People in my office suck

I used to work with a guy (his desk was next to mine, actually) who stank so bad some days, I thought I was going to die. It wasn't every day, but God, when he did, he reeked. I didn't know what the heck to do. I came close to getting some deoderant and putting it on his desk to give him the hint. It never came to that.

 

A former boss of mine, who shall remain toothless, had the worst breath of all time. He was known statewide in many press boxes for his death breath.

To make matters worse, he used to pick his nose and they would fall down into his keyboard.

Whenver all the computers were taken and his was open he insisted on people using his keyboard and was shocked when people hesitated and looked for any other viable option!

 

OK, since we're picking on the morbidly obese ...

Worked with a ginormous woman at a previous stop. Big enough that she wore sweatpants pretty much everyday because that was apparently the only thing she could find to cover her hyuuuuuuuuuuuuuuge ass.

Well, one day she hears about breaking news on her beat and starts running (or what would pass for running when you're in the neighborhood of 500 bills) for the exit. Honest to God, funniest thing I ever saw.

 

Again, when is picking on the morbidly obese fun and not cruel?

 

I don't do it often, but the person I mentioned earlier deserved every bit of shit she ever got. She was a sorry editor who never passed on an opportunity to make those around her miserable. That, coupled with her almost gleeful pursuit of anything to justify or excuse her obesity, left her wide open for ridicule.

 

I can understand that to the fullest. But some people on this board just seem to do it out of hatred or some other reason.

 

I've worked with a few people who gave you that combination of being annoyed by their mere presence and feeling bad about being annoyed at the same time.

One was in college. This guy was an extremely hard-working news reporter, but he looked like he might have a heart attack at any minute. Rode around on a bicycle all the time, so you'd think he'd be in shape, but that just meant he was always sweating. I will never forget the time I made the mistake of sitting in a chair he had been in moments before.

Truth is, I just felt terrible for the guy.

Then there was a stringer at one of my previous stops, a plain-looking woman who would fixate on male full-timers and start asking them personal questions. I say plain looking because if she had been hot, most of the guys would have probably been happy to answer. But she was a bit intense about it and made just about everybody uncomfortable.

During one of these fixations, two of male co-workers of the object of her apparent affections (who was married, by the way) couldn't stop themselves from laughing at his reactions. She complained to the higher ups and they both got a lecture. The only reason it wasn't worse is their editor knew what the woman was like.

Then again, there are some people out there who think I'm a wierdo, so who am I to talk?

 

Second to the Simpsons quotes this the second funniest thread on here. The dog in the wheelchair was priceless as was the 500-pound women in sweatpants. We (at least me) demand more amusing stories!

 

I didn't realize that I'd made such a lasting impression on so many people in the industry until I read this thread. For the record, I'm no longer a ginormous woman. I'm now a ginormous man.

I'd bet money that the fella in question here has some stage of asthma, most likely brought on by smoking cigarettes or pot, probably both. For smokers, it's referred to as chronic bronchitis. Essentially, what is a minor cold for one person is a hellish months-long battle for a person with chronic bronchitis. The only way to stop it is to quit smoking, and even then much of the damage is permanent. Chronic bronchitis, combined with asthma and one other symptom is known as COPD, which is the precursor to emphysema. If he's hacking that much, it probably means that he's not getting enough oxygen into his lungs, which will result in a lack of oxygen to the bloodstream. He could die if he doesn't take care of the problem. Hand him some stuff from Web MD about chronic bronchitis and ask him if he thinks that could be his problem.

 

When I worked at the paper, we had this guy, a nice enough guy, but a "too close talker," which was bad enough when you were standing. When his victims were sitting, however, he would sidle into your cubicle and rest his nutsack on your shoulder... I mean, you were trapped, as though you'd stepped on a tripwire and couldn't make another move for fear of further entanglement. We actually developed this buddy system in the department; if some poor dude was getting his ear tapped by this guy's flacid penis, we'd call nutsack's phone and he'd sprint back to his desk. It was the only means to escape.

Also, I swear to God, I would rather have the guy sitting next to me in the press box beating off than clipping his fingernails. I mean, Jesus Christ.

 

Jones, I worked with an SE who had the same space problem. Super guy, but I had to get into a habit of folding my arms in front of me just to have enough space to breathe and exist. He wasn't excessively foul or anything like that, but he obviously never had a comm course about personal space. I'm not sure I'd want the woman of my dreams that close to me as often as he could do that stuff. Combine with this the fact that he was a pretty big fellow and I'm not ... well ...

 

It was bronchitis, I think. My boss finally kicked him out of the office until he got it fixed and finally went to the doctor. People busted ass all week to cover for him and he's supposed to come back sometime soon after a week or so off. I wasn't there for the final showdown, but I would have paid to see it, and bought popcorn. That someone could be that sick and have to be forced to go to the doctor is just so hard to believe that if it hadn't happened in my ear for a month, I wouldn't believe it.

I know, I know, guys don't go to the doctor. Hell, I don't go to the doctor, but when you've probably had 10 separate people pull you aside and tell you to go to a doc, when you've had meetings stopped so someone else can get you something to slow it down, when you're so bad you are whimpering and crying not just for a day or a week, but for the better part of a month, THEN when you STILL don't think you need to go to the doctor ... I'll never forget this. It was an amazing experience. As glad as I'll be when he returns cough free, I think I'll miss it a little ... Of course, I should stick with my mantra -- I'll believe it's gone when I see and hear it for myself.