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This is my blog, and it is dangerous. Do you think I want to die like this?





Tuesday, February 11, 2014

Story Time (work)

Months and months ago, I told one of my favorite bloggers, Rev.BIOU13 about an office I worked at in another lifetime, and co-worker of mine who had issues understanding a lot of things, including the definition of "business casual". Even on a "casual Friday", a dress code still remained - one which this absolute delight of breaking-up-the-monotony-with-mental-craziness lady flouted with aplomb. Heap big aplomb.

One of my favorite things she'd wear into the office on casual Fridays were a pair of leggings with an over-sized Marvin The Martian t-shirt. Once, it was liberally stained with cherry Kool-Aid.

Another time, while working reception, she decided to cut her hair. At the reception desk. Also in the bathroom meant for customers. There was hair everywhere - on the bathroom floor, in the sink, stuck to the receptionist chair and all up inside the desk drawer. Her reasoning for why this was okay is that she was on her break. Which doesn't explain why there was bits of hair all over the reception area, but to be fair, I didn't ask her if she intentionally brought back some hair from the bathroom and decided to store it in the drawer. She was actually that much fun.

But the story I'm really here to tell you about is much more complex to explain, and requires some visual help. Since all the cool kids with popular blogs have shitty MS Paint "drawings", I decided it was high time I utilize this tool myself. I can't wait to become famous as a result.

Keep in mind, I spent an absolutely outrageous amount of time on details no one will notice, for a story that is probably only funny to me. And here we go.

This is the general office layout of where I worked:

Just looking at this gives me indigestion and the farts.







The colored area in this next picture illustrates the lowest-form-of-secretary section:

I put a lightning bolt in my cubicle, because that's where all the magic happened.



We all spent a fair amount of time in the mail room, even when we weren't technically "working" the mail room - which is where this tale beings ...

I was just minding my business, standing by the office skull and crossbones ...

... when I noticed something unexpected in an office environment. Footprints. I saw them at the skull and cross bones and followed them thusly:

Oh yeah, this is just another normal day at twork. Chasing white fricking foot prints deep into Unit 5.

At this point, the footprints faded away. So I traced them back and followed them in a new direction.
Seriously, that guy Brian was a doll. The day after I had my wires tightened on my braces, he'd bring
me Italian Wedding soup for lunch because he knew that chewing was too painful for me. I miss him.


Keep in mind, this whole time I was making this face:

Just kidding. This is simply the face I owned at the time.
Look at me, all blonde with pursed lips and no nose ring. So young. So contact lensed. So over-plucked.
Actually, the expression I was wearing was more like this:


Pre-braces! Would you believe I was only 18 in this picture? I look 30 fricking years old.

Mixed with this:

Because a good mystery makes me feel like I'm having a great poo.
Finally, I reach the trail's end.
The footprints are coming from inside the cubicle.
Now, if your skills of deduction aren't as finely honed as mine, allow me to explain that this particular cubicle belonged to the girl fond of wearing juice-stained t-shirts to work and cutting her own hair. At work.

The trail not only originated from under her desk, but also held a pair of shoes filled to overflowing with white foot powder. She was off exploring parts unknown (visiting the break room to give herself a pedicure?) while I was struggling to get up from all fours because I was losing my shit laughing.

The only thing that came close to being as funny as this was when I reached this page in my Onion page-a-day calender:


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4 comments:

DogsOnDrugs.com said...

The thought occurred to me that if the powder was actually cocaine, it would explain her other behavior as well. (And also why you were on your hands and knees.)

Most of the scary dress code violations I've seen have been of the "micro-skirt after 40" variety.

But we did have a guy who skipped everywhere in the office. honest-to-god, 4 year old skipping. Everywhere. And then some asshole complained and he couldn't skip any more, so he quit. Really. This guy might've been on "foot powder" like your haircut friend..

Unknown said...

We had one girl who burped and sneezed using the sound "Mimimimimi!" and swore to GOD it was just the natural sound that came out of her.

Truth be told, for awhile, I was the utter psychotic of the office, due to a chronic pain condition and resulting pain-killer addiction (I should tell the stories here, seriously).

But I always knew how to dress, never made weird noises that weren't on purpose and definitely always appreciated when people brought me soup. I was also the best person to fix a printer jam (happened a bit from photocopying my face).

SamProof said...

Nico!

Hop on my jetski!

-Sam Proof aka Raz

Unknown said...

*jumps on jetski immediately, cradling virgin colada (no rum)*

This guy is totally one I could be a best friend with.