"Filth": The New Coworker...

Everyone has that one coworker. You know the one. The coworker you wish would just accidentally leap in front of the crosstown bus instead of pawning his work off on you, getting caught embezzling, or trying to indulge you in anecdotes about their lives.... of which you could give a shit about when you're quiet obviously in the middle of doing something important. Sadly, I've worked with several of these degenerates, and it was about that time to add a new one to the bunch.

Let's call him Filth.

Filth is a middle-aged, ponytail-toting hippie who not only hasn't washed his hair since 1972, but decides that everyone else in this company is somehow beneath him because we eat meat, we drive cars, we use shampoo. It's strange. The man also has quite the knack for coming up to me and launching into some meaningless story about his life just as I'm about to wrap up a project. At one point I had mentioned where I went to school, and he somehow brushed it off as "Oh. You're one of those." I'm not really sure how to have taken that. I'll probably be paying for my college education for the next 20 years, so he really shouldn't be making any judgments about my financial situation. He also made a comment to my asian coworker, asking her how she distinguishes one asian culture from another, because (and I quote) "they all look the same".

The man has about as much tact as a fucking Riker's inmate. Perhaps this is where he belongs. He does look like he's been shuffled around a cell quite a bit, and if his piss-poor social skills are any indication, I'm almost convinced Filth is out on parole.

He came upstairs earlier today and brought some of his inedible vegan treats for the married receptionist up front. She politely said thank you, but knew better than to eat it. He spent a good 20 minutes talking to her and asking her questions about anything and everything, then it dawned on me. He's actually hitting on her. Jennie walked up to grab something from the fax machine and gave me a look like "He's kidding, right?". After Filth had left to go back under the bridge, I told the receptionist, "Hey, I wouldn't eat that if I were you." She responded genuinely surprised "Oh really?". I asked her if she ever heard of a roofie. She looked way for a second and said "Roof?" I told her to have a good weekend.

Clearly, helping her out would have taken a great deal of effort on my part, and I'm just too fucking tired. Ahhhh another friday tucked away... I'm late for happy hour.

Night, kids.