Sorry it’s been a while. I have been uber stressed with all the holiday planning. There has been a lot that I wanted to share with my readers. Thus, some of my blogs will seem to be a delayed reaction to certain situations.

I really wanted to share this story about an ex co-worker, but I didn’t want to until after the holiday party (in case he was there). Every company has its dose of douche. Unfortunately for us, we had the number one douche. Let’s call him Randy.

Here’s a clip from Office Space to give you a visual on how Randy acted.

When Randy started working here, I’m not going to lie, I was intrigued, along with others. He wasn’t bad to look at. He was like the new kid in our class. We didn’t know anything about him or where he came from. Random meetings with him here and there, never really having a real conversation just made it even more intriguing. Spoke too soon.

When I use to smoke, I would go out for cigarette breaks, he would always be out there. That was the start of my extreme dislike for him. When he would explain what type of guy he was in high school, he explained it as such.

I was the type of guy who looked like James Dean. The whole comb-over, leather jacket, smoking cigarettes kinda deal.

Let’s translate that. Randy really is saying that he thought he was too cool for school, but in reality he didn’t have many friends because of his lack of personality. Wearing his leather jacket made him feel important. It marked his uniqueness. The cigarette thing, I can’t hate on because I was an idiot who started to be cool with the older kids. Gross!

Alright, from that point on, I considered Randy to be a tool. I didn’t know which tool he was in the toolbox, just that he was the biggest one. In time, I figured out he was the hammer, due to the non-stop talking and ideas he tried to hammer in your head. Also, because the headaches he would cause everyone. I think my friend Lynda explained it the best. She stated that he is a “weenie” and that is the best way to describe him. He is the type of guy who would change his demeanor if he saw a black guy (or something close to it). Randy would talk in Ebonics like a fool.

Randy was the type of guy who would come in your office with a cup of coffee and start talking about nonsense. No relation to work. Just information that wasn’t needed. When he would go into an office, my co-workers and I would pretend to be busy. If he was in the break room, I would walk past it, entering the lab, and trust me, I never needed to go in the lab. I didn’t hide the fact I didn’t like him.

Sometimes I wondered why Randy would share embarrassing information to others, and for that matter, why did he think it wouldn’t come back to me? The right person was informed, and they informed me. Like James Dean, he too rode a motorcycle. Apparently, Randy had a bike accident which damaged his junk. I wish I was kidding, but this was a story that he told people at work. Because of such, he had a very painful surgery. OUCH! Again, why did he feel the need to tell people that? After finding that information out, things started to make sense.

Randy is a few years older than me, like four years. However, he would make it seem that he had 10 years on me.  He always tried to pull the “you are too young to remember that” card. When it was his birthday, I was trapped in the break room. I was forced to have a grueling fifteen minute conversation with him because he blocked the door way and I couldn’t get out. Fifteen minutes doesn’t sound like a lot, but it felt like the second hand was at a stand still for hours. Randy explained to me how for men, age 27 is when the sperm count is the highest. First, why would I care? Second, has he ever heard of “Not Safe For Work?” The only explanation for this is because of his inadequacy. A person who is so concerned about their performance or size would know information like that.

It is known that I am always looking at guys’ pants. Well, Randy was no different. He is the type of guy who would wear high wasted pants with a belt. Along with a bright-colored polo shirt tucked in. I don’t think I will ever forget the day where he was the donkey of the company. Everyday, I would walk into my office to find Randy and another male co-worker sitting side-by-side talking about a whole lot of nothing. It was my second to last day with the company. I walk in and I kid you not, I thought my eyes were bleeding from the scene that I witnessed.  Randy was wearing these multi-colored plaid pants. It looked like Christmas morning threw up on him. It was the the middle of November. My first words were, “What? Is it pajama day?” His justification, “They’re Tommy Hilfiger!” That made no difference to me. They could have been by Oscar de La Renta and I would have still thought they were butt ugly.

I can actually say Randy looked like a clown. I wasn’t the only one who thought so. The whole office was utterly shocked. Everyone was tormenting him. It didn’t help that he wore a tight, bright orange shirt tucked in (as usual).  At one point, I was laughing so hard I was crying (that’s a normal occurrence). I imagined him sitting in his office comparing his outfit to the model’s outfit in the magazine that he ordered from. Randy probably thought he was going to be so fashion forward, unfortunately for him, he was the joke of the day. I am pretty sure he left early that day due to his pants. I wonder if he dared to wear those pants after I left. Furthermore, I wonder if he burned those pants.

On aside I found this great band. Check them out. They have a pretty cool vibe. Go on with yo’ bad self and dance in front of the mirror while listening to this song… You know I am.