Potato Skins Claim another Victim... or Did They?

It was the Beer and Bowling Tournament. The idea was simple, departments bowl for bragging rights over pitchers of beer. Around six yesterday, we wondered to the Chelsea Piers Bowling Alley. My boss ordered up 3 pitchers of beer, and the shenanigans began. You may be curious why I keep putting emphasis on the beer portion of this activity… all in due time my friend, all in due time.

As the bowling balls were carelessly throw down the lanes and the pitchers were getting emptied by thirsty coworkers. I could tell this scene was about to spiral wildly out of control. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ted’s hand motion to the waitress to bring another round. It was nearing 8:00 and I knew that I had to leave. I recruited Scottie to take my place and I removed my bowling shoes. At that moment, I saw it. I saw the begging of the end, I saw the greasy array of foods being brought out by the waitress. French fries, onion rings, chicken fingers, cheese dip, cheese bread, and the dreaded and most deadly, the potato skins.

I quickly gathered my things, because I knew at that point the evening had gone horribly wrong. I scampered out of the bowling alley and left. But little did I know what victims I left behind.

Wednesday I entered work and to my surprise everyone was here, and I breathed a sigh of relief. But then, I saw that empty cubicle in the corner. Meredith? Meredith’s boss, Molly walked up to me at that point shaking her head. “What, Molly, tell me! I’ve got to know!” I screamed, as the office eagerly watched for the answer.

“Potato Skin Posioning,” was all she could say.

And with a dramatic turn of her head and a tear in her eye Molly walked back into her office.

My mind trampled off into the memories of the night before and I remembered the office debauchery that had occurred at the bowling alley. Meredith, cup in hand, whiskey drink on the way… wait just one second… could she be… no, it couldn’t be… hung-over today???

At that point all of the pieces ran together and I realized that “Potato Skin Poisoning” was a cover-up, in fact it was a flat out lie.

Next time Meredith please remember moderation… all in moderation.

The Slobber

I have to admit I was stunned that Kevin had covertly brought his puppy to work in his backpack. A cute puppy named Milo. The little guy had been passed around the office, and been held and petted all day long. By that evening, the puppy was scared, exhausted and openly shaking. This kept most of my coworkers from hassling it, and could tell it needed to be left alone. Ted didn’t see it that way. Ted is a coworker of mine known for his awkward high fives and uncomfortable conversation. Ted finagled his way towards Milo and tossed him up into his arms. His voice was overflowing with high pitch tones fit for an infant and was putting his face in the dog’s and shaking him around.

Ted was so into this puppy, it almost made me feel like I need to leave him alone. As if I was protruding on an intimate reunion between two lovers. It was unpleasent to say the least. So as I am looking at the ground avoiding eye contact, I noticed out of the corner of my eye a glossy string of slobber trickling out of the corner of his mouth connected to the puppy. Instantly uncomfortable, I tried to get out of the situation as quickly as possible to avoid any further embarrassment for both of us.

But then Ted did the unthinkable. He denied the slobber. Straight up no acknowledgement of the shiny drool that he is now wiping from his face and leaving on the dog. I was stunned at what I had just been a witness to. A string of Ted’s saliva was strung across Milo’s back… and nothing.

I lost faith in all humanity at that moment. I have never experienced a moment so painfully awkward.

Why Ted… Why?

In Loving Memory of "The Pooter"

When I moved to this pasty green cubicle in the far recesses of the office, there was no one near me... Except one, Gary.

Gary, a middle aged balding man suffering from social anxiety and wasn't the type to "mingle." In fact, I sat at my cubicle for about 4 months talking to Gary before he finally broke down and responded. After that, Gary and me became office compodres. I'd say, "Hi Gary," and he'd respond in a tone resembling Eeyore, "Hello." We were practically long lost siblings. From time to time, I'd throw a tiny foam basketball into his office, to see if he was in the mood to toss around the old ball. He'd never throw it back, but I think it was just because he didn't want to distact me from my work. He was always considerate like that. Sometimes I'd even give him imaginary high fives. Although he never really resipricated my high five motion, which consisted of me pumping my hand in the air until I realized that he was ignoring me, I knew deep down he cared.

One day as I sat isolated in the corner of the building with Gary, a sound resonated from his office sounding like someone slowing letting the air out of a balloon. I turned around to give him that "I know what you just did face" but the look on his face told a tale of satisfation and release. From that moment on I knew Gary only as "the Pooter."

That was until Friday, when I saw Gary leaving a little early. I chastised him for leaving early and tried to hassle him and give him fake high fives. But Gary was in no mood and scurried out of the office. Although I knew I was going to be able to see "the Pooter" Monday. I still hated to see someone so close to me leave every week, with that same stale look on his face with powerbar crumbs around his mouth and on his shirt.

But when I returned Monday, Gary didn't come back. He had been "let go" the past Friday.

With all of the drawings I made him still taped to his wall and the memories of his flatulance still fresh in my mind. I shed a tear for "the Pooter." Only these cubicle walls know the bond that Gary and I shared. I will never forget your kindess, your compassion, or your comb-over.

You will be missed Gary... May we never forget... Never...



("The Pooter" is seated to the right. My only pictoral evidence of the moments we shared)