There’s a man among us. A man who’s name is Douchebag McCloud. He reeks an ungodly douche scent – a pungent waft of preppy-annoying. He will be sure to trip you when you’re down, pee on you when you’re sleeping, and mock you when you’re poor… and he works in my building.
I can only suspect such douchebaggery works on the second floor – by far the douchiest floor. Second floorers insist on taking the elevator regardless of them being located just one floor up. Almost as bad as the Bloomberg employees from the top floor penthouse, who in the elevator will talk of their free lunches, causal dress code, and peanut butter making machine. Fook you and your indulgent workplace – nobody wants to make their own peanut butter.
I despise the second floor douches slightly more than the Bloomberg boobs. Mainly because these lazy wombats force me to spend 7% of my life riding the elevator. And between floors 1 & 2. Stopping on 2, stopping on 1, up & down, up & down.
Anyways, our douchebag extraordinaire is a second-floorer who you can spot with half-an-eye. He’s always wearing polished penny loafers, pennies included, paired with some obnoxiously pastel outfit and a Louis Vuitton briefcase dangling over his right shoulder while speaking insanely loud in our already echoing lobby. A few of my favs went like this:
(chatting with the bro-group) “And then I was like….what budget?” “Am I right?” Ahahhahahaha
(on the phone) “I took care of it Mr. LeaMond, I told him he was fired. F-I-R-E-D. Fired.”
“No pain in that gain – am I right fellas??” (deals out some high-fivers.)
“Wife made me lunch again today – guess where that’s going? T-R-A-S-H. Trash. Zing!”
“Hold up bros – I should probably grab my Burberry mittens – it looks chili con carne out there.”
“Eww guys…homeless people are so stinky.”
Walks by your elevator and wide steps his legs while putting both hands in gun shape and positions them towards you while the doors close, shoots them and then blows them out… “Now that is one good looking elevator…Keep up the good work ladies.”
The ‘guns up, good looking elevator’ scenario happens like once a week. I’m not sure what the motivation is – but I can only blame it on him being douchebag which makes him feel like this is something he needs to do repeatedly. We’ve already seen this – it was kind of funny in a harrassy way the first time – now, that’s enough.
I just want to go straight up to my floor without stopping on two and without a sexualized pantomime gun show. Is that so much to ask?
Now, to the epic douchebag reel –
Whatever, Scott Disick is the man.
A few things happened this week that I believe do not happen to others but strictly and violently only to me:
1. I was walking out of the metro and didn’t realize that one of the street vents blows a 50 mph wind out of it thus creating a tornado effect. While wearing an easy breezy chiffon dress feeling confident, I marched directly across said vent in front of what seemed like every single person who lives in a quarter mile radius sitting at Columbia Heights metro (20-30 people with nothing to do but stare). My dress instantly flew up – so violently that it got stuck to my face so I couldn’t pull it down for a solid 10 seconds and ended up just pulling at my hair and marching in place. For some idiotic reason, I didn’t think to move myself off the effing’ vent. I was alone and standing with a group of strangers staring at my bare pale ass. I had no one to laugh it off with so I did that weird giggle to yourself while randomly deciding to go for a jog to exit the scene quicker. Just as I was making my jog exit the walk sign turned red so I had to stand on the corner for an extra 3 minutes, shameful and buttless.
2. In retrieving ice from the ice maker, I opened the freezer door in such a way that it slammed into my right eye, bruising it quite badly. Lamest. black eye story. ever.
3. I managed to elbow my dental hygienist in the face, hard. Enough so that her plastic wood carving goggles flew off and sprung under the curtain into where the patient next door was sitting. She still said I’m a phenomenal flosser but also an asshole with much too pointy elbows. And too tall.
4. I was close-lined by a parking- gate-beam. I’m not sure how this actually happens to a person……
5. Hit in the face by one of those banner people that swirl around the cardboard cutouts while jamming to music. The pointy edge none the less.
6. Bought a vibrator and broke it immediately – having to return it the next day. It was faulty, but still……really>?
7. Lastly, I was waiting for a meeting with a vendor and when he arrived from the elevator doors I followed him into the men’s restroom thinking it was his office.
Living abroad has enabled me to explore the wonderful world of shitty jobs. I just finished up my masters degree so until I leave Sydney I’m trying to pack in as many occupations as humanly possible…well two jobs and I only work 3 days a week the others days I live a life of leisure and as a stay at home mom with no kids but cleans a shit load (mainly on Adderall). Anywhos, yesterday I had my first day filling in for a receptionist at a non-for profit that saves animals I FEEL SO SORRY for any receptionist and I am so lucky I only have to succumb to the berating nature of the general public once a week. Which is 8 hours too long.
I would like to start off by saying I was introduced to this job by the OHS officer, Sonya (Sonya- lady with purple hair off centered and cut in this angled bob with the spikey back, goth, she had the hefty black boots too, and shes also in her mid-50’s) telling me that I should never take the elevator with out my mobile phone. NEVER. Because 1 in 17 (yes, they had stats) would be stuck in the elevator for up to an hour. Also, when you need to call the emergency elevator people you need to address your elevator by the number below the level buttons not up high. Otherwise you would be telling them the wrong elevator and thus stuck for longer as they scowl the elevator bank. However, on a lighter note, she told me if I were to become stuck in between floors (which seems to be the preference among the staff) I would simply need to turn myself sideways and “shimmy” out. WHAT!? shouldn’t people not be working in this death trap? She also continued by pointing at an empty chair, “See that chair?” “That’s were Virginia sat… she went in the elevator one night, after hours (ooo risky move, Virginia) and was stuck in there for two hours.” ummmm where is Virginia now? and why are we talking about her like we lost her in battle?
After 30 minutes of elevator de-briefing I thought well if I get stuck..at least I will get over one of my worst fears of all time. And if I need to shimmy out, who doesn’t enjoy a good shimmy?
After the “intro” or elevator rules and exit plans I was left to my own vices. NO ONE TOLD ME ANYTHING. Except to answer the phones. After taking a few calls a guy named Mark came up to my desk and said I could transfer calls to him if I did not know the answers. For the next two hours every call was transferred to Mark. “Hello?” “Yes, whats that?” “One moment, I’ll just have to transfer you to Mark.” “Hello, you like orangutans?” “Great, me too.” “I’ll transfer you to Mark.”
After Mark was literally assaulted by calls, emotionally, psychically and sometimes even sexually, in steps Samantha (names are changed**because I think that’s what you have to do) Samantha said if Mark is busy I can transfer calls to her. Great, grand, wonderful two people on board to handle the inquiries of a national non-profit with 87 year olds calling to chat or complain about how we sent them stickers and return address labels that they hate. For the next two hours a tango of transfers to Mark ext. 224 or transfers to Samantha ext. 220 went on until it was time to leave. I can say I accomplished nothing except receiving a streamline of hilarious requests and bizarre statements that left me in hysterics. As follows:
Direct quotes from people calling in….
“We don’t want those ching-chongs cutting up animals for fur coats.”
“You cant just will nilly send out these pamphlets to make pensioners like me feel guilty about the tigers…”
“I am an animal lover, I have 3 cats, one is in the bed with me right now…..”
“CUSTOMER NUMBER 33808….CUSTOMER NUMBER 33808…..”
“Listen I heard in America they gas all the animals….can you look into that?”
Number of people stuck in the elevator today…. TOTAL: 2
I will continue to update…..as I’m sure shit will continue to be weird as hell… 🙂