Spring Facial

My surly coworker and I were having a nice conversation about spring...

Me: "It's spring, love is in the air. I can feel it coming."

Surly Coworker: "I can feel it coming too," as he mimes wiping off his face.

My Surly Coworker Again

My surly coworker has a thing about the end of the world. He's not a religious freak who thinks God's going to end the world, he just thinks the end is coming, and he'll soon be up on his land in a gun tower protecting his booze with his shotgun.

He can be heard saying, "We're all gonna die" on any given day, so it wasn't too surprising when he broke out with, "Every morning I go outside, look around, and think, why aren't you all dead!"

The Beauty of the Potluck

Yesterday, we enjoyed a potluck lunch at my place of employment to celebrate the great fall harvest festival. Or was it Halloween? Anyway, during an average year, I’d say we have 4-5 potlucks, and I always look forward to them for the free food and great conversation.

After a department potluck, I feel compelled to talk about it with my coworkers for the rest of the day.

"Did you get some food?"
"Yeah, that roast was awesome. Did you get dessert yet? Make sure to try the pie.”
"OK, then, have a nice day."

This conversation is repeated throughout the rest of the day between me and every other employee I run into. After much observation over the years, I finally realized my compulsion to talk about the potluck is shared by most of my peers. Over in the corner a widower discussed how she caramelized the onions for her hot dish, while a 30-something single man nodded and sipped on a half empty cup of diet Coke. Out on the sidewalk, two of the younger employees chatted about the merits of eating food that had been left out for 3+ hours.

The beauty of the potluck is that it gives us something to talk about other than the weather or that last belligerent customer who called 2 minutes before closing time. Save for a few small cliques of close friends, my work place, like most, has a bunch of people working together who would not normally be friends, but are forced to coexist and spend considerable amounts of time together. The potluck gives us an entire day of built-in, stress-free, convenient conversation!

Here are a couple of actual conversations I had with coworkers:

Me: So, did you try the homemade macaroni & cheese?
Coworker: Yeah, that was the bomb.
Me: Ever notice how after a potluck, everyone talks about it the rest of the day? It’s great, it gives us something to talk about.
Coworker: Yeah, I suppose. (small chuckle)
Me: Did you try the pie? Amazing!

Coworker 2: Man, that trail mix is good. Go get some, it’s zesty.
Me: Maybe I will.
Me: Wow, that is really good. But I’m pretty sure it’s spicy, not zesty.
Coworker 2: Are you sure, I’m positive it’s zesty.
Me: I’m going with spicy.

Slacker at a Staff Meeting

Department meetings have long been the bane of any good slacker’s existence. Take a quiet room, add all the bosses and coworkers, and nothing good can come of that.

What do I usually think about during staff meetings?

Revenue attainment? No.

Attendance policies? No.

Department goals? Hell no.

I usually start by going around the room and guessing who is gay, straight or bisexual. That usually burns about 5 minutes, then it’s on to what I’m going to eat for lunch; will it be a burger, or maybe a slice of pizza? By the time I get done daydreaming about the Three Musketeers bar that I’ll be eating to follow up lunch, 15 minutes are burned up. Only 45 minutes left.

I then usually tune into the meeting for a minute or so just in time to hear, “...and this time we mean it, only one tardy per month, and then its right to the written warning.”

Then my eyes wander around the room again, trying to picture what the older ladies looked like when they were my age. That always leads the gross out portion of the meeting where I think about the old ladies getting it on with their old husbands. After throwing up in my mouth a little, I rinse with some water and move on to the age-old time-waster doodling. On a good day, I can doodle for almost 10 minutes without really trying, and then the meeting is damn near half over. At this point, I’ll think to myself “If they only knew that I had sex in this very conference room…” It was with my wife, but before we were married, so not only should they have fire me, but if the Catholics are right, I’m also going to hell, unless God turns out to be a swinger.

Down to the home stretch I usually start thinking about it is emptying my bladder, so I start tapping my leg and wondering if they plan to upgrade any of the bathrooms on our floor with the automatic flushers like they have in the bathroom across from the CEO’s office. I even think about asking it aloud, but I never do.

At some point during the meeting, clapping will break out because of some award or guest speaker. It’s easy to join in once I hear it, so the bosses think I’m paying attention, but sometimes it breaks me out of a good sex and/or murder fantasy.

By the time we get close to the end, I start tuning in a little to see where we are on the official agenda sitting on the table in front of me, then I show my friend my doodles and like magic, the meeting is over and I didn’t learn or hear a damn thing. Then it’s off to the bathroom.