The Sniffing Incident
In honor of Crazy Bob and I being the only two in the office tonight, I've decided to go ahead and tell the story that made Crazy Bob crazy.
Ya see, I've been working here going on...two years. When I first started I had just completed my freshman year of college. I was one of three students picked to work part-time (Thanks Mom) and the only female college student on our shift. Unless you count Big Gay Al who worked C-shift also. But he wasn't technically a chick, he just acted and dressed like one.
Anyway, so I had just completed my training and was still trying to get used to working in an office for 8hours a day with a bunch of people I was convinced were crazy, when my Boss (Who will just be called THE BOSS from now on b/c she likes to think of herself as affiliated with the mob) decided I should be trained in sorting.
Sorting is not as ominous as I'm making it sound I just don't like doing it. It's alot of going through reports and deciphering illegible cop-handwriting and making unnecessary copies to go in trays that are all marked the same but are somehow different and if you get it wrong you're going straight to HELL!
So I'm standing at the copy machine sorting, minding my own business, fantasizing about unicorns and rainbows and peace on earth, when THE BOSS looks over at me and the oddest expression crosses her face.
I'll never forget it. Horror, disgust, fascination, humor and fury all crossed her flushed expression in a matter of moments. It was like in a movie when the hero walks in on her enemy doing something totally nasty and unforgivable with his hostage.
Like a trainwreck of emotions just splattered across her face, and for the life of me I had no idea what had caused it, but I couldn't seem to work up the courage to look behind me. Because of course it was something horrible standing behind me. It always is.
Finally, THE BOSS snapped herself out of the catatonic state whatever it was behind me had put her in and screeched, "Bob get the hell away from her!"
My own catatonic state slipped away with those words and I flipped around to see Crazy Bob leaning over me...sniffing my hair.
I say again, SNIFFING MY HAIR.
Two years later, Crazy Bob has yet to live down the "Sniffing Incident" as it is referred to.
Whenever a new person is brought onto the shift they are indoctrinated into our little crew with stories of office mayhem, hellish sorting and pervey sniffing.
Ya see, I've been working here going on...two years. When I first started I had just completed my freshman year of college. I was one of three students picked to work part-time (Thanks Mom) and the only female college student on our shift. Unless you count Big Gay Al who worked C-shift also. But he wasn't technically a chick, he just acted and dressed like one.
Anyway, so I had just completed my training and was still trying to get used to working in an office for 8hours a day with a bunch of people I was convinced were crazy, when my Boss (Who will just be called THE BOSS from now on b/c she likes to think of herself as affiliated with the mob) decided I should be trained in sorting.
Sorting is not as ominous as I'm making it sound I just don't like doing it. It's alot of going through reports and deciphering illegible cop-handwriting and making unnecessary copies to go in trays that are all marked the same but are somehow different and if you get it wrong you're going straight to HELL!
So I'm standing at the copy machine sorting, minding my own business, fantasizing about unicorns and rainbows and peace on earth, when THE BOSS looks over at me and the oddest expression crosses her face.
I'll never forget it. Horror, disgust, fascination, humor and fury all crossed her flushed expression in a matter of moments. It was like in a movie when the hero walks in on her enemy doing something totally nasty and unforgivable with his hostage.
Like a trainwreck of emotions just splattered across her face, and for the life of me I had no idea what had caused it, but I couldn't seem to work up the courage to look behind me. Because of course it was something horrible standing behind me. It always is.
Finally, THE BOSS snapped herself out of the catatonic state whatever it was behind me had put her in and screeched, "Bob get the hell away from her!"
My own catatonic state slipped away with those words and I flipped around to see Crazy Bob leaning over me...sniffing my hair.
I say again, SNIFFING MY HAIR.
Two years later, Crazy Bob has yet to live down the "Sniffing Incident" as it is referred to.
Whenever a new person is brought onto the shift they are indoctrinated into our little crew with stories of office mayhem, hellish sorting and pervey sniffing.
Labels: Workin' Hard or Hardly Workin'?
This entry was posted
on 16.6.06 at 4:59 PM.
You can skip to the end and leave a response.
» Post a Comment