Tales from the real-life Office Space
Ro and I were talking about this last night: We need a thread where we can share stories about dumbfucking co-workers. I will start.
Yesterday, a fellow reporter showed up to work an hour late and drenched in not just a sheen, but what appeared to a full blanket of his own sweat, mud, rainwater, and more sweat. Apparently, his car broke down the day before, so he decided to bicycle seven miles to work without a change of clothes or any kind of cosmetic remedy, rather than a) calling a taxi, b) taking a bus, c) calling me (I live six blocks from him), or any other common sense approach. Here's the kicker: His wife refused to drive him to work in her car, because keeping their home school schedule was far more important.
So he came to work a disgusting mess smelling like a wet dog. I gagged when he walked in the office. After an hour in the newsroom with him, I finally begged some hand lotion off of my boss and rubbed in on my upper lip to try to mask the stench.
Later in the day, my boss asked if I'd be willing to drive this guy and his bike home. First, I have a coup and the bike would not fit. Second, this guy and his griminess were not going in my nice car. I made up an appointment that I COULD NOT MISS in another part of the county and declined to give the ride.