Wilson—Top o’ the morn—
Can I share with you the level of idiocy that prevails at work lately?
Madeleine (extremely tactless woman who CONSTANTLY asks me for pieces of candy from the common box of See’s and NEVER offers to contribute to purchasing same): Are there any goodies left from yesterday?
G: Um, you could look in the freezer for ice cream.
M: Oh, just ice cream.
G: Yeah, I think the cake is gone. Anyway it wouldn’t be very good by now.
M: Oh, the cake is gone?
G: I think so, I haven’t seen any.
M: You mean the cake in the refrigerator?
G: Oh, there’s cake in the refrigerator?
M: Yes (goes away, comes back with heaping plate of gooey cake in hands)—this is what’s left of the cake.
G: Ah ha.
M: It doesn’t look very good, I think we should throw it away.
G: Okay.
(She places the cake on my desk.)
G: I don’t want it.
M: Here (attempts to hand me cake).
G: No, I really don’t want it.
M: Okay, I guess I’LL throw it away.
G: (Noticing metal knife smeared in icing, buried in cake) That’s Rosa’s knife, don’t throw that away.
M: (Attempts to hand me icing-smeared knife) Here.
G: I don’t want it.
(She goes away, comes back with cleaned knife and places it on my desk, to my dismay.)
M: Okay, I’m going to have some ice cream, do we have any bowls?
G: Not that I know of, but there are plates in the lunchroom. (this is common knowledge)
M: Okay, can I have a spoon?
(Spoons are also in lunchroom, but I relent and fetch her one of my plastic spoons)
M: Do we have an ice cream scooper?
G: Um...I really don’t know. (Am irrrrrrrritated.)
M: ...So I guess I’ll just use a plastic spoon?
G: I guess.
What is WITH this person? How reliant upon me do people really need to be????? Can she not forage for snacks by herself? What is her procedure for finding snacks at home—does she have an assistant there to tell her contents of fridge and cupboards, or to approve disposal of foods clearly past their prime, or to find her dishes and utensils?
Totally discouraged. Leaving work.
Gruner
Gruner-
Indeed what is WITH that woman? That little incident is as good or better than any of the crap that goes on here. I am confused as to why she comes to YOU in particular for snack guidance. Where is your desk located? Am now picturing your workspace located in small kitchenette equipped with hotplate, cupboards and dish drainer full of plastic utensils. Why do you have plastic spoons near where you are? Why are people clearly more demented than you and only 1/4 as intelligent asking you to give them plastic spoons? How do people such as this survive to such an advanced age? Our society is too soft I tell you. That woman should have been dead long ago. Can you imagine her trying to survive during say the bronze age? No one to give her plastic utensils. Would probably die from eating rancid mammoth flesh. In fact, you may want to consider putting enticing, yet dangerous food items in the fridge and withhold any food disposal tips. (Things in opened cans and the like.) Would be good. Weed out any useless members of workforce/society.
Told my mother about Colombo. She was amazed that someone else similar to me actually exists. She thought I was mentally ill while growing up. Could not believe that she could raise a child with such odd tastes. I told her about his collections, and she said, “You mean stuff like yours?” I said, “No, not exactly stuff like mine. It’s more cohesive. His mother ENCOURAGED him to collect. He’s a bit more refined in his collecting.” Then I told her that HIS mother sews up his blankey when it gets damaged. She looked at mine, and that’s when she decided to make me a new one.
Is your desk the closest to the kitchen? Were you the last person hired in that office?
Over and Out
Wilson
Wilson,
Yes – clearly everyone is far too dependent on me. People come to me for band-aids, though there is a fully serviceable first-aid station centrally located. (There is also a locked cabinet full of enough food and water rations to keep the people on this floor alive for three days in case of earthquake, quarantine or hostage situation. It worries me that it should be locked. Who has the key? I’m sure everyone assumes it’s me, but A Ha Hah Ah Hh A! It’s not. --What if that person calls in sick on the fateful day?) Also, because I am one of the youngest people on the floor and wear amusing outfits (amusing to them), I am somewhat of a mascot. My cubicle is not the nearest to the fridge. I have no kitchenette in my cube. I do have my own personal stash of spoons, sugar and soy sauce packets, and emergency foodstuffs, but this is not common knowledge, nor do I maintain said stash for public consumption. In short, I don’t really know WHY this woman is incapable of foraging for snacks on her own! She’s intelligent, ambitious, and a very capable project manager. Clearly a case of person compensating for overachievement in one area by being utterly helpless in another.
Life is Futile
Gruner