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How to deal with fucking annoying work colleagues

When I’m not slaving analyst-style, I actually fancy myself as quite the lyricist. What I lack in terms of any sort of remote musical competence, I make up for in my incredible ability to make mutually exclusive words fit together in the context of a song and in life. For example, currently I’m at work and have MC Hammer’s, timeless classic hit ‘Can’t Touch This’ playing in my head. But instead of rapping “Stop!....Hammer time” I have BRILLIANTLY remastered the original song to be “Stop!...Work time” [with the obvious intention that I start work rather than continuing to work on changing the lyrics of other songs to make them motivating]. One could only describe this remaster as a pure act of genius – a fleeting moment of brilliance that will only ever matched be by Kanye’s mind-blowingly amazing rhyming of “God” and “croissant” in his latest album [Guessing/hoping Kim was the one who suggested that]

Work music is so important and is possibly one of the most critical decisions you can make on a daily basis [the most critical being deciding what to eat for lunch….so many times I feel like I’ve consumed more regret than food after deciding to ‘eat healthy’ for lunch…]. Anyway whilst I’d love to espouse that I ‘work best listening to the classical musical stylings of  Bach’ [and cough up my tonsils saying ‘Baaaach’ to indicate that I am a thoroughly pretentious snob], the fact is I’d rather listen to “Call Me Maybe” for any work that doesn’t require a lot of thought. For work that needs to be pumped out urgently, I reserve foreign-language-heavy-metal for that – although one should note that there is a certain risk with listening to Rammstein on repeat: You pick up random German phrases which you start repeating when you meet German people to impress them with you linguistic skills, only to later find that “Te Quiero Puta!” is firstly not even German and secondly means “I love you whore!”….hmm just watch out for that one.

Anyway today, work music is serving a different purpose to assisting me smash out work. I have my noise reduction earphones plugged in and I am desperately seeking any music to help block out the 120-decibel-volume-speaking, ‘I must speak more shit than I excrete on a daily basis’ person who sits near me. I’m sure every workplace has one – someone who has no real impact on your career or workload, but just their general presence and being is so annoying that it is actually harmful to your health – in fact they should be listed as an OH&S hazard.

In keeping with my policy of potential-defamation-suit-minimisation, I should point out that the person that I speak of actually does not exist. ‘Fas’ (or Fucking Annoying Shit as he is sometimes referred to) is just so annoying that it is simply not possible that he is real. I refuse to believe it. After all, how can someone whose voice is so loud that it penetrates not only my noise reduction earphones but also the sound barrier, and who thinks its fine to talk NON-STOP about Collingwood in an open plan office, be real?

More than anything it’s his complete disregard for the etiquette of an open plan office that really grates me. It’s not just speaking loudly…no, Fas is guilty of many more charges:

  • Holding conference calls to all of his personal property managers on speaker phone so all the surrounding desks are privy to the conversation and can learn that he owns sooooo many properties;
  • Religiously wearing a Bluetooth headset to talk loudly about how many properties he owns and presumably make it easier to walk and wank at the same time;
  • Listening to some shitty ‘Collingwood FM’ sports radio without earphones at his desk in open plan because it’s absolutely imperative that he know if the temperature is 17 degrees or 15 degrees because this will seriously affect Collingwood’s playing style;
  • Whilst we’re at it, just being a fucking Collingwood supporter is annoying also;
  • Being able to relay a continuous stream of racists/sexist remarks in any discussion, which makes me wonder whether Fas moonlights as an Alan Jones/Andrew Bolt writer…would explain how he owns sooooooooooooooo many properties;
  • Fas is also the type to send an email (to say ‘X’) then immediately shout out across the office “X, I just sent you an email”…you know in an attempt to fool proof basic technology;
  • He refers to each member of his team (ie. professionals like Fas) as ‘kido’ despite none of them being younger than 12 years old; and
  • Frequently gets his team members to check if his Telstra T-Box has arrived at reception….I swear, he speaks of that fucking T-Box so often that for about 6 months I assumed that he was actually a massive TLC lover and ‘T-Boz’ was actually the name of his first born child.

GAH! It makes me feel stabby!

Oh and don’t forget if it’s MONTH-END [cue Psycho shower scene music]. Fas is an accountant and every, single month, the world’s most boring drama plays out has Fas runs around the office with his douchey Bluetooth headset, shouting to anyone who’ll listen like some town crier, that “it’s month end”, “it’s month end” – as if ‘month-end’ is some accounting premonition that the apocalypse is upon us. Every single month, without fail there’s a drama: “Guys it’s month end, it’s month end, we have to close the ledger, we have to close the ledger….ERMEGHERRRRRRRD!!!! WE HAVE TO CLOSE THE LEDGERRRRR!!!!”

But of course….none of this is possibly real. Fas does not possibly exist because it is completely impossible for someone so annoying to exist. One day I’ll come in and he would have spontaneously combusted from the Bluetooth headset rays combining with the pressure cooker of annoying habits inside him. Until then he’s just not real. He’s not real. He’s not real. He’s not real….

About Arani Satgunaseelan (78 Articles)
Corporate nerd. Wannabe blogger.

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