I’m not the kind of person who makes many friends at work. To be completely honest, I don’t make many friends in general. I think the last two friends I made was via Craigslist. Unfortunately, I never did get a back rub, which is only right because I did mislead them into thinking the BBC I had for them stood for something other than British Broadcasting Corporation.
Today, I made as close of a friend at work as I think I ever will. I’ve been there for two and a half weeks now and have accomplished my goal of not getting too close to anyone. At a former job, I used to play a game to see how long I could go without talking to anyone else. I made it through the entire day until one person said goodbye as I was leaving.During the company’s Thanksgiving feast I discovered that one of my coworkers plays professional baseball and this is only a job he has in the offseason. Intrigued, I asked him more and ended up stuck in a conversation I couldn’t leave. Who knew jocks could take something you love and make it sound so boring?
It was a nice moment, though. I’ve felt out-of-place there. I’m one of the few there that don’t speak Spanish. I’m also probably the most white-collar person there. This says a lot because I have holes in the crotch of all my jeans.
While everyone at work is friendly and helpful to me, I’m not sure how well I’ll fit in. I don’t need to have friends there, but it would be nice to have a continued topic to discuss with a coworker. Although, I do fear baseball will end up breaking up a lot of awkward silences and I wish it had more meaning.
My work day was not perfect. Even though I started an alliance, I came close to ruining everything.
The bathroom door to the men’s room doesn’t lock. Either no one is aware of this or my coworkers are exhibitionists and voyeurs. I’m not about to dip down that rabbit hole…
…and by rabbit I don’t mean butt.
One of the company’s owners was there today and I came inches away from catching him on the toilet. It was only when I heard the sink through the door that I stopped and retreated back to my desk as if I didn’t have to pee really bad. If not for indoor plumbing, I would’ve made a really bad impression on a guy I just met an hour earlier.
I think the worst thing about catching someone taking a dump is that you have to see their knees. Everything else is protected, but their old hairy, knobby knees are poking out above their lowered pants. The only exception to this being the worst part of it is if they’re in the middle of wiping. What if I startle them and cause a finger to go too far where it doesn’t belong? I can’t live with the guilt.
Thankfully, I avoided that faux pas. Later, though, I had to awkwardly tap on the other owner’s car window and politely ask him to move his car because he was blocking me.
For a normal person this might not seem like a big deal. For me, it’s terrible.
I’m incredibly neurotic and here’s how:
I knew he was blocking my car. Rather than immediately just ask him like a normal person, I sat in my car and pretended to make a phone call hoping that he’d either see and figure it out or leave on his own. After a few minutes I knew he wasn’t going anywhere. So I had to do two taps on the passenger side window to alert him. He looked him and boy did he have no reaction at all. It wasn’t until I pointed at my car that he pieced it together. Then he smiled (or at least I’m going to pretend he did) then pulled out. I gave him one of those “talk to the hand waves” we give strangers when our voices can’t do the talking. He did the same.
Now I’ll spend the next few days wondering how much he hates me because that’s the kind of nonsense running through my head.
Given the choice, I would’ve picked seeing the other guy poop.