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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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sick-days-three-things
Three Little Things…

Number One

I accidentally ran into Clark in the building’s coffee shop. I hadn’t spoken to him since my performance review. I’m sure he appreciates that.

We started talking. I was surprised by how friendly he was. Funny even.

I told him I was enjoying working for him.

He went pale, said he was busy and walked away.

Guess he didn’t realize I was one of his staff.

Number Two

Today all staff received a “Management Memo.”

I won’t bore you with the details (and, yeah, they were boring) but check out the memo’s final sentence…

We continue to be committed to finding ways to improve cummunication between senior management and staff.

Cummunication…

Cummunication between senior management and staff

The Senior Management at Hamish Industries are old white men. Really old white men.

I’m glad to have a job but I don’t want to get to know the old boy’s club that well.

Naline CC’d back saying she thought “additional social intercourse would be welcomed.”

Number Three

Mary Margaret and I will be analyzing customer service trends tomorrow. We’ll be spending the day together.

This is unfortunate because Mary Margaret is a notorious crier.

She cries if she’s late for work. She cries if her computer crashes. She cries if someone forgets to say good morning.

Jack from Accounting told me that he and Mary Margaret have worked together before.

He said that if I don’t want her to cry, I must never talk about:

Last year’s Christmas party
Cats
John Cougar Mellencamp
Orange juice
Jellyfish
Ergonomic mouse pads
Career momentum
Dust bunnies
The photocopier
Persons
Places
Things

My plan? I’m going to break into tears before she does and throw her off her game.

It’s pathetic, but I’m sure it’ll work.

Hooray For Dollywood

sick days dollywood
Naline is taking a week off in Dollywood.

She’s been sending me emails. I’m sensing a theme.

First, she has drunken fun…

To: alantruitt@hamishindustries.com
Date: July 6, 2009 2:41 AM
Subject: Hahajs!

Alpo! You dick. Ha. Just joking man. I’m in dollywood. And drunk out of my skull. So, me and Pete went out and saw Dolly’s family perform. HA! “Perform” No, not sex, you perv!!!!!!!!!!!
Lazer, Nail me

And then, remorse…

To: alantruitt@hamishindustries.com
Date: July 7, 2009 1.06 PM
Subject: Sorry

Alan. Whoa! Sorry about my email. Please delete. Okay? I’m having a nice vacation. No sign of Dolly. I’m staying in Pigeon Forge (it’s not as bad as it sounds)…The weather is great.

Then more drunken fun…

To: alantruitt@hamishindustries.com
Date: July 8, 2009 3.09 AM
Subject: Allllllllllpo

Bury it dude and make me bark! HA! Just kidding!!! You rock alpo. Pete’s an asshole.

Followed by…

To: alantruitt@hamishindustries.com
Date: July 8, 2009 2.19 PM
Subject: My apologies

Al, I’m really sorry. I just need to stay away from the laptop. Sorry. No more emails. I promise.

Then once again, more fun…

To: alantruitt@hamishindustries.com
Date: July 9, 2009 1.43 AM
Subject: Hagh al tis si funy

ahahahahh… sorry, I know. But ti I ting is we shoul have sexy,fuck, al, you’re areal cute guy and I’m attracted toyou, but petes such an asshole…hahahahhh central refrigerators wtf lol

And finally an email that chills me to my core…

To: alantruitt@hamishindustries.com
Date: July 9, 2009 6.34 PM
Subject: Please Forgive Me!

Alan,

You must think I’m crazy. But I’m not. I just have problems with boundaries. Anyway, I’ll see you at Hamish next week. I broke up with Pete. He’s a premature ejaculator and has herpes in both places. He’s also very jealous. He really hates you, by the way. Maybe we can have lunch…?

sick days mildred scorned
I figured there’d be repercussions when Clark fired Typhoid Mildred.

Mildred’s not the type to be put out to pasture, and she’s never been fond of Clark.

My guess was that there’d be some nasty letters, slashed tires, and maybe a good old fashioned ass-kicking.

I never expected her to sue.

But according to the rumor mill, that’s exactly what’s happening. And in typical Mildred fashion, she’s not just suing; she’s going for the jugular.

Otto said she’s hired some high profile Scottish labor lawyer and that they are coming out with “cabers blazing.”

She’s looking for $200 million in damages, her job back, and Clark’s left testicle. (I’m not sure why she’d want her job back if she was awarded $200m, or why the left nut is preferable to the right, but I’ve long since given up trying to figure out the woman).

Clark hasn’t taken it well.

He spent the day in a meeting with HR and legal, and there was a lot of screaming and swearing. “I’m not taking the fall for that!” “What do you mean the bitch has pictures?” and “Do I need my own lawyer?” were repeated refrains.

Rumour is Mildred knows where all the Hamish skeletons are hidden.

Naturally, no one is talking about it publicly.

All I know is that Clark looks suspiciously like a man who’s eaten some bad haggis and is about to pay the price.

sick-days-chair-search
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.

The Summer of Stigmata

sick days stigmata rock
First, I listened to Goth Mark’s CD.

Next, I went and saw his band, Mark and The Stigmatas.

Finally, he asked “Be honest, what do you think?”

I said “It’s pretty intense.”

I guess it’s the best ambiguous comment he ever got. He took it as a compliment.

Pretty Intense… I like that.”

Now whenever Goth Mark drops off the mail, all “we” talk about is his band…

Mark: Alpo, I meant to ask. What about Nausea Insomnia?

Me: About what?

Mark: Track three on my CD.

Me: Oh right, track three.

Mark: It’s not derivative of Alien Sex Fiend? Or Sartre?

Me: Nah.

Mark: Yeah. (sings) “Amnesia, hysteria/ I got nausea insomnia!”

Me: Yup. Whoa, look at the time.

Mark: Time To Fester.

Me: What?

Mark: Track six. Time To Fester.

Me: Right.

Mark: We opened with it.

(Silence)

Mark: Hey, have you joined the band’s MySpace Fan Club yet?

Me: I keep forgetting.

Mark: When you join, you should write a review on our page about how awesome we are.

Me: I’m not much of a writer.

Mark: I’ll write it for you!

Me: Please don’t.

Mark: Oh… I’m thinking of changing the band’s name to Pretty Intense.

Me: Makes sense.

Mark: You don’t mind if I use it?

Me: It’s all yours.

Mark: Thanks! You should write some lyrics for the band. Your words. My music. Anyway, no mail for you today. Think lyrics. Later, man.

Otto Talk! Part Deux

sick days otto talk2
Just had lunch with Otto.

Where do they keep the antacids around here?

Int. Fast Food Restaurant – Day

Alan and Otto sitting in booth. They’ve just finished eating their burgers and fries.

Me: So, Otto-mobile.

Otto: I don’t find that funny, Alan.

Me: Sorry. Can you pass me a napkin?

Otto: A napkin?

Me: Yeah, you know, for wiping your mouth.

Otto: I know what a napkin is.

Me: Great. Can you pass me one?

Otto: You don’t have your own?

Me: Uh, no…

Otto: What happened to your napkins?

Me: I forgot to get them. Luckily you grabbed some napkins. So, can you ‘lend’ me one?

Otto: Are you sure you don’t have any napkins? Have you looked under your tray?

Me: Yeah, Otto. I’ve done a pretty exhaustive search.

(Beat)

Otto: I can’t help you.

Me: Excuse me?

Otto: I have 3 napkins. If I loan you one, I’ll only have 2.

Me: And…

Otto: And, I like to have at least 2 back up napkins.

Me: Sounds sensible, but… Come on, Otto.

Otto: I don’t think so.

Me: Otto, just give me a napkin.

Otto: Sorry, but if I give you one, I set a dangerous precedent. Next thing I know you’ll be asking me for a few fries and then a bite of my cheeseburger and a sip of my strawberry shake …

Me: Fine…

Otto: Maybe you should get a napkin holder… To help you organize…

Me: Thanks, Otto…

Otto: Or monogrammed napkins…

Me: Okay, Otto…