Every Office Has One...

Obviously, I find many things about corporate America to be completely absurd. Ridiculous. Just plain stupid. But, if I had to make a list of my biggest annoyances, there would be a hand's down winner for number one:

The office suck-up. Butt kisser. Brown noser.

You know the type:

• Play every angle to get ahead.
• Have zero loyalty to anyone.
• Go over the top to make themselves look good.
• Constantly seek affirmation and pay undo compliments to get it.
• Take credit for everything, regardless of level of involvement.
• Just generally being someone you constantly want to run over in the parking lot or shove down the elevator shaft.

There is at least one in every department. My personal favorite story about the resident brown noser involves this coworker who literally invented the "Look How Busy I Am" game. I think I'll call her Sludge. I've never met anyone who whined and cried and sobbed about how busy she constantly was, when in reality, she maybe had 90 minutes of work to keep her busy each day. She played the game so well that even her boss bought it.

She was a brown noser because she took credit for *everything.* I'm surprised she didn't expect thanks for making the sun rise each morning. Part of what made Sludge the ultimate brown noser was her ability to take on the extra projects and make it seem like a total sacrifice on her end. In reality, she could have taken on every extra project in the building, including cleaning the bathrooms, because she didn't have any work to do.

During one meeting with the publisher, Sludge dominated the conversation for 15 minutes, talking about how her "team" did pretty much everything except run the printing press. The rest of us at the table just stared in disbelief, wondering what kind of alternate universe Sludge actually lived in. I was really wondering which "team" she was referring to. She didn't manage anyone, and we didn't work in "teams," so unless she had a family of mice under her desk, the team reference was quite idiotic.

As luck would have it, Sludge was constantly so busy and overwhelmed with work, that she couldn't find the time to learn the new software that had just been implemented. And during all of her extreme busyness, she never stopped to think that she might just "work" herself right out of a job. Which is exactly what happened. She's probably still convinced that she was wrongfully terminated.

I mean really, how often does the office suck-up get what's coming to them? Unfortunately, not often enough.

Food Horror Stories from the Office

So, a long time ago, right out of college, I was a coffee drinker. I would drink my morning coffee at work, poured from the community coffee pot, into my favorite coffee mug, and happily start my day. When I was done with my coffee, I would wash my mug at the community sink and set it on my desk to dry. The community sink was shared by the entire first floor. The sink had one of those sponges that was attached to a handle filled with soap. I used that sponge every day for almost two years.

One morning, I arrived at work a little earlier that usual. I walked down the hall, past the sink, and happened to glance over and see one of the proofreaders at the sink. She was washing her fish bowl. She was washing her fish bowl WITH THE SPONGE THAT WAS ATTACHED TO A HANDLE FILLED WITH SOAP!

I stopped and stared and pictured what that fish bowl had looked like the day before when I had been in her cube. Let's just say that it was nearly impossible to see from one side of the bowl to the other because it was so cloudy with fish poop and slime. And then I started to dry heave and nearly tossed up my Cheerios.

And that is why I stopped drinking coffee for several years. I kept seeing fish bowl floaties in my coffee and I just couldn't drink it. Is there a moral to the story? I think it would have to be to use extreme caution when utilizing any kind of "community" anything at the office.

I've always been very bewildered by the lunch stealers at the office. You know, the people who help themselves to whatever they want in the 'fridge. I mean really, how the heck do you know what you're getting?! And then you have the annoying people who reheat fish in the microwave and make the entire building smell like Shedds Aquarium. And how can anyone forget the smell of burned microwave popcorn? How hard is it to cook microwave popcorn appropriately? Very, apparently. That's a smell that tends to linger. For days.

Speaking of the microwave, what about the people who put their lunch in the microwave and then disappear? I remember when I lived in the dorm at college and the unwritten rule was if you left your laundry in the washer or dryer, it was fair game. Does the same rule apply to Lean Cuisines in the office microwave?

One of my favorite work food stories involves the case of the disappearing fruit. Whenever I would leave a piece of fruit in my cube, it would always be gone the next morning. And it wasn't just me, it was happening to all of my coworkers. We finally figured out that it had to be the cleaning crew. And that's when a brilliant idea popped into my head. A few years back, I had my wisdom teeth removed and for some reason, I had saved the giant plastic syringe that was included with my surgery. I filled the syringe with Tabasco sauce and injected an apple. I left it on my desk, feeling like the mean witch about to poison Snow White. Well, let's just say that the disappearing fruit stopped disappearing. Mystery solved.

Now that I have my own fish bowl, I have regular flashbacks to the sponge incident. I think The Husband is lucky enough to hear the story every single time he cleans the fish bowl. It kind of gives a whole new meaning to sponge worthy...

This One Time, Boss Gave me a Performance Review...

About a year ago, Boss (who had been my boss for all of four months at the time) had to give all of his direct reports a mid-year performance review. The whole concept of a review was completely absurd, considering Prison Media had been on a salary freeze for nearly half a decade. So, what's the point of a review if a salary increase isn't attached to work performance? But anyway, Boss scheduled a meeting to discuss my review and I went in thinking it would have to be good, as I'd been performing miracles for the last quarter. Well, wouldn't you know, Boss surprised me once again. While overall, my review was above average, he totally docked me in one area: Attitude.

Now, am I saying that I deserved an Attitude Gold Medal? Absolutely not. But, here's what's interesting: In the four months that Boss had been my boss, we had very little contact. There were emails, sure, but in-person conversations and phone conversations could be counted on one hand. Combined. And one of those was the pneumonia disaster, so that doesn't really count. And yet, based on those limited encounters, he managed to come up with this:

"While Kate does excellent work and is very efficient, I think she would be even more effective if she could be more positive in her attitude and comments in general."

I'm quite certain that I had never given Boss any indication of what I really thought about anything. So I was perplexed. When I asked him exactly what he was talking about, he couldn't come up with any specific examples, conversations, etc. I kept pressing him, and he came up with this gem:

Boss: "Well, someone told me they overheard you saying something negative about corporate."

Me: "What?! That's ridiculous. That would be hearsay and you can't put hearsay in my review. You heard something third-hand and you're calling it fact? You don't know what the context of the conversation was and if you didn't hear it directly, you can't dock me for it. You need to revise that section."

Boss: "I'm leaving it in there."

Me: "Well, then I'm not signing it because I don't agree with it. You can't use office gossip in my review."

Boss: "Well, that's your choice. It's really not that big of a deal. I'm sure we'll look back on this during your 2010 review and laugh!"

*****************************************************

Well, it's almost time for my 2010 review and I'm not laughing. That's not entirely true. I'm laughing for completely different reasons. I'm wondering if Boss will give performance reviews to the job stealers in India. Mainly, I find it utterly unbelievable that Boss knew at that time that there wouldn't be a 2010 review, and yet, he still wanted to stick it to me. In looking at my review, the goals and objectives are especially laughable. They're completely fictitious. Boss should have earned an A+ in creative writing for putting together this phony list of objectives. A couple of examples:

Future Objectives

Add to Skills: "I'd like to see Kate add to her production skills by working on and learning about other areas of the business such as video/audio editing."

Oops, he forgot to include blogging. Objective met.

Production Training for Team: "I'd like to see Kate take on the responsibility of training other members of the team who have taken on production responsibilities so their skills grow faster than they otherwise would."

Funny how this suddenly takes on a whole new meaning in light of everything that happened late last year. I'll have to say, with just a touch of sarcasm, it's a damn shame that objective wasn't met. But it kind of makes me wonder if he was laying the groundwork for the India Project.

On a positive note, under Quality of Work, Boss says: "Kate is extremely conscious of the quality of her work and turns in very high-quality finished products."

I'm gonna go way out on a limb and guess that the same can't be said about Prison Media's new buddies in Calcutta!

Party On!

Anyone who has worked in corporate America should have a favorite work party story. You know, the token drunk at the company Christmas party (sorry, I refuse to refer to them as "holiday" parties) who peed in the elevator. Or, the coworker who brought pickled beets and Captain Crunch to the office potluck. And then there's my personal favorite: the dreaded going away party. I was lucky enough to attend one of the most horrifically awful going away parties ever. Ever. (And no, it wasn't my own.)

Back at the famous book publisher in the late 90s:

The Director of Production, Roberta, resigned and some of my coworkers spent a good portion of their time planning the ultimate send off. Now, we all have different ideas when it comes to parties. What one person thinks is a fabulous party, someone else might find to be as enjoyable as a root canal. However, the overall party objective should be to make sure the party guests enjoy themselves and have fun. Well, this party was so ridiculously absurd and packed full of over-the-top schmaltz, that I've never forgotten it and most likely never will.

I should have known what was in store, as leading up to the party, the entire department put together a scrapbook for Roberta. Everyone was given their own page to design. Most people's pages were full of wonderful work memories and sappy poems about friendship and good byes and all of those other emotions invented by Hallmark to sell more cards. Mine was classic. I peeled a Bud Light label from a bottle of beer (empty, of course) and pasted it in the middle of my page. Then, from the bottom of my heart, I came up with these meaningful words: "It won't be the same without you here. Who's going to tease me about drinking beer? I wish you the best in all that you do. And remember, this Bud's for you." I signed my name at the bottom and placed it in the scrapbook with pride.

On party day, it all began in the top floor conference room with a "visiting hour." I walked in and immediately felt a funeral vibe. People were all dressed up and lumped together in groups of 4 or 5. Classical music played in the background, while the guests sampled mixed nuts and finger foods. Everyone was remembering their favorite work memories of Roberta and nobody's voice rose above a whisper. It was very odd and creepy. And it only got worse from there.

After the visiting hour, we had a catered lunch. Catered lunches were a big deal back then. When I say catered, I don't mean boxed lunches from the neighborhood deli complete with fruit and a cookie. I'm talking wedding reception food, if you were to hold your reception at the Elk's Club. The room was even set up like a wedding reception, and seated at the center of the head table was Roberta, all decked out in her party outfit, including a new, shiny tiara and sash(!).

Seated all around Roberta were her well-trained office lackeys who shed tears on command. You would have thought the CEO had just announced the company was bankrupt and we were all officially unemployed the way some of these pathetic individuals carried on. I kept looking around to see if anyone else found this whole scene disturbing, and it appeared like most people were paying close attention, their serious faces firmly on. And it definitely didn't seem like anyone was having fun.

And where was I during the lunch festivities? At a table near the back, provoking laughter at the most touching moments and cracking jokes at inappropriate times. If you ask me, a going away party should always include a keg and a juggler.

Just for the record, my best Roberta memory involves her telling the department "Our new policy is conform or die!" I zoned out for a moment and actually pictured myself being killed by a firing squad in the break room for refusing to conform.

She is also the same person who once made working every Saturday mandatory and said the only acceptable excuses for not being able to work were "You better be dead or getting married. Otherwise, you will be here working."

So why, exactly, was everyone in tears over her departure? I'm still wondering, 10+ years later...

It All Started at the Donut Shop

I'm digging deep into the archives again to tell this fantastic story:

Back at the Midwestern Publishing House in the late 90s

Just when I thought it couldn't possibly get any weirder, Oh-my-God it did! I recently learned that I was tape recorded by a fellow employee who was searching for the truth in an outdated scandal involving a married man, a mysterious note, a calculating psychopath, a Donut Shop clerk and one regretful act of adultery. And where did I fit into this story? Interestingly enough, I didn't!

The whole story started when Black Widow, who was engaged at the time to some guy who was trying to get a green card, started sleeping with the Dumb Jock, who was married with a baby on the way. This hot piece of gossip made its way around the office via the local Donut Shop. What?!

It happened like this:

The foreign fiancé found out about the affair. One morning, during his routine stop at the neighborhood Donut Shop, he decided to tell the clerk about what he had discovered. As it turned out, the woman in line behind the fiancé at the Donut Shop, let's call her Large Marge, just happened to work at the publishing house down the street. She recognized the fiancé, as he was a regular around the office. She connected the dots and suddenly realized she'd stumbled upon the biggest office scandal since Watergate. She burned rubber back to the office and immediately started blabbing about what she overheard in the Donut Shop. Now, I think that if you hear something in a public place, it becomes fair game. It's not like she was eavesdropping on a private phone call, right?

Black Widow thought I had something to do with the scandal breaking, as Large Marge and I lived in the same apartment complex. How that made me an accomplice, I have no idea.

Looking back, this all seems totally ridiculous. What kind of whack job tells a donut-selling stranger about his relationship problems? When you're seeking advice from the deadbeat at the Donut Shop, you have some serious issues!

And You Thought Your Coworkers Were Nuts...

I'm digging deep into the vault tonight to present the ultimate cast of characters. Once upon a time, before I worked at Prison Media, I worked for a famous book publisher in the Midwest. And believe me, my coworkers were the wackiest bunch of wackos anyone can imagine. Some days I actually wondered if I was part of some secret TV show, like Jim Carrey in The Truman Show, where everybody but me was in on the joke.

These are a few of my favorites, real names have been replaced:

Greg: Gay man who collected Barbies. He would be perfect on Queer Eye for the Straight Guy because of his fashion and grooming sense. One day he came to work and announced that he would be wearing a “uniform” from here on out. His uniform consisted of a white, long sleeve, button down shirt, khaki pants, black socks and black shoes. And for the rest of his days at the company, that is exactly what he wore, rain, snow, 90 degree days with high humidity, he always wore his uniform.

Ted: My second best work friend with the best ears in the building. Sexual orientation unknown. He literally invented the phrase "prairie dogging" which is the act of popping up over the cube wall to eavesdrop on a co-worker. Also the office mooch. He'd eat anything. Germs were not a factor.

Ed: The goofiest guy I've ever know. He was a total sports nut who organized a betting pool for everything. He also coined the term "Troff" which means time to eat and must be screamed, not spoken. He was also the coupon authority. And he did a perfect Squiggy impersonation. And his wardrobe? Someone once wondered aloud if Troff Boy owned any pants that zipped. He was a huge fan of TIGHT sweatpants, so the whole building always knew “how it was hanging” so to speak. This guy had a huge heart and he would never allow you to be bummed. He also housed a hilarious quote wall that could be a separate book.

Matilda: She had to be the oldest woman in the building. Either that, or she was 40 and looked 65, like an elementary school lunch lady. She was also the department narc and liked to record when her co-workers arrived, when they took lunch and how long that lunch lasted, who they spoke to on the phone and the length of the conversation, and what time they checked out for the day.

Bill: Resident psycho. There's one in every office and he deserves the honor at my company. Ever see Primal Fear? He is the main character. He can change personalities so quickly, it's terrifying. And, nobody's problems can compete with his. No matter how horrible your life is, he can top it.

Darcy: On the surface, she seemed naïve and quiet. Look a little closer, however, and you got the real Darcy. She used to smoke pot in the bathroom with a one-hitter pipe and she was mixed up with some pretty shady, decadent stuff. I think her boyfriend was really her pimp. The funny thing about her is one day she quit and moved to Salt Lake City, which always seemed to me like the last place she would want to be. An Amish person would be more at home in Vegas than Darcy would be in Mormon Country.

Kandi: Our fearless, backstabbing leader, who had no control and earned zero respect. She barely waited until you were out of her office before she started gossiping about you. Look up moody in the dictionary and you’ll see Kandi. She had a certain glare and when you got the glare from her, you wanted to crawl under your desk and die.

Debbie: White trash in nice clothes. Enough said. She is somebody who would kick your ass at a NASCAR race for bad mouthing her favorite driver. The term rough around the edges is too kind for her. She is the worst kind of white trash: The kind who doesn’t realize she is straight out of the trailer park. Oh, and her office was decorated with dolphins. They were everywhere.

Laney: The female Beeker. She is the oddest person I have ever encountered. She wears moon boots to work and talks to herself. I'm convinced she has imaginary friends. Here's a sample of one of her bizarre emails: "yesterday after work i went to the Dairy Queen at 71st and 37, but it was closed. Don't know if this is just a temporary problem, or one with more permanent implications; but i wanted to share with others, just in case. thank you."

Carlton: Resident stoner. This guy showed up to work in the morning too stoned to speak. At lunch he'd go out to his car and smoke up some more. By the end of the day, his cube was littered with fast food wrappers and he had a permanent smirk on his face.

Marvin: Resident Black Panther. He used his cubicle to run his own business that printed literature on black power. He talked on the phone so much that he ordered a headset from Office Depot, which was interesting considering that our job required little, if no, outside communication. He also came up with the most creative excuses as to why he couldn't work. My favorite: "My head hurts so bad I can't see. I think I'm going blind."

Monopoly, Anyone?

Ever notice the similarities between board games and corporate America? At times, it seems as if decisions are as random as the roll of the dice. And careers are determined by which square the thimble lands on. Budgets seem to be made with fake money and certain people should go directly to jail. Some players are destined to be Park Place, while others will never escape the Reading Railroad. Most times, we just wander through each week, crossing the train tracks, paying taxes and stopping at Go to collect our paychecks. I’ve always been a Baltic Avenue in a world of Boardwalks and I suppose that says a lot about my experiences in corporate America.

And what about Chutes and Ladders, the Corporate Edition? Just as in the childhood classic, there are only two places to go in corporate America: up and down. Sometimes those at the bottom can actually get to the top, but rarely do those at the top take the long plunge down the chute. Why is that exactly? I can think of quite a few players who needed to slide down the chute and stay there.

How about a corporate edition of Clue? There is some serious fun to be had by staging a murder mystery at the office: It was Editor, in the conference room, with a 10-pound thesaurus! Or, it was Art Director, in the elevator, with an Exacto knife! No wait, it was Boss, in the break room, with a Jello mold!