The Douchey Co-worker

We will typically spot this person in an office environment. You’ve heard of people that are, “by the book.” This person is the book. They enjoy reading, routine, and routine. They seem to lack any sort of personality whatsoever. Wait, is that a personality? I feel like they are faking it. Like they’re a compilation of flesh, organs, and bone, but what happened to the human soul? Well, if you actually believe in a soul…

“Did you just make a comment against religion?”

“No. I love religion.”

“Good. That would be blasphemous.”

Sorry about that. Anyway, this person fails to understand the laid-back personality types, the creative person that lies inside of us all, and the occasional vulgar joke. I’ll be right back. I need to take a piss.

“What did you say?”

“I mean I need to use the washroom…”

“You’re excused.”

OK, I’m back. So, I wonder if this person ever made a racist joke, got drunk on a whim, or farted in public. That grin on his face makes me want to puke. Does he realize that he’s making that grin? It’s like there is a surgically placed kabob in his ass, and he enjoys it. Not too much. Just enough to allow for this grin of his. And that can’t be a genuine laugh. He’s forcing himself to laugh. No man reaches a point of comical ecstasy with an abhorrent outburst like that. I shouldn’t even use the word outburst. I mean miniscule, irritating chuckle.

What I’d like to know is where are these people raised? I would have to say somewhere like Connecticut or Rhode Island. They seem like a safe place to raise a child without any sort of outside influences from actual human beings. What are the conditions in which they’re raised? I imagine sitting around the dinner table making wise cracks at one another isn’t the typical dinner setting. So, what do they talk about? Perhaps they discuss politics, logic, and different shades of golf shirts. I must say, pink is the new green.

Is he making fun of me back, or is he not capable of vengeful thoughts? I wonder if he thinks I’m immature and useless to society. Granted I am, but I don’t want him thinking that about me. At the same time, I don’t want to hate him, but he leaves me no choice. I’d rather like him, than hate him. Maybe we can get along after all. I doubt it.

Are there actual people buried beneath the façade, or is this all we’re going to get? Maybe there is an ethnic humorist, like George Lopez but funny, waiting to erupt out from the pale skin Chester McGinley. By the way, I completely made that name up. It sounds pretty lame though. No offense to the Chester McGinleys out there who are reading this.

Now these people thrive in corporate environments. In fact, it’s likely that they will rise to the top and be your boss at the dead end job you’re stuck in. So yea, they’re in the same boring building as you day in and day out, but they’re making more money than you – and subsequently more successful than you. How does that make you feel? If you haven’t decided yet, I’ll answer for you. Sick. Because they kissed enough ass, nodded their head, and agreed to their superiors enough times to put them in that comfy corner office with a view. And let’s be honest, who doesn’t want that corner office? I could totally stare out that window for hours and daze about nothing, while collecting serious corporate dollars. Plus, I can finally eat at that pricey steakhouse across the street. For lunch! Sweet!

Now that I think about it, I wonder if this person has already thought this through. Maybe they’re way ahead of me. Perhaps they know that if they approach life in such a manner, than they will eventually have a sweet steakhouse lunch. Come to think of it, I may be going about life all wrong.

“Did you just have an out-of-the-box thought?”

“No.”

“Good. OK, well I’m going to go home to my wife and talk about my day at work. Can’t wait to see who they’ll vote off Dancing With the Stars tonight. See you tomorrow morning.”

On second thought, I’ll stick with Type B Personality. Sorry Chester. You’re not making comments about me with your other Type A friends, are you?