Archive for the ‘Staff – Farook’ Category

I’m starting to get freaked by Farook.

I really think he’s losing it.

It’s a shame. I had Otto in the “first to lose it” pool.

He’s the new fixture in my horse stall. Always rambling, ranting and tenting his hands.

Farook from Accounting walks into my cube…

Farook: Are you busy?

Me: Very, I’ve got this report that I–

Farook: It’s not true.

Me: Sorry?

Farook: (whispers dramatically) I work!!!

Me: Yes. At Hamish Industries…

Farook: That’s right! I’ll need it in writing.

Me: Need what?

Farook: Things haven’t being going well. The practical jokes failed… And when I brought my dogs to work… A mistake… They mauled Carlita’s groin… Remember?

Me: It’s hard to forget.

Farook: And then there’s the office lottery pool money.

Me: What about it?

Farook: Nothing! I have friends in management. As well as noobs like you. First one in, last one out. Right?

Me: I think it’s last one–

Farook: I work! I know that I sometimes fall asleep. But only because I get drowsy.

Me: Okay, Farook.

Farook: The problem is Carlita. I know you lust after her–

Me: Huh? Me? Nump! Nerk! No I don’t! Who said that?

Farook: She’s had it out for me long before the groin maul. Now she’s telling management that I’m not doing my job. That I don’t work. I work! I run the office lottery. You’ve seen me work. Yes?

Me: Well, actually, and I don’t care, but, no–

Farook: I need dirt on Carlita. But that might be hard. You can help. You need to seduce her!

Me: What? Farook! Hah! That’s crazy! Anyway… How would I do that?

Farook: Good. You’re on my side. We’re in this together.

Farook suddenly leaves. It’s over. For now.

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9.01am: Farook is at my desk. He tells me he wants to be more popular and could use my advice.

I ask why he’s come to me. He says that I “appear to be moderately well liked by most, and tolerated by the rest.”

What a sweet talker.

9.02am: I suggest that he lighten up, smile, say hello, and play the odd practical joke.

Farook says “Practical jokes?” He barks out a single laugh and leaves.

9.03am: I’m pretty sure I’ve made a big mistake.

9.15am: Swearing three cubes down. Word is “someone” dumped coffee grounds in Naline’s desk drawer.

Let the antics begin.

10.45am: Next victim… Me! I enter my horse stall to discover my mouse has been crazy glued to my desk. Bravo, Farook. Well played.

12.42am: Nutless Tom goes into anaphylactic shock. Apparently some crazy prankster put peanut butter in his egg salad sandwich. An ambulance is called.

Farook is nowhere to be seen…

1.36pm: Jack from Payroll enters my cube weeping. Someone has shredded all his reports and his family photos. When he leaves, I see the sign pinned on his back that says Fire Me.

2.54pm: Naline screams. I run to the office kitchen and watch Mike pull a blue lipped Farook out of the fridge. Apparently he emptied it, crawled in and waited for someone to open the door so he could spring out and yell at them.

4.12pm: Farook enters my cube. I say “You’re going overboard.”

He says “No I’m not. I’m making them laugh.”

He tells me he’s thinking of pulling the building’s fire alarm or slamming a coconut cream pie in Otto’s face.

He asks “Which one is funnier?”

4.13pm: Farook slams a coconut cream pie in Otto’s face.

4.14pm: Otto punches Farook in the stomach.

5.02pm: I leave the building. As I exit, I hear the fire alarm going off.

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Farook from Accounting brought his French Poodles into the office today.


He walked in with the three of them, tied them to his chair and started “working.”

Apparently he fired his dog sitter. Something about a missing Pepsi from his fridge.

Within seconds the dogs started barking. They only stopped barking to pee on the carpet. Or hump each other.

By now, Typhoid Mildred had formed an angry mob. They went off in search of my boss, Clark.

Next, Carlita Paonessa showed up at Farook’s cube.

She said “I’m allergic to dogs, Farook.”

Before Farook could reply, the dogs broke free and attacked Carlita. They started by mauling her groin.

I know this because I heard her crash to the floor and start screaming “Ow! They’re mauling my groin! Ow! Ow! Jesus Christ! My groin! My groin!”

A crowd quickly formed. Everyone was horrified. Everyone agreed something had to be done. But all everyone did was stare.

Farook started screaming “No! Bad doggies! Stop! Niña, Down! Pinta, heel! Santa Maria, don’t! No! Bad doggies! Stop! Stop! Stop!”

But Farook’s bad doggies weren’t stopping.

Clark arrived. He pulled them off Carlita’s groin and ordered Farook to take his dogs home. “Now!!!”

I have to say, at that moment, Clark radiated authority.

But then he undermined it all when he asked Carlita if he could tend to her wounds.

As if things weren’t litigious enough.

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Farook from Accounting doesn’t subscribe to the whole notion of small talk. Or, it would appear, hard work.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen him working. He seems to be one of those people that put all of their effort into looking busy rather than actually working.

To me, that always seems like more effort that just doing your job.

Farook is good at acting busy. And as of today, I understand why.

Because today I “Googled” Farook.

And today I discovered that Farook from Accounting is active in community theatre.

And when I say “active” in community theatre, I mean “really” active.

I’ll admit it. I was surprised.

I watched a YouTube clip of him as Willy Loman and Biff in a no budget production of Death of a Salesman.

Farook has an unusual acting style. He mostly screams. And his hands never stop moving. He did a lot of mini karate chops.

It was very entertaining.

Farook also wrote, produced, directed, and starred in his one man musical show Pirates Of The Office Pen.

The video of him singing “I Am The Very Model of a Modern Major Accountant” has to be seen to be believed.

The most amazing thing is that he’s got to be the world’s only writer, actor, singer, producer and director who doesn’t talk about himself at the office.

And that’s a talent.

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Arrive at work to find Farook from Accounting measuring my cubicle. He looks trapped. Trapped in my cubicle.

I say “Good morning, Farook.”

He says my cube is 3 square inches wider than his. And that I’m late.

I was hoping for “Good morning, Alan.”

Email from Farook. We need to talk about my cubicle. Something about “favoritism” and “standards.”


Farook arrives at my cubicle. He asks if I got his email. I say “Yes.” He sighs painfully. I smile politely. He storms off.

I’m in the bathroom. Next thing I know, Farook is standing behind me. He demands to speak about my extra 3 inches. I suggest this might not be the appropriate venue and zip up quickly.

Farook enters my cube and takes some digital photos.

Back from lunch to discover Farook in my cubicle with Trudy from Human Resources and my boss, Clark. Clark looks tired and annoyed. There is a lot of measuring and debate.

Email from Farook telling me that none of this is personal. He trusts I understand.

Memo from Trudy. Customer service cubicles are being reconfigured due to “irregularities.” Workers arrive Monday. We are advised to box files, disconnect computers and be prepared for minor inconveniences next week.

Revised floor plan arrives from Trudy.

Near riot as staff argue about changes to the cubes. Typhoid Mildred calls Farook a “bleeding eedjit.” Nutless Tom laughs. Mary Margaret cries. Otto demands to be moved closer to the washroom. Pandemonium ensues…

Turns out the only two who aren’t affected by the move – me and Farook.

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