Thursdays with Paddy

Everyone in the office has gone home except for a few people I don’t like and me, but well, I’m not really working.

Mainly I am just attempting to look busy while at the same time desperately trying to tune out the sound of “Coworker E” whining (for about the 100th time) about the “terrible injury” he sustained that now requires him to wear a wrist brace. If I had to make a t-shirt for him, it would read: “Trust Me! I’m a Butt Plug,” because I am pretty sure that’s what he is-but, to his credit, he does it so well. I see him at the gym all of the time, and without fail, he will look right at me, ignore my brief attempt at a smile, and then quickly make his way towards the 5lb free weights.

On an unrelated note, last night I accompanied a selection of coworkers to Jazz in the Park. While I can’t be sure, I am almost positive there was music being played throughout the evening, but we were all so busy chatting, no one seemed to notice.

In fact, it wasn’t until a homeless man (wearing a healthy dose of Eau De Urine) plopped down on our blanket before we even realized the band had long since stopped playing. Before secretly running off with one of our coolers, the toothily-challenged gentleman insisted that we give him our unopened bottle of wine. He defended this logic by claiming that because he “worked” at the park he was best qualified to properly dispose of its contents

Needless to say, we declined his offer-only to send him gallivanting off to a neighboring blanket where, from my vantage, he made a not-so-stealthy attempt to grab one of their lawn chairs. He probably would have made off with it too had one of the ladies not looked up in time and snapped at him to put the chair down. When confronted, Paddy once again explained that he worked for the park and was only trying to help. He then went onto say that he didn’t appreciate her attitude.

I’ll tell you, that’s exactly why I got out of customer service. There’s just no love there.