Disclaimer – If you think I’m talking about you, then chances are I am.
Well, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way… let me tell you about my five least favorite co-workers. I’m sure everybody has that “one” person, or a “couple” of people who they work with, that if murder was legal, then they would have dropped their body in sulfuric acid a long time ago. You know who I’m talking about…the person who sits in the cube next to you and talks louder than Roscoe Dash on the phone; or, your cubicle mate who can’t seem to to tell the difference between his/her indoor and outdoor voice, while singing along to whatever is playing in their headphones.
Here is the irony, you can’t escape them. No matter where you work, there is always going to be someone who makes it hard for you – that’s what she said to make it through the day without thoughts of strangulation dancing in your head. Truth be told, whether you know it or not, you might just be that person. So, to show off my counting and list making skills, I present to you Breazy’s five co-workers who I wish would go play on the freeway during rush hour.
You know the type… the type of “motherlover” who will send 10 emails just to say five words. They think they are being thorough, when in reality, they are just being an asshole. It doesn’t take six emails to say, “I’m out of paper.”
The Anxious Worrier.
This is the person who starts to worry once something doesn’t go according to plan. Once they worry, then they become anxious; and once they become anxious, then they cause everyone around them to get antsy. Just because you pushed on a door that clearly states pull, does not mean the world is coming to an end.
Look, it’s cool that you are a healthy person and you eat natural foods, but that doesn’t give you the right to stuff the refrigerator with six bags of everything from your home garden. This isn’t the Garden of Eden. Not only is that selfish, but this is the same person who will leave in the fridge for a month, a bag of Romaine lettuce or withered fruits and veggies.
The Burnt Popcorn Popper (at 3:00 in the afternoon)
How is it that your ass hasn’t mastered popping popcorn yet? If you haven’t learned by now that three minutes is two minutes too long, then I don’t know what to tell you. Either you don’t care and you like burnt popcorn, or you ate paint chips while growing up. Either way, you and Waka Flocka are a special kind of stupid.
Intimate talker (personal space invader)
I’m going to tell you right now that everything is not a hotdamn secret. So, why the hell are you close enough that my eyes are starting to cross when I’m looking at you? There is absolutely no need for you to be close enough for me to smell your three day old carcass breath. Give me 40 feet and an ounce of space, and while you’re at it, please use a tic tac before burning my nose hairs first thing in the morning.
That’s it. That’s all I kind of think of, partly because I could go on for days. Did I miss anyone? Who are the type of co-workers that you hate?
Talk to me, I’ll talk back.