Wednesday, August 15, 2007

Butterfly's Colleagues

My work place is blessed with the envy of parents of spastic kids. If I actually counted the number of colleagues that have come and gone over my tenure at the office, I’d have actually believed my company was part of a charitable organization that provided Spastics with the normalcy of having a job in society.

I love the colleagues I have now, it’s the ones that aren’t around that really made me wonder if stupidity was an actual course that was available at the neighbourhood community centers.

True stories people, pay attention.

Couple months back, I got lazy and decided to off load some of my work to a new girl at the office. She was young and brimming with an eagerness that I knew was going to burn out the moment she realizes working is half as fun as chatting on MSN.

I figured the simplest task to give anyone, was for them to send emails for you. It’s emailing. Even my dad who has an Internet vocabulary limited to “Singapore Pools” can send an email without having to call a Starhub hotline for assistance.

Look, there are several things which are unspoken pre-requisites of being acknowledged as a teenager and sending an email is one of it, along with buying bubble tea, surfing for porn and having a hand phone that is more expensive than your dad’s.

So I told her to send an email and she did, only problem was that she didn’t keep anyone in copy even after I specifically instructed her to have me in copy.

Me: “Nel, you have to always keep me in copy, or whoever gives you the job..”
She: “I didn’t know, I’m so sorry…”
Me: “Just go add me back in copy.”

Done. Work solved, email sent and a lesson learnt. Or so I presumed.

Then she came running back to me with a notebook in hand, pen in the other and frantically biting off the cap of her pen. This was amazing, we were taking notes on how to send an email.

She: “Okay, so tell me again, who do I need to keep in copy again?”
Me: “Whoever gives you the job.. they’ll need to follow up.”
She: “Okay got it.”

She scurried off.

Then came back…

She: “How about myself? Do I need to always keep myself in copy?”

If there was any singular sentence that could absolutely stump me on computers, this was it. I didn’t know if she was joking or if Mircosoft Outlook 2000 was giving me a quiz, but I found it absolutely hard to digest that anyone sober enough to be asking such a question was well capable of tying her shoe laces or take an MRT to work everyday without once getting hit by it.

Me: “Are you fucking with me?”

True story.

Meet Jason..

Jason was perhaps the single most entertaining colleague I EVER had. There was no one we bitched more about to anyone else than him and this guy was born to be gossiped at. In proper introduction, Jason was the kind of guy you want your daughters to skip prom for just because he showed up at your doorstep.

He had a complexion so bad, it made the moon look good. I swear, if you shot a paper bullet at his face, it’d look like Chang-Er flying to the moon at a distance. And if he had a glass over his head and wore green, he’d have qualified to be an alien in Mars Attack.

Two things about him absolutely cracked me up, other than the fact that he could (and proved) cough blood on cue (disturbingly true) and that he constantly tried to hint that his body was covered in tattoo from his gangsta’ years, except for the fact that the only thing he had inked on him was idiocy.

The Bible debate

Jason was the kind that still believed diabolical verses were still cool and that being verbally anti-Christ was what every other trendy 26 year old was into. And he also believed that Lucifer’s surname was ‘Burgen’.

Me: “Lucifer does not have a surname..”
Him: “Yes he does, they all have. Even Jesus.”
Me: “Jesus does not have a surname…”
Him: “Of cos he does, it’s Christ, Jesus Christ!”

I don’t know which Sunday school he’s been attending, but I’m pretty sure they drink detergent for breakfast.

The girlfriend story..

As with all low esteemed crack head with a point to prove to the world, Jason always loved to emphasize his ‘girlfriend’. It was like a pronouncing of a projected image built by 50 Friendster pictures, which none of them included him, and stories of their very boring dates which never once included key words like, “sex” or “pregnancy”.

When I first saw her picture, I was actually impressed by him. The girl was decently hot, the kind that I would give up one episode of Entourage just to fuck. But as I scrolled religiously through her pictures, the whole burgeoning appreciation for him as a person started fading.

I’m no detective, but surely being a girl’s boyfriend entitles you to one picture on Friendster? Especially when she spared half a dozen of it with other guys with an arm full of intimacy.

Then one day out totally out of context, I asked him for his phone and scrolled through the gallery. It was like pulling out her portfolio. The girl could have claimed the phone hers and you’d still believe it. And finally, after a gigabyte of her pictures, was one that was captioned, “Me & Wen”.

Only problem was, the picture was two entirely separate pictures of them, conjoined by the greatest model career device ever, Adobe Photoshop.

The worst part about this whole debacle was that he was ABSOLUTELY delusional about it. He started throwing up stories about fucking married women and how the girlfriend and him broke up and being a school swimmer who competed against girls because and I quote,

In inter-school competition the guys and girls all swim together.”

The last straw was when he posted a picture of my friend on his wallpaper and he spun this amazing story about them being neighbours. Naturally I allowed the entire fiasco to run a full week of viewership before correcting him that the girl was not called ‘Agnes”.

He got fired shortly after because he was missing work too often and I was actually depressed that I didn’t have anyone else to laugh at for the next month. I was wrong. He gave the biggest ‘I got fired’ present ever. The biggest bullshit, cock sucking story ever..

He started circulating AROUND the office that he tendered his resignation. This guy was a fucking Einstein, going round telling everyone IN THE office, when we already knew management fired his ass.

I finally believed that having a single digit IQ was actually possible.

5 Comments:

At 10:50 PM, Blogger The Horny Bitch said...

Haha. Jason is a legend lor..

 
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