This morning, Teeth announced repeatedly and at high volume that she was leaving the office around 9:00 a.m. for a "personal appointment." She and the Asshole Boyfriend were attending couples counselling, and when she returned around noon, she brought with her buckets of deeply personal information that no-one except Yvette wanted to hear.
I turned my hearing aid off and blissfully heard none of it.
Then, later in the afternoon, Hitler said, "What's that smell?", covered her nose and bolted for the front door. She remained outside the building for ten minutes and was ultimately sent home early. (She's one of these sensitive to smells women.) Apparently, someone had opened a can of solvent or something. I never caught a whiff, even though I share a pod with Hitler (now there's a sentence you don't read everyday--"I share a pod with Hitler").
Ultimately, Teeth consulted with one of the managers and we were all sent home about an hour early (Yvette was out the door within five minutes of Teeth making the announcement, which means she was shagging the dog already or didn't finish her end of day reports in her mad scramble for the door.)
Honest to Christ, I have never seen so much drama over a smell (that didn't come from me).
I've been thinking I should change Hitler's name to something more suitable. She isn't really Hitler-esque, she's much more like Eeyore. I mean, I like her (I'm one of the few), but she's one of those people who complains about her circumstances, but when you suggest ways for her to change things, she's got excuses as to why she can't. So her life is just one long valley of shadows and a veil of tears. But she obviously likes it like that.
I turned my hearing aid off and blissfully heard none of it.
Then, later in the afternoon, Hitler said, "What's that smell?", covered her nose and bolted for the front door. She remained outside the building for ten minutes and was ultimately sent home early. (She's one of these sensitive to smells women.) Apparently, someone had opened a can of solvent or something. I never caught a whiff, even though I share a pod with Hitler (now there's a sentence you don't read everyday--"I share a pod with Hitler").
Ultimately, Teeth consulted with one of the managers and we were all sent home about an hour early (Yvette was out the door within five minutes of Teeth making the announcement, which means she was shagging the dog already or didn't finish her end of day reports in her mad scramble for the door.)
Honest to Christ, I have never seen so much drama over a smell (that didn't come from me).
I've been thinking I should change Hitler's name to something more suitable. She isn't really Hitler-esque, she's much more like Eeyore. I mean, I like her (I'm one of the few), but she's one of those people who complains about her circumstances, but when you suggest ways for her to change things, she's got excuses as to why she can't. So her life is just one long valley of shadows and a veil of tears. But she obviously likes it like that.
3 comments:
I work with someone who whinges on and on like that. You know that cliche about men and women's miscommunication, that women just want to share and get things off the chest, but men assume they're asking for advice on how to fix a problem?
That woman turns me into a man - I start to interrupt her and suggest fixes and she either ignores or dismisses every suggestion.
Makes me want to tell her 'Get out of my gender! You're making us look bad!'
Amen, Batgirl!
I'd bet money she'll come in tomorrow complaining of the migraine that the smell gave her.
"Sad Sack" from Beetle Bailey seems apropos, too (for a suitable nickname change from Hitler).
Re: Batgirl and her coworker... I am in the same boat w/JabippyLoo (the same co-irker who has emailed me a picture of her morning bowel movement sans TP--why? I DO NOT KNOW), who has never met a pyramid scheme or mass marketing concept she didn't like (and didn't fall prey to). For a multitude of reasons I shall not inventory herein, she's just as toxic as who you describe. And mind you, this isn't to be confused w/the slacker, who sits at her desk doing nothing, not even answering the phone, yet manages to paint her nails at her desk. I'm afraid every single workplace has one or two of these useless twats.
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