Thursday, October 30, 2008

The Delights of Office Work

As I sit here this morning my mind is going a billion different directions. It's 8:22 am as I begin to write this. I've actually switched back and forth between an audiobook and music on my iPod several times because I just can't decide which one is more destructive to my concentration. Normal people who read that would think "just don't listen to anything if you can't concentrate because of it." That's easier said than done around here, if I don't have earbuds in somebody will be talking to me or I'll be distracted by the guy in the cube next to me hammering on his keyboard like he's settling a vendetta. I really didn't suspect a computer keyboard could handle that sort of abuse, it honestly sounds like he's taken a stapler or a tape dispenser and is slamming it on the keyboard in the midst of some sort of seizure-like fit. On top of the typing habit he was also suffering a defect that doesn't allow his body to regulate temperature at all. He's sweating so says he, it's so hot in here says he as well. He thinks that I should be sweating too and doesn't understand why I'm not. The fucking snow on the ground outside the 10 foot high, 20 foot wide, single pane window 2 feet behind me might have something to do with it. Anyhow, apparently because I'm not sweating (it's fucking 20 degrees outside at best and not much better in here) that makes me a "pussy." This is what you get when you mix rednecks and education. You don't always get what you would expect, or at least what I would expect. I would think, no more redneck, education should be penicillin for redneckism. Not the case, you actually just get a guy who acts like a construction worker with the ability to do some level of intellectual work in between talking about hunting, toilet jokes, and calling others adolescent names. This guy is amusing to have sitting in the cube next to you but not good for accomplishing things. Anyhow, where was I... oh yes, since I am apparently less of a man because I would prefer to not be cold if I can avoid it, I'm sitting here with a small portable heater literally 7 inches from my arm on my eleven o'clock. I'm wearing a fleece and haven't taken my hat off. The hat is also apparently "gay" as well as several other derogatory things. Apparently because it's not camoflauge. Actually it's one of these

The only difference is that mine is white and says "Element" which does in fact says my redneck co-worker, mean something to do with wiggerdom but he is unsure what. Are you seeing the point? Now, that aside, it's not that I'm freezing, it's just that I would rather be warm and I happen to be comfortable. Now it's not that I give a shit if his body can't regulate temperature, that's not what's annoying. What is annoying is the fact that he'll turn on the goddamn air conditioner since for the first hour of the day because he isn't happy so nobody can be happy and we're the only two here. This fucking asshole wouldn't be comfortable unless he was sitting in a bucket of ice cubes in a freezer in Siberia in the dead of winter. I blame this on an unhappy marriage that I hear about every day for at least 1 hour out of the day. "What does a shitty marriage have to do with it" you probably ask. Because he hates his wife he spends all of his time in "the great outdoors" and thus away from home, making his best attempt to kill as many of anything as possible. Killing things, in the forest, in Pennsylvania, means that most of the things he kills must be killed in very cold months of the year so he's used to it. As for the killing, he'll kill anything, with anything he's allowed to use, any chance he gets, for not reason other than he likes to make things dead. If it is alive he will happily end it's life because in his world the more you kill the more manly you get to feel like you are. Since his wife is fat and hateful and annoying and he wants nothing to do with touching her (it's probably a reciprocal feeling... though I've seen her and she is fat indeed), he can't use sex to satisfy his manly urges so he compensates as a dealer of death to lesser creatures with no defenses. He takes the greatest pleasure from this that I imagine to be possible. I cannot wrap my mind around what the hell could bring so much delight out of ending some animal for no reason, especially if I had to sit for seven hours in the snow to do it. He actually spends an hour out of every day talking to me about hunting, guns, hunting calls, hunting decoys, hunting buddies, hunting trips, and other assorted bullshit about which I do not care the least bit. Two more hours will be spent near lunch time talking to hunting buddies on the company phone on company time about what they are currently in the forest and attempting to kill. On the bright side of life there are other people here in the office now so there's no chance he'll get the air conditioner on. The women in this office have just the opposite problem from my redneck amigo. When they get here their bodies don't make any heat at all, like snakes. Soon the thermostat will reach a maximum of somewhere near 125 degrees, the plastic cover will begin to melt, and the flames blazing out of the heating ducts will scorch and blacken the walls like we're all working in a steel mill in hell. He'll complain, they'll complain, and back and forth they'll go all day turning the thermostat up and down, up and down, up and down in a terrifying and physically sickening battle of temperature extremes intended to seize control of my soul. Ahh, the delights of office work, somebody kill me.

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