So I hate my only coworker.
Welcome to the first edition of double yew tee eff Walt.
No one really likes Walt. It's getting to the point where Mr. Cree and I laugh about him and the instant method of forming a friendship with someone else who knows him is to shudder when his name is spoken. He doesn't have many redeeming features that I can note. I'm a pretty tolerant person. I don't like many people but I can tolerate the rest. But I think he might be the... dimmest person I have ever been close to for so long. I can't stand him.
Thoughts in italic ()'s, actions in bold []'s.
On the morning car ride:
Him: "I learned something interesting yesterday."
Me: [finding solace in the window] "Oh?" (probably something dorky)
Him: "One of the people that I sold a brand-new computer to has cancer."
Me: (WTFAREYOUTELLINGMETHISFOR.) "Oh."
Him: "And," [impressed tone] "It's cancer of the lymphnodes."
Me: (I wonder if he knows what those are) "Oh."
Him: "And he was a teacher at Warren."
Me: (Fuck, this is awkward.) "Uhm. Okay. That sucks."
Him: "I don't know if you knew him. Mr. [somenamehere]?"
Me: "Nah."
Him: [disgusted tone] "You really don't care, do you?"
Me: "Walt, I've never met the guy... and you just randomly told me he had
cancer." (OHDEARGAWD, JUSTKEEPINGLOOKINGOUTTHEWINDOW)
Him: "Well, he was a teacher at Warren. And we both go to Warren."
Me: (Went.) "Okay."
Him: "..."
Me: "..." (Window.)
As close as I've been able to figure out upon further reflection and the wonders of hindsight-- He wanted pity for HIMSELF. He wanted me to say, "Oh, this must be so hard on you." or something. Like when he turned casual conversation with the bosses about the East Coast into how his uncle had a stroke while driving, got into an accident and can never drive again. He really can't tell a story without bringing up some incredibly personal detail and waiting expectantly for a response.
I hate those expectant pauses for responses. Back to work.
When Walt ensnared a poor teacher who had a problem with their laptop:
[Teacher comes in]
Teacher: "I can't do so-and-so. [describes problem]"
Walt: "I can help. Come with me."
[Half an hour passes. I go out to ask about a missing CD. I come back.]
Me: "...He's telling them the theory behind ghosting."
Mr. Cree: "Oh man. Him and Mr. Yundt... they just don't stop."
[15 minutes pass]
Mr. Cree: "Well, I'm going to go rescue that poor teacher from their misery."
Me: "Godspeed."
Mr. Cree: "Crap, here he comes." [scurries back to chair]
Walt: "Hey, Mr. Cree, this teacher has [same problem as when they first came in an hour ago]"
[Walt leaves.]
Mr. Cree: "Olga, take care of this, will you? I need to run over to district."
Me: "Sure."
[10 minutes later]
Me: "All set."
Teacher: "[incredibly gratified look] Thank you so much."
I'm not against talking with teachers. Most teachers like to strike up conversation. But at least chat while you do your damn job. Don't spend an hour talking about your computer set up at home and then, eventually, shift the problem into someone else's hands. Especially after you admit you can't do anything for them.
Another one, when we just got off work:
Him: "Man, I'm going to be driving with a foot made of depleted uranium cells!"
Me: "What the fuck, Walt? That made no sense."
Him: "Well, they're heavy."
Me: "...Yeah...."
Him: "Lead foot?"
Me: "Oh. o_O;"
No one really likes Walt. It's getting to the point where Mr. Cree and I laugh about him and the instant method of forming a friendship with someone else who knows him is to shudder when his name is spoken. He doesn't have many redeeming features that I can note. I'm a pretty tolerant person. I don't like many people but I can tolerate the rest. But I think he might be the... dimmest person I have ever been close to for so long. I can't stand him.
Thoughts in italic ()'s, actions in bold []'s.
On the morning car ride:
Him: "I learned something interesting yesterday."
Me: [finding solace in the window] "Oh?" (probably something dorky)
Him: "One of the people that I sold a brand-new computer to has cancer."
Me: (WTFAREYOUTELLINGMETHISFOR.) "Oh."
Him: "And," [impressed tone] "It's cancer of the lymphnodes."
Me: (I wonder if he knows what those are) "Oh."
Him: "And he was a teacher at Warren."
Me: (Fuck, this is awkward.) "Uhm. Okay. That sucks."
Him: "I don't know if you knew him. Mr. [somenamehere]?"
Me: "Nah."
Him: [disgusted tone] "You really don't care, do you?"
Me: "Walt, I've never met the guy... and you just randomly told me he had
cancer." (OHDEARGAWD, JUSTKEEPINGLOOKINGOUTTHEWINDOW)
Him: "Well, he was a teacher at Warren. And we both go to Warren."
Me: (Went.) "Okay."
Him: "..."
Me: "..." (Window.)
As close as I've been able to figure out upon further reflection and the wonders of hindsight-- He wanted pity for HIMSELF. He wanted me to say, "Oh, this must be so hard on you." or something. Like when he turned casual conversation with the bosses about the East Coast into how his uncle had a stroke while driving, got into an accident and can never drive again. He really can't tell a story without bringing up some incredibly personal detail and waiting expectantly for a response.
I hate those expectant pauses for responses. Back to work.
When Walt ensnared a poor teacher who had a problem with their laptop:
[Teacher comes in]
Teacher: "I can't do so-and-so. [describes problem]"
Walt: "I can help. Come with me."
[Half an hour passes. I go out to ask about a missing CD. I come back.]
Me: "...He's telling them the theory behind ghosting."
Mr. Cree: "Oh man. Him and Mr. Yundt... they just don't stop."
[15 minutes pass]
Mr. Cree: "Well, I'm going to go rescue that poor teacher from their misery."
Me: "Godspeed."
Mr. Cree: "Crap, here he comes." [scurries back to chair]
Walt: "Hey, Mr. Cree, this teacher has [same problem as when they first came in an hour ago]"
[Walt leaves.]
Mr. Cree: "Olga, take care of this, will you? I need to run over to district."
Me: "Sure."
[10 minutes later]
Me: "All set."
Teacher: "[incredibly gratified look] Thank you so much."
I'm not against talking with teachers. Most teachers like to strike up conversation. But at least chat while you do your damn job. Don't spend an hour talking about your computer set up at home and then, eventually, shift the problem into someone else's hands. Especially after you admit you can't do anything for them.
Another one, when we just got off work:
Him: "Man, I'm going to be driving with a foot made of depleted uranium cells!"
Me: "What the fuck, Walt? That made no sense."
Him: "Well, they're heavy."
Me: "...Yeah...."
Him: "Lead foot?"
Me: "Oh. o_O;"