OC: one of the reasons I didn't used to make coffee with this thing is that I thought the cups went into the coffee that was being made!
me: [already walking away] ohw, now.. that wouldn't be good.
[at this point, I cant decide whether to use the hand not carrying my coffee to a) rip my ears off b) gouge my eyes out c) knock at my head repeatedly because surely I could Not have correctly heard what she just said d) all of the above at the same time]
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OC: y'know what I have at home that I bought last week? Triscuits!! I haven't had them in so long.
[approx time since she last mentioned Triscuits in the office: 2 weeks]
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OC: Oh, I cant handle this, it's too much work!
office-lady-#1: what's wrong?
OC: I dont know why all these T1 orders are assigned to me.
office-lady-#2: well.. you were hired when DM left and she handled all the T1 orders.
OC: really? I think there's probably more work now.
office-lady-#1: no, there's the same. well, actually, there's less, for you, since we (the other office ladies) now do some of your... some of the T1 orders also.
office-lady-#3: It's true.
OC: I dont know how it's all supposed to get done.
[pause]
OC: wanna switch workloads?
office-lady-#2: Yes! please! you can do my DS0 orders AND the T1's I do for you.
office-lady-#1: Yeah! me too... Lord knows I had enough to do befo [bites her tongue before she can say: before I had to do some of your work too]
OC: really?
office-lady-#4: it's true, look at the [work]load balancing reports... your section is tiny.
OC: wow, well it doesn't feel like it.
office-lady-#2: yeah well
[they all walk away before strangling her. I try not to giggle with delight. this is the closest anyone has come to confronting the validity of her complaints. sadly, she Still does not accept that she's doing the least work here and crying the most about it]
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OC: My favorite Warren Zevon song! Lawyers, Guns and Money!
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OC has, for the past few months, been doing so nails-on-a-chalkboard-ing-ly annoying, I haven't been able to describe it for fear that it may be used later as evidence for my justifiably murdering her: Baby-talking. No, not baby-talking to a baby over the phone or in some sorta kinky talk with a boyfriend and as far as I can tell, there are never any babies in the office when she does it. What does she say? Well, picture a 50something lady baby-talking nonsense words. It's really that simple. Eyw Goo Gaaa. Mya Mew Nya Neya. Nyey Nyaa Neyyy. Sigh... I'm not doing the annoying-level justice.
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OC: If I have to deal with SBC again, I am going to jump out that window. if you think I'm kidding, I'm not.
[at this point, I consider calling her, pretending to be an SBC representative]
and then comes... the pinnacle of inappropriateness that DM never Ever had.
OC: I'd rather have full blown AIDS than deal with SBC.
me: [gasp] OC?!?? Seriously! can you watch what you say in the office???? Not Cool. c'mon.
[I'm still reeling. I can
[and I just received this CYA (cover-your-arse instant message from her]
OC [9:49 AM]: sorry didn't mean to offend you
Me [9:50 AM]: it's just one of those lines that shouldn't be crossed.
me [9:50 AM]: you didn't offend me, it was just, well... offensive
OC [9:51 AM]: you are very right and pretty twisted if you think about it
[wait. am I pretty twisted? or what she said is twisted? lord, help me]
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