Jay Z Got 99 Problems But Craig’s List Ain’t One

Ahh, the time honored tradition of taking a nice 30 minute break with your co-workers to eat leftovers from last nights dinner while talking about mind-numbingly inane topics is order to forget what is sitting back at your desk waiting for you.

That’s right, I’m talking lunch.

I have been a part of a lunch group ever since I started with my current company. And I have to say, it’s pretty nice to be sitting at a table with some people instead of awkwardly sitting at my own table wishing I wasn’t eating alone. Remember who those kids were in grammar school? I don’t think much changes for them when they grow up…

Throughout my 2.5+ years of working here I have seen a lot of changes happen with the lunch group. People join and people leave. In the face of the most recent round of economy induced layoffs the two most popular (yes, I know I sound like I am in 4th grade) lunch groups came together and formed some sort of mega-lunch council which takes over half of the lunch room at 1:00 p.m. every day. And I am part of this mega-lunch group.

But something tells me that there might be too many people eating together now. Not only do we need one table, but sometimes two. And while it is awesome that so many people can come together and gossip about others in the company or what happened on “Dancing with the Stars” last night, trying to hear what is happening on the other side of the table can be difficult.

And today I was presented with a perfect example of this which I will present in script format for lack of a better layout…

INT – LUNCH ROOM – NOON
A group of co-workers sit around two round lunch table that have been pushed together, forming a figure-eight surrounded by chairs. At one end of the table (end A) there is a discussion going on about the CRIAG’S LIST KILLER. I don’t actually remember what was being discussed down at my end of the table (end B.

Co-Worker #1 (End A)
So I heard his fiancé is still in love with him, even though he killed all those people on Craig’s List.

Co-Worker #2 (End B)
Jay Z?

At this point everyone looks at Co-Worker #2 like she is crazy. That is, until we start to reconstruct what happened.

See, it seems that Co-Worker #2 thought she heard that “Beyonce” was still in love with someone even though he was the Craig’s List Killer. And since Beyonce is married to Jay Z, she just assumed that we had found out that Jay Z was the Craig’s List Killer.

This is what happens when the lunch group gets too large to support a normal stream of conversation. But short of holding a Survivor like tribal council to vote people off I think we are stuck with the number we have now.

At least I know we will have some fun conversations in the future.

~The Office Scribe

Manic Monday #4

I really hope the people who design clip art don’t fancy themselves artists because 90% of it looks like it was made by a pre-schooler who drew it with the crayon still stuck up his nose.

Guess what? If you highlight everything on a page nothing stands out anymore. The only thing you have drawn my attention to is the fact that you use a purple highlighter, the most obnoxious highlighter color of all.

It is my personal belief that bathrooms should be a no-talking zone. You know why I am in there and it isn’t to talk about your grandchildren.

I wonder how many paperclips are thrown away each year because of people like me who take the clop off a stack of papers, place it on the desk, then realize an hour later that they have straightened the whole thing or shaped it into their initials in a fit of boredom.

Yes, I am wearing footwear that violates dress code policy. And no, I didn’t do it on purpose. This is what happens when I come into work after a long weekend at my lake house. You should all just be grateful I remembered pants.

Overheard in the office – “I need your nose” – Possibly had to do with a perfume sample but I can’t safely make that assumption.

The Terra Cotta Warrior I bought this past weekend might for my desk is bad-assed. But he is still not king of the chachkes. That honor belongs to Jim Thome Bobblehead because he is awesome and carries his own bat.

Thank God For That Creative Writing Degree

So over at Mattress Police there is a weekly caption contest, and guess what?

I won this week!

And yes, I do consider this the first writing contest I have ever won and when I publish my first of many novels I will mention this in my biography that talk radio show hosts are given before they interview me right between the weather report and the drive times on the Ike.

So thanks to everyone who voted for me. Your checks are in the mail.

~The Office Scribe

Best Domestic Violence Ringtone EVER!!!

Someone in one of our offices overseas is named Luca and one of my co-workers commented about how he liked that name.

But I heard the name Luca and instead of thinking how interesting it was I thought “Isn’t that the name of a song by Susan Vega?”

Turns out I was right. Overshadowed by her famous song which I can’t remember the name of but goes something like Do Do DO Do do do do DO Do Do Do DoDO, “My name is Luca” was a song about a child, well, being beaten. So I pulled up the lyrics to see exactly what the song was about.

Here are the lyrics for those unfamiliar with this happy little ditty:

My name is luca
I live on the second floorI
live upstairs from you
Yes i think you've seen me before
If you hear something late at night
Some kind of trouble, some kind of fight

Just don't ask me what it was (3x)

I think it's 'cause i'm clumsy
I try not to talk too loud
Maybe it's because i'm crazy
I try not to act too proud
They only hit until you cry
And after that you don't ask why

You just don't argue anymore (3x)

Yes i think i'm okay
I walked into the door again
If you ask that's what i'll say
And it's not your business anyway
I guess i'd like to be alone
With nothing broken, nothing thrown

Just don't ask me how i am (3x)

My name is luca
I live on the second floor
I live upstairs from you
Yes i think you've seen me before
If you hear something late at night
Some kind of trouble, some kind of fight

Just don't ask me what it was(3x)

They only hit until you cry
And after that you don't ask why

You just don't argue anymore (3x)

The best part? The fact that at the top of the website where I found the lyrics was an advertisement to have this song sent to your phone to use as a ringtone. How twisted do you have to be to want to hear a song about child abuse every time someone calls you? That has to rank right up there in popularity with “Rape Me” by Nirvana and “American Pie” by Don McLean (It’s about people dying in a plane crash, I don’t care how cool you think it is to sing when you get drunk. Like I did. At a wedding. This past weekend.)

You can tell so much about a person based on their ringtone.

~The Office Scribe

Oh, It’s Fine Until I Run Out Of Fuel

Ever feel like you are in some sort of holding pattern? Like if you spread your arms like airplane wings you could circle your office for hours, unsure of when you would land, only coming back down to earth after your engines sputtered and you crashed into a marshy borderland*…

Okay, perhaps I am being a bit dramatic but I feel like there are a million things I should be doing but I can’t because I am waiting on answers from co-workers. And chances are those co-workers are waiting on answers from people on the other side of the planet, who are either waiting on answers themselves or ignoring the pleas, hoping we will go away.

I think this is why I could never be in charge of a business. I have no patience when it comes to waiting for people to get back to me. There is a wonderful little feature on Outlook where when you get an e-mail a small yellow envelope pops up in the lower right hand corner of the screen. I am compulsive in the way I check for new e-mails. Chances are if you send me an e-mail you will have one back from me in less than ten minutes with either an answer or telling you I need more time to find an answer.

How difficult is that?

Well, if you are any number of people that I deal with on a daily basis apparently getting back to me in a reasonable amount of time ranks right up there with turning coal into diamonds. It ain’t going to get done until I apply pressure for an extended period of time. (Or until I gain the powers of Superman and can crush you with my hand until you do my bidding.)

Sorry if I seem a little whiny today. Wednesday are not my favorite day of the week.

~The Office Scribe

* Note: This is one of those plane crash scenarios where no one is really injured. In my mind you get an adrenaline pumping ride on the way down and then get to exit the plane on one of those neat yellow bouncy slides. So yes, my warped perception of a plane crash compares it to more of a county fair than a horrific tragedy. Unless there are clowns. Then we are right back to horrific tragedy.

I Guess Roaches Don’t Hold MBA’s

The topic of my mother’s daily phone call to me was about the discussion she had with the guy who lives next door about her ant problem. See, for the past couple weeks ants of varying sizes has been crawling through the first floor of her house. From what we can tell, they are coming up through the electrical outlets because that is where we see a lot of dead ones. Our neighbor told her the ants were because the house is relatively new and she might have them, cringe, living in the walls.

Ewww.

He said that after his house was built they called out the Orkin man who sprayed the entire house. He said that it was like a biblical plague when the ants all came POURING out of the walls. Apparently there were so many you could hear them.

This lovely discussion, which I am sure will make it impossible for me to ever get a decent nights sleep at my mom’s place ever again, got me to thinking.

Why are there no bugs in my office?

In the 8 months we have been in this building I have never seen a bug. Not an ant, fly, mosquito, or anything. Not even a cobweb and I don’t think it is because of the fabulous cleaning crew we have. (Remember the Cheeto?) I thought this was amazing, that this place was so sealed from the outside would that no bugs could get in.

But then, as usual, I couldn’t live in that happy little place that I had to seek out the dark side that constitutes about 97% of my brain.

Why don’t we have bugs in the office? There are always massive amounts of sugary foods that would have flies on it in an instant of I left it out at my house. But here chunks of birthday cake and sit until they petrify. Rotten food hangs out in garbage cans and sugar spilled on the countertops are never fleck with ants.

So I came to the conclusion that the air which I breathe for a good 8-9 hours each day has to be so stale that it can’t support the same type of life that would survive a nuclear blast. That perhaps they use chemicals so toxic to kill insects that if one of my co-workers gave birth to an Ewok it wouldn’t be that surprising. That my office isn’t as attractive to start a blowfly colony in, as say, a corpse? (Sorry, I have been watching a lot of Bones lately.)

And they wonder why people in office’s keel over the moment they retire. Our bodies can’t take all that fresh air.

~ The Office Scribe

Manic Monday #3

So I guess I haven’t blogged in exactly one week. And it’s not for lack of anything to write about. That is the wonderful thing about working in an office; you are always supplied with blog fodder. Truth be told I haven’t written because I was really busy at work for the three days I was here last week before I skedaddled for my mom’s place for an extended weekend. Hopefully this week will provide some much needed workplace entertainment.

And now onto the randomness:

I think Microsoft Office might have the Swine Flu. I mean, I know computers can get viruses and that viruses can jump from species to species, but the real question is, can my computer get a human disease. Perhaps I need to contact John Connor and ask him about this.

I can not see the name Edward without thinking about that God forsaken Twilight book and equally craptastic movie. Thanks for ruining the following things for me Stephanie Meyer:
- Edward Scissorhands
- Edward James Almos
- Prince Edward Island
- Edward Hospital in Naperville, Illinois
- Edward Jones Investments
P.S. If you start to type “Edward” into Google the first thing that pops up is “Cullen”. Eeeeww

About 90% of the e-mails I get from co-workers pertain to lunch. What time are we eating? Does anyone have a plastic fork? Who wants half of my sandwich?

I forgot my glasses at my moms place this weekend. And for about the first 3 hours my eyes were bothering me from looking at the computer. But now things seem to be fine. Which is just confirming my suspicion that my glasses were a placebo and were in fact made from the same stuff as Pella windows.

Okay. We get it. Warm weather wants to make people take their clothes off and this is not an acceptable practice for the office. If multiple memos about dress code policy don’t seem to be working perhaps more drastic action is needed. Like public humiliation. Point out who in the office looks like a hooker and maybe then they will get the message.

~The Office Scribe

And yes, this is my 200th post. Does that mean I get a medal or something?