It's Not Me, It's You

This week I finally succeeded in banishing Anonymous Officemate!  That’s right, I’ve freed myself from the daily rundown of his food diary, his odoriferous tuna fish, and the rest of his incessant banal chatter, mostly relating to food and video games.  Apparently he hasn’t yet made his craziness apparent to senior management, so he’s not banished from the company but he is banished from my office.  His numerous strikes have won him his very own cubicle.  Unfortunately I won myself a new Anonymous Officemate courtesy of the current space shortage at work.  Honestly, I don’t know where they find these people; Anonymous Officemate II is just as insane as Anonymous Officemate.  He’s been in my office for all of one day and has already shared that he thinks he may be a hoarder but he’s trying to make an effort to throw things away.  I’ve also learned that at his last job, he used to work back to back shifts and he’d come back on shift to find crumbs all over his desk.  Crumbs!  Can you believe it?

Nothing beats our very first introduction:

AE: “Nice to meet you, I’m AE, your new officemate.”

AO II: “Nice to meet you too.  Do you know how often they clean this office?”

AE (looking up from my multibillion dollar excel model): “Um, no sorry.”

AO II: “Well, is there a cleaning schedule or something?”

AE: “Honestly, I don’t really know.” [pause to answer phone to discuss other multimillion dollar excel model].

AO II: “Maybe I’ll file a request for someone to come vacuum; I could do that in my last job you know.”

AE: “Sure, go for it.”

Anonymous Officemate II then opened up his briefcase, pulled out an array of cleaning products and proceeded to disinfect the entire office.  I caught him wiping down my phone and keyboard when I came back from the kitchen with my coffee.  Let’s see if he shows up with his own vacuum on Monday.  I think maybe I should swap desks for the cubicle and let my two Anonymous Officemates be nuts together.

No Shirt, No Shoes, Yes to Service?

Despite living for almost a year in Australia, I’m still not on board with the trend of not wearing any shoes in public places including city sidewalks and streets, restaurants and malls.  Over the weekend H and I went to Woolworths to load up on groceries.  I looked up from choosing nectarines in the produce section and saw a shirtless, shoeless man in cut-off jean shorts.  He was pushing a shopping cart with one hand and intently reviewing a shopping list clutched in his other hand.  Maybe the next time his wife sends him grocery shopping, items one and two on the list should be put on shirt, put on shoes.    

Hole in One

My division at work has been subdivided into small groups for team building activities.  This morning, Anonymous Officemate, my manager (M) and two other group members spent the morning playing nine holes of golf with the goal of seeing how much beer they could consume before noon strengthening team ties.  I had a meeting with M shortly after their return and asked how his morning on the golf course was.

M:  “Well, it was interesting to say the least.”

AE:  “What do you mean?”

M: “Anonymous Officemate showed up to play in a singlet, denim shorts and flip flops.  I sent him home to change into more appropriate clothes and he came back without clubs.  I asked him where his clubs were and he told me that he didn’t have any.  The inappropriate attire and lack of clubs made me slightly suspicious so I asked him if he knows how to play golf.  His response, “Oh yeah, for sure.  I play Wii Golf all the time.”  Needless to say, he was appointed to driving the cart while the rest of us played.”

I was speechless for a solid minute before my jaw returned from the floor and I erupted into laughter.  Anonymous Officemate, you fail, yet again.

Anonymous Officemate Strikes Again

Friday afternoon, my office phone rang with a number I didn’t recognize.  I picked up to hear the all too familiar voice of Anonymous Officemate.

AO:  “Anonymous Expat?  It’s Anonymous Officemate, I was hoping you could do me a favour.”

AE:  “Sure, what do you need?”

AO:  “Well, I locked myself in the stairwell.  I was hoping you could come let me out?”

It seemed that Anonymous Officemate had decided to burn off some calories by doing a few minute jog up and down the stairwell at the office.  While he brought along his cell phone for his impromptu exercise session, he forgot his ID card which he needed to swipe on the door lock to get back into the office.  I briefly contemplated bringing his chair and laptop to the stairwell to make it his new office.  After all, he is way beyond his three strikes and has already been imaginarily banished.  Instead I took the long way to the stairwell.  I may have also stopped for a fresh cup of coffee along the way.  Hey, I let him out and I let him back into the office.  And in reward for my efforts I was treated to the daily rundown of his food diary for the past 24 hours on the walk back to our office.  Wow, I briefly forgot how not fun he is during the few minutes of peace I had while he was locked in the stairwell.  I’m currently accepting applications for new officemates.

K is for Kevlar

Given the current headlines, H decided to use a few minutes of his spare time to look into how his company’s office in Egypt has been handling their employees amidst the protests and clashes all over the country and e-mailed me the below:

Dear Anonymous Expat,

Anonymous Company has evacuated all non-essential employees and families from Egypt.  I however don’t fall under the non-essential umbrella.  

Love,
H

At which point, I wrote back:

Dear H,

If we were living and working in Egypt instead of in Australia, and you had to stay, I would stay with you.  Perhaps a good use of my time would be to join the friends of Zahi Hawass and help guards protect the Cairo Museum and other cultural sights with sticks.

Love,

Anonymous Expat

H’s response?  He attached the below his e-mail.

 and

To which I responded:

Dear H,

I’m sure Anonymous Company would ensure a supply of food and water and provide guards around the office and houses and for transit between the two.  Maybe I could even have my own mercenary?  Oh, how fun would that be?  I want two mercenaries.

Love,

Anonymous Expat

To which H fired back:

Dear Anonymous Expat,

Don’t tell your Mother that, she might have a nervous breakdown.  P.S. They’re called security  consultants. 

Love,

H

But H, how awesome would I look in this, waving my broom outside of King Tut’s tomb?

 

Survey Says

H was listening to the radio on the way into work this morning when the music stopped and the DJ came on to broadcast a scintillating poll regarding Julia Gillard, Australia’s Prime Minister, and Tony Abbott, Australia’s Opposition Leader.  Did he ask:

A) Do you think Julia Gillard’s proposed flood levy or Tony Abbott’s proposed spending cuts are a better way to cover the damage bill from recent flooding and Cyclone Yasi?

B) Between the two, Julia Gillard and Tony Abbott, who is more likely to go to heaven?

The answer is B, between the two, Julia Gillard and Tony Abbott, who is more likely to go to heaven?  Please tell me where we woke up today?  Australia is awash in massive damage from recent severe flooding, cyclones and bush fires, the government is retreating in its proposed reforms of the national health care system and besides the constant threat of bad apples and naughty nuts from legal entrants to the country, Australia is facing boatloads of asylum seekers everyday.  Instead of bothering itself with real issues, the local radio station is concerned with which lead politician is more likely to go to heaven?  It’s more likely that as politicians, both will end up in Dante’s eighth circle of hell.  Maybe the poll should have asked who citizens would be more likely to provide a life ring from the boiling pitch to, Julia Gillard or Tony Abbott?

Carbohydrates are the Devil

For lunch today, H graciously packed me a container of leftover ziti, tomato sauce, cannellini beans, bread crumbs and a generous grating of mozzarella cheese.  I took it to the kitchen at work to heat up and returned with the steaming container of carbohydrate goodness to my desk to eat.  My Anonymous Officemate, who I have been unable to banish despite his three strikes, looked up from his desk with huge eyes to identify the source of the intoxicating smell.  Seeing it was a hearty container full of pasta, he took the time to tell me about his severely limited carbohydrate intake since the first of the year.  I was fortunate enough to learn that since January 1^st, 2011, my properly sized, not fat officemate has:

• Eaten pasta for dinner once, as his Friday night ‘treat.’
• Not eaten any bread whatsoever.
• Eaten an eighth of a cup of bran with a large serving of nectarines, apricots and other fruit for breakfast everyday.
• Eaten a salad for lunch everyday; I big-heartedly refrained from warning him about the copious amounts of fat that might be lurking in his salad dressing.
• Eaten a baseball sized piece of protein for dinner every night and filled the rest of his plate with vegetables.

Thanks to this, he has lost two full kilos since the start of 2011, off of his already fit frame.  I refrained from pointing out that he neglected to include his alcohol intake, the amount of full fat milk he consumes in his 3+ coffees per work day, or his consumption of an entire homemade Pavlova on Australia Day from his meticulously relayed food diary.  I’m so nice, I know.  I did however tell him that I had already eaten pasta twice this week and that one of those meals was homemade baked ziti pizza with sausage.  I then proceeded to pull out my homemade chocolate chip cookie to await its last minutes before entering my mouth on my desk, in full tantalizing view of Anonymous Officemate.  I’m sorry Anonymous Officemate, I have no imaginary extraneous weight to lose and I ♥ bread, pasta and chocolate.