General, Workplace Humor

Where do they come from?

Sometimes I believe that companies scour the sewers of human depravity to fill their lower ranks. To keep myself from going on another interoffice safari I periodically walk the call center area of our fine establishment to clear my head. Today I noticed someone quite odd.

Now step back with me for a quick minute. When you have a call center you do have the distinct advantage of keeping your employees hidden from view, shielded behind miles of copper telephone cable lost in a veritable maze of cubicles. They strip your identity and assign you a number, as if your name wasn’t good enough. These employees are nothing more than another coppertop, another 9 volts powering its self-contained capitalistic machine.

With this being said does that validate our hiring methods. Do we feel the need to just hire anyone to keep our cost down? Why brings me to this tangent?

Yesterday on my walk I noticed an older gentleman. His entire job every day is customer interaction. Imagine him as our company’s personal ambassador to YOUR home. Now picture him if you will.

He’s older, 60-65. Salt & Pepper hair combed over to mask the top of his head, which can only be described as a personal solar panel. His hair is long enough to touch halfway down his shoulders, and looks to be practically dripping with an amalgamation of Bril Cream & Olive Oil. Powder blue turtleneck under a sports jacket, you know the kind with the fake suede elbow patches. The ones designed to convince you friends that your more sophisticated than you really are, like they are going to believe that you actually ride horses and go on fox hunts during the weekends. His eyes actually mildly point in separate directions when relaxed. You never really know if he’s looking at you or just over your shoulders. Both of them at the same time! His beard is constantly in the 1.75-day’s unshaved stage. Finally the “coup de gra”. The first thing you notice about him. The reason you can find him in any maze of cubicles. Why I can trail him down any hallway and always be just out of sight. Around his neck hangs dangling, gaudy, platinum, shiny, oversized, replica of Jesus. That’s right, in complete anguish with full crown of thorns.

This is why companies have call centers. Shielding these people from view. Think about it. What would you do if he showed up at your door to discuss your next bill?

General, Workplace Humor

You touch you mom with that hand?

Work again was knawing at the back of my head, projects stacking up like that infernal Jenga game. The risk taker i am i pull the bottom outer block and close my eyes. My work day crashed uncontrollably, allegations flying, fingers pointing and excuses in more abundance that babies at a Rabbit convention in spring. I never claimed to be a fortunate man.

That’s it, i need a break, some solice before i strip down to my boxers, climb atop the cubical walls and hunt my co-workers with makeshift Bolas fashioned from Cat 5 cable and thoes soft foam stress balls. Yea you got it, i hang in the shadows of burnt out florecent lights picking out all thoes people who think the network color printer is their own personal Kinkos. Leaving me as the underpaid minimum wage monkey clearing their paper jams.

** I am Shaun’s loathing of human contact **

Sorry for the tangent. Anyway, i go to the only place i can be comfortable the men’s room. Didn’t you guess it? The men’s room is like a special club, complete with it’s own secret handshake. ;) In the men’s room you can be yourself. People don’t size you up, put on facades. There are certain fact’s you must face while you are there though. Every man passes gas while at the urinal, it’s just accepted.

For instance:
Man A Leaves cubical B going 1.76 mph down Hallway Z to said Mens Room Q. Man A approaches urinal at 1:38 EST. Man C already at urinal E enters conversation G with Man A. Man A winded from Distance Z – B * 1.76 mph passes gas ** I am Shauns contempt for word problems **. How long is the pause in A and C’s conversation?

0, all men fart at the urinal

Anyway i am standing and releasing all my built up stress, OH and about 64 oz of Mt. Dew. The guy next to me is what i like to call a Urinal Rainman. He won’t talk or even react, just staring forward at the soothing white tiles, probably muttering, “Woppner at 4:30, Gotta se woppner”. So he Pee’s and imitates a OCD laiden nut job. To each their own. But, my point. Yes there is a reason for the rambling.

His cell phone ring’s, during his secret handshake. At this point i am at the sink, as the gem i am i go to the end to leave him room. After he finishes he answers the phone and leaves tha mens room. NO WASHING OF HANDS!!! LIVID.

He walked around all day, meeting and greeting. Basically saying, “Try my secret handshake”. Nobody wants to shake his pants. People like that make me want to vomit, except im not that self centered.

** I am Shauns complete cleanliness **