this thread makes me think that most of my coworkers are extremely competent and i should be lucky to work with them everyday.

my wife had an awesome story. an employee that reports into a manager my wife manages came to my wife in tears to complain about the treatment she had been getting. She said that she sent a two-page long email to her manager about how she felt and the manager only responded with:

Jane Doe is out of the office until Monday. Please contact John Doe if you need urgent assistance.

This is an email I sent to a coworker, regarding a problem of someone barging into his office all the time and telling him how gar everything is:

I think you ought to tell her that you have a bizarre
problem, making pants uncomfortable, and that you have to
have them off most times during the day. This includes
underwear. If she presses you tell her The Girl Jeanie
Black threw hot grits on you crotch, and your sac
needs as much air as possible. (She will understand
being horribly disfigured.) And that you would
appreciate if she knock when she MUST come in, and
limit her time in your office.

OR, every time she is in your office, send me a text
message, and I will call. And when you answer say
"Hold On Gar, I have to get rid of this STUPID FUCKING
IMBECILE WHO TALKS TOO GODDAMN MUCH THAT'S IN MY
OFFICE"

I think she will start to take the hint.





I should be an advice columnist

I don't really have co-workers, and I enjoy it.

One of my best friends (who also used to be my WORST employee), was notorious for linguistic stupidity. My favorite is that he literally thought the term for someone who was grossly overweight was obeast! Is that like the Irish Bigfoot, or something?!?!?

"Faith and begorrah, it's O'Beast and it looks like he's hungry for more than just potatoes!!!"

Oh, and this same guy made an inflammatory post to a message board we both used to frequent, branding two other posters engaged in an extramarital affair as "adlutours."

big dave yoda talkin' -or- mexican jr?

HOW DO YOU REMEMBER THOSE TWO?!?!?!?!?

Yeah, it's Big Dave.

big dave yoda talkin' - classic.

cosigned, obvs.

i've developed a system for reading my boss's emails. i read it three times before i ask any questions about what the hell she's talking about. she types too damn fast, but she's definitely not stupid.

almost fell out of my chair

I think there's a guy that shits his pants regularly at work. He may wear adult diapers but I really don't want to ask him because he also has bad b.o. and every day at 4:10 goes in the bathroom for about 20 minutes. He also talks like he's always on the verge of losing his voice, comes in at least once a week with bad shaving cuts and stomps around the office like he's trying out for the stage version of Frankenstein.

There's another guy who yells out either the "woo woo woo" thing from the Three Stooges or randomly hoots along to some song that I think is in his head every 10 minutes or so.

My boss is pretty dumb too.

so far, no one has irritated me by being stupid.

yet.

bitchy, yes. but that's the music biz for ya... so i just ignore those assholes.

Lol- a friend of mine is a race promoter, and had a buttload of shirts made up for an upcoming race. He posted about them on a mountain bike board, and was crushed when I pointed out the spelling error in the logo.

the real question is why he couldn't come up with a better name for the race than Cool Mountain Bike Race.

unless it's: Cool Mountain....Bike Race

Thought about posting stuff about coworkers but I'm weary and defeated by them. It's too much effort.

My only remotely interesting story is the large, old, ladies man who worked in Automotive at Wal-Mart. He wore suspenders, was bald, and hit on every woman who came within three feet of him, with such witty repartee as asking "Can I draw a picture of you, angel?" and then drawing a heart around her head with his fingers.

So Halloween night, my friend and I are slacking off at the paint desk when he walks up to us, says "Hey guys, I have to go home. I shit my pants." and waddles off. He gets ten feet away when we see him intercept the section manager and we hear, crystal clear from across five aisles, "Hey Dellano, I've got to head home. I shit my pants." and Dellano stares at him and says okay.

It was the bragging that did it. The fact that he walked around, nearly yelling it, proclaiming his greatness.

Shitting your pants is good story material.

yeah. exactly.

my poor friend, kevin, is the paper's maintenance man and had to clean up her trail.

luckily i was at lunch.....had i been there.....i would've barfed.

i came back and my friend from her department could barely breathe while telling me about because she was laughing so hard. (and completely disgusted.)


i mean.....she had to be TOLD to go home.
now. that's stupid.

http://www.obner.org/bb/viewtopic.php?t ... ght=office

i don't work there anymore though.

I work with Ph. D.'s and shit, so I'm far and away the stupidest one there. But that's not saying much. I'm sure they'll still do something stupid...er...absent-minded.Winner.

Yeah, my stuff pales in comparison. DayStar wins easily.

Close- it's a town called Cool.

I worked in a restaurant recently. I have a theory that all wait staff are not only incompetent and lazy but are extremely stupid as well. At the most recent job, one of the waitresses came up to me and my coworker in the kitchen. We were really dead at the time. And, as a cook, when it's dead and all the prep is done, you try and find things to do to make the time go by faster. So, what I was doing was counting, one by one, the croutons that we made earlier that day as I was placing them in their container.

The waitress asked me, "what are you doing?" To which I responded with a fake yet sincere sounding irritation in my voice, "I have to count the fucking croutons." Luckily my coworker was there to back me up when she initially argued the claim to be bullshit. After about 45 seconds we convinced her that we had to count the croutons in order to make sure that we were not cutting the bread too large or too small when making them. I got to about crouton #342 when she walked away shaking her head. Close to closing time, I heard her telling another waitress how crazy it was at the restaurant because we, the cooks, had to count the croutons one by one.

Wait. You were counting the croutons and she thought you were counting the croutons?

Idoangeddit.