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As I alluded to in my last post, I’m totally pissed off right now, and it’s all because of work. Well, 90% because of work anyway. Yeah, work! Work, where I sit around dealing with incompetence on a grand scale, where I get sickening “pep talks” from the people in charge (and out of touch), where I have to put up with the various bullshit behaviors of the Creepy Guy who sits 10 feet away from me. I hate going to work, more than normal people hate going to work just because it’s work. Work for me has gone from a mildly entertaining (if boring) way to spend a few hours each day to a total chore to drag myself to. However, I had resigned myself that this is how it is and I just have to deal.

So my body betrayed me. This morning, I was actually sick, and I know for a fact that there’s nothing really wrong with me – no virus, etc. It was a psychosomatic condition, my body rebelling against the fact that I had to drag myself into work again. I had a killer stomach ache this morning, and an unpleasant trip to the bathroom confirmed that my body (and my subconcious, I guess) was seriously pissed off. So I dicked around the house this morning, went back to sleep for a while, got up and read email, and basically came in to work about two hours later than normal. The irony is, of course, I’m going to have to make the two hours up somehow, and really – I don’t think tacking them on to the end of the day makes them any more bearable than having them at the start of the day (except maybe if Creepy Guy leaves early, in which case the end of the day is MUCH better than the rest of it).

So yeah, I’m pissed off. Mostly at work and a little bit at myself for being weak. And for having ridiculously bad timing! If this newfound misery for my work situation had happened at any other time, I would have just quit, and gotten a new job quite handily. Unfortunately, I just had to go through a crisis of morale during a horrible recession, which means that I should really be doing everything in my power to keep my miserable job, not lose it. So I’m hanging in there, finding ways to cope and distract myself. I’m really hoping a new opportunity is available to me around January. I wish it could happen tomorrow or next week, but January is about the soonest I can hope for right now.

On the bright side, I heard through the grapevine that Creepy Guy is actually looking for another job. So maybe he’ll be gone soon*. That would go a long way towards making work more tolerable.

*Who am I kidding? Nobody will hire this idiot. It’s a miracle he ever got hired at all. Oh well.

Did you think I was finished ranting about Creepy Guy? Not by a long shot. I now present you with a series of vignettes describing his behavior, which is at least as creepy as the way he looks, dresses, and smells.

Cookie Monster. My company offers free snacks in the kitchen, mostly packaged junk food. Creepy Guy sure loves him some Coke and cookies. In fact, he eats about five packages of cookies a day, and drinks probably just as many Cokes. No secret where that sexy figure is coming from! He really doesn’t have the manners to participate in a community food supply though. One time, there was a cake in the kitchen. A co-worker of mine saw Creepy Guy getting himself a slice – and he PUT HIS FINGER ON THE PART HE WASN’T TAKING while he did it. Then he licked the frosting off his finger and touched the damn cake again! Come on, this is stuff that gets covered in elementary school, right?

Chew, chew, chew! Creepy Guy is a loud eater, as in we all get to share in every bite and enthusiastic chew. Not just the cookies, but his lunch, chips, and whatever happens to be laying around. Not only does he bite and chew loudly though (loud enough that I can hear him clearly from a good 15 feet away, which is scary); he also grunts. Between mouthfuls, I guess. It results in this pattern, which is honestly just as good an appetite suppressant as fen-phen: bite, chew, chew, grunt, chew, chew, chew, grunt, chew-chew, chew, grunt, sigh, chew, swallow. Repeat ad nauseum. I guess if I end up losing more weight because of this, I should be grateful, right?

LOVE ME!! Creepy Guy is desperate for attention. He goes in my boss’s office at least 12 times a day to ask the stupidest questions you can imagine, just for a little face time. I assume this is why he stops whatever he is doing and listens raptly to any conversation that goes on around him. If my neighbor and I talk about our weekends together, he stops and listens. If we talk about something related to the software we’re developing, he stops and listens. There are certain rules of etiquette you’re supposed to follow when you live in cubicle land. One of them is, if a conversation does not involve you, then it’s polite to not stick your nose in it – just go on with whatever you’re doing and if you must eavesdrop, then do so surreptitiously and don’t be obvious about it. Do NOT pull your chair around and stare with rapt and creepy attention at the two people having a conversation that doesn’t involve you!

I feel your eyes on me and: ew. I assume this need for attention is why Creepy Guy also makes a habit of staring at people. He stares at me almost all day long, any time he looks away from his computer (which is a lot, because he doesn’t know what the hell he is doing, but that’s another story). It’s not a predator-like leering stare though (thank GOD!); it’s a “looking for an opening” stare. You know how this goes: the creep in question stares at you, waiting for you to accidentally look his way. If you happen to make eye contact, he uses it as an opening to attempt to start a conversation with you. Really lonely people who are desperate to talk to another human being do this a lot. You know what? If you’re lonely, call a friend. I don’t want to talk to you, so go away.

Personal space – what’s that? This is one of the worst things about Creepy Guy. He has NO concept of personal space whatsoever. God forbid you ever have to work on something that entails showing him something on your computer. He’ll pull his chair up next to you and sit so close, if he was any closer he’d be on your lap! Not only has this happened to me, I’ve seen it done to others as well – both male and female. He sits inches away, puts his greasy fingers on your monitor, and just generally makes everyone uncomfortable. Again, this is not a perverted sort of issue, Creepy Guy just truly does not understand the concept of personal space. One time he was sitting way too close to me, then stood up to talk to someone else. He was so freaking close to me, he HIT ME IN THE HEAD WITH HIS GIANT, GROSS BELLY. After that, I got up and left the office for a while to self-medicate. I guess I should have gone to HR – maybe I could have gotten him fired, or at least transferred. Chalk that one up to missed opportunity.

I am in hell, forced to sit within earshot (and staring range) of Creepy Guy every day. And with winter coming, there’s the smell to look forward to. KILL ME NOW.

I’ve been Twittering about a creepy dude that I work with (“Creepy Guy”) excessively lately. I mean, I can’t seem to stop talking about him, but for real: he is totally creepy, gross, and annoying. And I have to sit where I can see him all damn day. It’s not fair! So anyway, Branch suggested that I blog about him, because apparently my tweets just aren’t getting across the true depth and nature of his creepiness. Happy to oblige! Let’s get ranting.

Creepy Guy is a real loser in every sense but let’s start superficially, with how he looks and dresses. I happen to know that he’s 45, but he looks at least 10 years older. He’s fat, in the thick-in-the-middle, pear-shaped way that old, gross guys tend to get fat. He’s gained at least 20 pounds in the past year, and watching him gain weight is almost a sport where I work. He has a gigantic bald spot on top of his head, which I realize he probably can’t help – but he could help the ridiculous bowl haircut that he wears around it, making him look a bit like a demented friar. Seriously, he looks like he gets his hair cut by a blind person at Hair Cuttery. Plus, his hair is the texture of straw or hay – I suspect he has never used conditioner in his life and possibly his solution for shampoo is a bar of soap! And then, there’s the hair growing out of his ears – almost as long as the hairs on his head, nearly as thick, and 10 times as disgusting.

Creepy Guy also wears thick bi-focal glasses. I think they’re supposed to be like those “Transitions” lenses that get darker outside and then fade inside, but they don’t work right. Inside they have a permanent brown tint to them, which seriously just makes him look even more like Mark David Chapman, complete with 1000-yard serial killer stare.

Are you grossed out yet? Wait, it gets better.

His wardrobe is as impressive as you’d expect for such a fine physical specimen. He dresses in a combination of Land’s End, K-Mart, and cheap tourist shop chic. He has a series of plastic-looking ugly oxfords and loafers (what my boss calls “bus driver shoes”). For pants, he usually wears mom jeans or khakis. On top, it’s always a golf or polo shirt in the summer, but in the winter it starts to get really interesting (or disgusting, depending on your perspective).

He has a thing about sweater vests. As in, he wears them all the time – usually the same one, for four or five days in a row. I’m not even kidding. Last winter I kept a spreadsheet, and tracked how often he wore various “favorites.” The results were sobering. Though the spreadsheet is lost to me now, I remember quite clearly the 23-day stretch when he wore the same sweater vest 20 times. He’ll wear a sweater vest until he outgrows it (or it shrinks), and it barely covers his belly anymore.

Now you might think that picking on the sweater vest thing is uncharitable. Maybe it doesn’t smell, since he does wear it over some kind of button-down shirt? Or maybe his wife washes them out every damn night? No, I don’t think so. You see, to top off all the hotness I’ve already described, Creepy Guy has yet another fine quality: he has BO. Terrible BO. Like, make the wallpaper peel and your hair curl and your eyes water BO. HE STINKS, FOLKS! I don’t think anyone ever shared the basics of hygiene with him (as if the long ear hair wasn’t evidence enough); because apparently his idea of BO control is to slap on more and more cologne/aftershave/perfume/whatever. Because in the winter time, he smells like a combination of a homeless person’s armpit and the fragrance department at the late, great Woolworth’s five and dime. The smell is enough to make you believe in God, because I swear – if Hell has an odor, this is what it smells like.

Are you sick yet? Because I’ve only described him physically up to this point. I haven’t even gotten into his behavior: loud (and constant) eating, total disregard for the personal space of others, eavesdropping on conversations, complete ineptitude at his job, inappropriate staring in attempts to initiate conversation. The list goes on and on.

Where should I go next (besides another company)?