Dead Fish and Debbie Gibson

I'm consuming lots of caffeine today, as I fell asleep during last week's episode of "The Office" after looking forward to it all day.

In honor of tonight's season finale, I'd like to start the "This Just In Co-Worker Hall of Fame." Here's a few of the interesting folks I've toiled with over the years. Feel free to add your own nominees.

Disclaimer: I currently work with none of these people. And at least one of them is dead.

1. The editor with the bad combover (is there such a thing as a *good* combover?) who wrote a memo addressed to me taking me to task for not using enough verbs (“Verbs are the building blocks of good sentence structure…”), put the memo in my personnel file but never actually showed it to me. I think he was ashamed of his own lack of good verb usage.

2. The Dwight-esque Debbie Gibson worshiping coworker who talked me into critiquing his science fiction short story, which was horrible. Thank goodness he wasn’t a deputy…

3. The septuagenarian prim and proper publisher who would sit in her office belching loudly after lunch.

4. The reporter who spent an afternoon acting out and singing selections from his self-written musical, “I’m Schizophrenic and So Am I.” (This was actually very cool. And what was even cooler was that my editor would only let him do it if he went and bought us ice cream first.)

5. The psycho teen who dumped a truckload of dead fish on the porch of the restaurant I used to work at after he’d been fired for (a) goofing off all the time and (b) taking advantage of the free food for employees policy. If only the spaz had come back and ate all the fish, that weekend would have been a lot less stinky.


Happy Thursday (again).