polite like maybe, “Thank you” I had to say in my most chipper voice, “oh no problem, thanks a bunch!”. WTF? I’d just spent 10 minutes discussing with this woman what would be the most appropriate thing to send to a wake (apparently flip flop sugar cookies are not as acceptable as plain short bread cookies, who knew?) and then blew off her sympathy like Marsha Brady ordering penis cookies for a bachelorette party.
Then last night I took Donald for a walk as we are both starting to look like overstuffed sausages. I was too lazy to look very hard for walking clothes and there was a pair of Dave’s old sweat pants on top of my laundry pile so that’s what I grabbed. He’s nearly 6 feet tall and I’m barely 5 so needless to say his pants are a wee bit baggy on me which is fine while I’m putzing around but once I put my keys and phone in the pockets they started to drag just a bit. Of course Donald had to poop at the beginning of the walk and he poops something that looks like the giant mound of dinosaur droppings in Jurassic Park so I couldn’t just kick it under some bushes like I do with the smaller dogs and had to pick it up and drag it around with us for the rest of the walk. Then Donald caught the scent of something and used his 100 pounds as leverage to drag me along behind him, one hand desperately clinging to his leash and the other trying to keep my pants up while slinging around a bag of warm dog poo. Pretty sure I’m gonna end up on YouTube for that performance.
Cripes it hurts to be me sometimes.
Unfamiliar soldier (US): Hi Beth! I’m blah blah blah from Charlie Company blah blah blah and I own the students in blah blah blah and I just got here blah blah blah. (If I don’t have to deal with you on a regular basis and you don’t come bearing gifts I’m not going to bother to remember who you are or what you do. It’s not your fault, I’m just that lazy. And kind of an asshole.) I’m just going around getting a feel for the place and learning who everyone is…
Me: (interrupting) Oh you’re a good person then! I rarely leave my cube or care what everyone else does.
US: (Looks startled then laughs like I’m joking) Oh well it’s good to get to know the people you work with. So what do you do?
Me: (deer in headlights: wait, what do I do again? Dipshittery on Facebook isn’t my job! Say something!) ((Babbles incoherently about education and training development)) So feel free to stop by anytime. Especially if you have snacks.
US: Oh do you bring in snacks a lot?
Me: No, I meant you. You bring snacks.
US: (Looking increasingly uncomfortable) ((laughs nervously)) Oh, ha, yes. What kind of snacks do you prefer?
Me: Oh I’ll eat anything but cheese is always a good choice.
US: Ha, good to know. (Bolts like a rabbit)
And that boys and girls is how you use advanced social awkwardness to alienate coworkers and get a reputation as an addlepated nut monkey. You’re welcome!