OK, so Dwight was out of control today. I was sitting at the desk, I had my purse on the seat behind me, my coat over the back, my day-planner open, my drink in front of me, and my facebook page up, when I realized I needed something out of the file cabinet. In the 15 seconds it took for me to stand up and take one step to the left, Dwight made a power-play move for the seat. I was bent over opening the drawer and I hear "you really shouldn't have just all kind of websites open. It's an old computer and it could crash." I wanted to shout, "Who the fuck put you in charge, cause last time I checked, buddy-man, Dave hired me!" Instead, I said "ok," all icey. And it's just one website, jackass! And yesterday I saw you with yoooour email open! I told him to just log me off and when I turn around to look at him, I see that he's not only lounged out, surrounded by my things, but he's sitting on my damn purse!!! He is so lucky it wasn't one of my designer bags. I would've cut his ass. No seriously, I would have taken the razor blade out of my mouth, and sliced two matching lines on either side of his face. Then I probably would've said "Why so serious?" and sat down to wait for the cops to come get me. So I sat in the other chair and stared at my purse that he was sitting on, praying that he didn't fart or have a smelly ass. Then he started scrolling through my facebook page!! And not the public-view version of my page, but the one that says who has said what to me and who has posted their more recent status'! He goes, "You have a sister named Katie?" "No, a cousin." "Oh, that's my favorite name." Oh, cause I don't give a fuck; get off my purse and stop being a douche. Finally, I said, "Here, let me move my purse since you're sitting on it." For the rest of my shift I oscillated between complete bitchiness ("you sure you know what you're doin there, Bill?" and "oh, good thing this ISN'T your shop then, huh?") and sweetness ("tell me how I can help" and "do you want me to file that?"). I'm still trying to find my comfort level on the Bitch-o-metric. Am I comfortable at a 4? Or can I go all the way to a 9? Or is he gonna put his douche-ness aside and be nice and then I can bring it down to a 2?
In other news, I had one completely awkward moment at work. I was sitting at the desk (Dwight was no longer hogging the reception area) when a woman came around the corner and sheepishly asked me if she could check her email. I assumed she was some crazy parent and I'm thinking "Hell no, go check your email at home! I just got bitched at for checkin my facebook, I'm not gonna let you check your email!" so I politely said, "Sorry, we can't use this for personal email." She seemed a little surprised, but acquiesed. Then she reached down for her bag. Which is when I realized she was a teacher. Fuck. So I scare her and shout "Wait!"
Her: "Yes?"
Me: "Are you a teacher here?"
Her: "Yes."
Me: "Holy crap, I'm so sorry! I thought you were a parent being weird and asking to use the computer!"
Dammit, I felt soooo bad! And she was all quiet and 'ok, whatever you say' about it. Meanwhile, she probably overheard the whole facebook conversation from just a few moments before that. Shit, I looked like suuuuch a bitch! She understood though and we were able to laugh about it. While we were chatting, I found out that she is the teacher who replaced my retired middle school orchestra teacher (Mrs. Tedder was the best). So I think she and I have a connection. But I have no idea what her name is.
With the newest revelations about my co-worker Dwight's severe douche-ness, I'm not sure that it's fair to the real Dwight to call my fake Dwight by that name. (Did you follow that?) I have to think about it. Also, am I Pam? It's unclear at this point.
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