My work mom left yesterday. Probably not forever, but for the foreseeable future, since she has to fly overseas to manage a long-term project . I sent this email to a buddy (I would call him my work husband, but he is just not work husband material), which I realize sounds somewhat strange in the context of office email:
Mom’s gone. Now I’m depressed : (
On the bright side, I’m slightly bolstered by the escalation of a war that I am waging with the coworker who is saved in my phone as JohnnyG, an eccentric British guy about the same age as my dad. Being the uber professional that I am, I like to pick things up off his desk and thrown them casually onto the floor as I walk by. Or rifle through the pages in books of code he has lying open. One time, I ripped the head partially off of a strange looking little foam soldier he has sitting on his desk. That was an accident though, and I just put it back in a hurry and pretended I hadn’t done anything. JohnnyG didn’t notice the damage until a week later, at which point he blamed it on Josh.
The man totally deserves harassment though, since he called me a dickweed one time. And, since I told him that it was not acceptable to say such things to ladies (we are applying the term lady very loosely here), he now informs me at least twice a week that I am a ‘toad’ and a ‘pest.’ And he called work Mom ‘dip shit’ yesterday! Unacceptable. JohnnyG is the definition of NO-FILTER. Strangely, he and I are actually pretty good friends. I think.
At any rate, he used to sort of take the abuse of me throwing his things with little-to-no resistance (I may have gotten a few pen stab marks on my forearms, but it was a small sacrifice to make for some excellent entertainment), but yesterday, I got a tissue box chucked in the direction of my head.
War is on.
The second or third time I watched the tissue box sail past my nose and skitter across my keyboard, I had to hide it in a secure location because it was in real danger of spilling my mug of tea. But I have kindly left out a number of objects that seem like they would be slightly less alarming when hurled in my general direction.
I need to think of a way to escalate the confrontation now. Throwing his things on the floor will no longer suffice. Hiding stuff perhaps? Or maybe the opposite? Putting all of his drawer things on the desk when he’s not looking? Rearranging the letters on his keyboard? I’m not naturally devious enough to be good at this. But I am apparently a great Pest and a Toad, so I should be able to come up with something.