There's a curly hair on my desk and it ain't my colour.

If they find a dead, partly clothed body in my office, this hair would go in as evidence. It's that kind of hair.

The Journal of M

Meet "M"

M has been working here for over 15 years. He's pushing 40, never had a girlfriend, lives with his parents and still works a near minimum wage level position for the company. He's in debt due to his reckless spending habits (2 candy bars + 1 bag of Doritos + 1 jug of chocolate milk for breakfast from the convenience store daily, 1 Subway meal deal and 1 2L Pepsi for lunch daily, consumer electronics on credit, etc.) yet he blames everybody else for this problem. Scapegoats include the government, the company, me (for making more than him). M gurgles when he talks and has problems controlling the level of his voice. Nobody at work respects him. The above items are probably the reasons he curses his lot in life on a daily basis. I'm not using these as Ad Homonym arguments against him. These are just observations to set a backdrop to the story.

When I first started here as a doe eyed college grad back in 2003, I felt a little bad for M. Since nobody really treated him with any respect, I thought I'd try to be nice. You know, small talk, a cheerful greeting in the morning, that kind of stuff. Because of this, M had the idea that "we're cool." Best of buds and so forth. He acts like we're both 12 years old. The main thing is, no, we're not cool. I only put up with him for the sake of workplace professionalism. It doesn't quite sink in despite my displays of displeasure to his behavior.

Here is a breakdown of M's childish antics today:

7:45 AM
M locks the door to the building just as I'm about to open it. Har har.

7:46 AM
Me: "Good Morning, M"
M: "What's so good about it?"
*Awkward silence*

7:50 AM (my pre work Internet surfing / newspaper reading / quiet time)
M sneaks up behind me, reads my screen (personal email from my brother), turns off office lights and scares the bejesus out of me. The contents of the email will probably become fodder for lunchroom conversation later in the day. I don't take part in these discussions.

8:00 AM
M holds the door shut to the server room so I can't get in to do backup.

8:20 AM
M blocks the path to the order desk. Puts up fisticuffs. Thinks it's funny. Note to self: buy crow bar, rubber gloves, duct tape, rope and solvents. Meet M in parking lot after work.

8:25 AM
M stands behind me while I'm reviewing purchase orders. He invades my personal space [leaning against me, rhythmically bumping his hips against mine, punching my kidneys]. Very creepy.

9:47 AM
M enters my office. Loudly announces that he's checking up on me. Leaves. Thanks, M.

10:35 AM
M pulls on my hoodie drawstring. I remain "lopsided" for the balance of the day.

12:00 PM
While going to the fridge to get my lunch.
M: "Hey Jon"
Jon: "Yeah, M?"
M: "Go for lunch"
This is a daily ritual. It gets old.

12:08 PM
MSN.com is on my screen
M: "CAUGHT YA!"
Jon: *spills lunch*
M: "I SAW BRITNEY SPEARS ON YOUR SCREEN!"
Jon: [series of F-bombs]

12:35 PM (lunch)
M asks about problems he's having with his home Internet connection. This is the only time he's nice to me (knocks the door, says, "excuse me" and "please").

I respond with:
"Aw dude, If you've already gone through your TCP/IP configuration, you have to check your NAT table settings on your router. Is 128 bit WEP encryption set up properly?"

*Silence*

"Of course, your TCP/IP stack could be corrupted. If that's the case, you may have to download a fix for that."

His modem probably just needs a reboot.

The art in doing this is to talk real fast, pull as many tech acronyms out of your ass as possible and make it sound like this is common knowledge. He usually leaves more confused than when he arrived. Passive Aggressive ++.

1:45 PM
M says that B is looking for me. Problem is, B isn't. He's in the can.

2:25 - 2:36 PM
M complains loudly about the Klein administration, high gas prices, today's Sunshine Girl's cans. Enter boss. Exit M.

3:16 PM
Noises heard directly behind my chair. Reflection on the screen says M is standing behind me.

3:52 PM
M: "Hey Jon"
Jon: "Yeah, M?"
M: "You suck"
Jon: *continues working*

4:13 PM
Light switch mysteriously goes off. M seen walking away from office.

4:59 PM
M: "See ya, wouldn't wanna be ya."
Jon: (under breath) "STFU, M"
M holds the door shut so I can't get out
This, again, is a daily practice.

The above is representative of a typical day with M

Buddhists would say that I should thank M for helping me meditate on patience. I wonder if M should thank me if I helped him meditate on the impermanent structural integrity of his face.

Things to do when you're bored at work

Every day at 1 o'clock, our receptionist takes her lunch break. During this time, I play secretary. No, Administrative Assistant. No, Office Administrative Telecommunications Specialist. Yeah... that's the one.

Once in a while, somebody mistakes our phone line for a fax line and leaves their fax machine to redial every few minutes. Please don't do this. Today's lunch hour played out something like this:

1:04 PM:
*Phone rings*
Me: "Hello [company name]"
Other end of the line: "EEEEEE, EEEEEE, BOOO, bip, BOOOO" (fax machine sounds)
Me: (loudly) "THIS IS NOT A FAX LINE"
(I do this because the person sending the fax can usually hear it on the fax speaker)

This repeats at 1:06, 1:09, 1:15 and 1:22.

It has become obvious nobody's supervising the fax machine on the other end. The only way to end this, it seems, is to try to negotiate some kind of compromise between the fax machine and myself. The first step: Establish communication.

So at 1:25 the phone rings and I start yelling into the receiver:

"EEEEEEEEEE, BOOOOOOOOOOOOO, KKHHHHRRRRR"

*pause*

"KKHHHHHRRR"

It's around this point that my co-workers start poking their heads into my office. I casually dismiss them with the universal "One sec, I'm on the phone" hand gesture.

I then continue with intermittent "KKHHHHHRRRR" sounds.

Unfortunately, this does not work and the calls keep coming. On the plus side, I have extended my personal bubble by a few feet.

Recipe: Apple Crumble

Do yourself a favour and make this.

Ingredients:
6 Cups peeled, cored, sliced apples or other fruit
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
Juice of 1/2 lemon
2/3 cup brown sugar or to taste
5 Tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cut into bits, plus butter for greasing the pan
1/2 cup rolled oats
1 Extremely hot single girl (second one optional, third one bonus)
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 cup shredded unsweetened coconut (optional)
1/4 cup chopped nuts (optional)

Instructions
1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit. Toss the fruit with half the cinnamon, the lemon juice and 1 tablespoon of sugar and spread it in a lightly buttered 8 inch square or 9 inch round pan
2. Introduce Jon to Extremely hot single girl(s)
3. Combine all the other ingredients including the the remaining cinnamon and sugar in the container of the food processor and pulse a few times, then process a few seconds more until everything is well incorporated but not uniform. (To mix the ingredients by hand, soften the butter slightly, toss together the dry ingredients, then work in the butter with your fingertips, a pastry blender or a fork).
4. Spread the topping over the apples and bake 30-40 mins, until the topping is browned and the apples are tender. Serve hot, warm, or at room temperature.

Ordinary Tales of Extraordinary Discomfort

I should set up a little background before I go through the sordid details. The "Executive Bathroom" at work (the least filthy of the bathrooms) is situated no more than 10 feet from my desk. It's essentially a normal bathroom except that it's out of bounds to most of the staff. There are no fancy keys, cherub fountains or bowls of candy like you see in the movies.

The owner of the company is in his mid-eighties and only shows up once every month or so to check up on us.

Onto the story.

So the owner decides to pay us a visit a couple of days ago. Around 11 in the morning, I'm working away on some paperwork and he comes into my office to check his stocks on the Internet. We start talking. Mid conversation, he walks into the bathroom. Under the assumption that he was just there to wash his hands or blow his nose, I continued the conversation. This was, until I heard the unmistakable sound of pants unzipping and...uh... number 1. Let me note that the bathroom door is open the entire time.

At this point, I'd lost all interest on the conversation at hand and could only respond with:

"yuh"
"mmm hmm"
"okay"

All the time not paying attention to anything he was saying and looking for a way to politely excuse myself.

I know I'm overreacting but... what the hell, man? Is this an example of workplace efficiency? Of effective multitasking? Am I to repeat this demonstration to my fellow co-workers?

A part of me died that day.