Another Insightful and Productive Day With Gary

Oh yay. We had an assignment change at work, and guess who I get to train and work with? It's my favorite person ever: GARY!!!

I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL MYSELF!!

I was in such a good mood only to have it ruined by a 6'4" douche in navy blue twill slacks that are about 6 inches too short,



black socks, orthopedic shoes,



and a blue plaid shirt.



That's all he ever wears. Oh, and glasses that slide down to the end of his nose that I just want to snatch off his face and crush with my shoe. It's never anything different, and it's gotten to the point where I can't even look at him anymore without wanting to slit my wrists. But at least he got a haircut. The next thing that needs to go is that awful Ditka mustache.



I had to move seats to get him out of my field of vision, as I know I would just become more enraged by looking at those stupid pants. Gary, I hate your pants so much.

What you need to know about Gary is that he thinks he is the most funny, charming man alive, and he constantly feels the need to fill silences in the room with corny jokes that everyone is forced to laugh politely at. I thought maybe this day would be different since it's already 9 am, and he hasn't made a complete jackass out of himself.

I was wrong.

From about 9:30 am to around lunch time there was a massive carpet bombing of bad jokes, puns, and retarded, vapid, and useless questions and comments. Oh, he was saving it for us! It started with him staring at a projector and singing "She blinded me with science!" WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!?! I physically cringed and put my head down on my desk as my co-worker Nikki and I looked at each with looks of complete disgust on our faces. Nikki told him to shut the hell up and sit down. Nikki doesn't mince words. I love her.

After my nausea passed from the projector incident, we had to do this training class. I was having trouble logging in and after a minute or so, I figured out my number lock key wasn't on.



A normal person would just move on, but not funny, witty Gary who had to launch into an argument against the existance of a number lock key. Oh Gary, I just love your observational humor on keyboard keys. Please, I want to hear your three point essay on why they should eliminate the number lock key because you feel it's useless and pointless much like your existence. By all means, continue, fucktard.

So Gary rambles on another 10 minutes about the number lock key until it was time for my lunch break. I had to get out of that room. It was sucking the life out of me, and if I heard any more nonsense from that asshole, my brain was going to explode. I go back to my desk ON ANOTHER FLOOR and this motherfucker follows me and keeps babbling in my ear about something. By this time, I'm starting to get pretty good at just blocking him out like a bad molestation memory. He's there in front of me saying stuff, but I just nod politely and say "oh, yeah?" or "really?" every once in a while. He's so into his own voice and what he's saying that he doesn't even notice.

So I'm sitting and looking out the window trying to eat my lunch and plot my way out of this hellhole before I snap even though I've completely lost my appetite. Dummy asks me, "Would you rather fall to your death, die from smoke inhalation, or be burned to death?" We are on the 28th floor, so that question kind of unnerved me, but I think I told him I'd rather pass out from smoke inhalation and die. What I really wanted to tell him was that I would totally piggy-back ride him down and use him to break my fall and possibly live. Maybe his stupid plaid shirts would offer some wind resistance. Who the hell knows?

I can tell this isn't going to end well. One of us is going to walk out, end up in tears, or have a nervous breakdown. I think I'm heading for the latter. Why am I here?