If You're Crazy and You Know It, Clap Your Hands

A lot of you know that I’m considering making some major changes in my life. The economy seems primed to cram changes down my throat, so I may as well catch that wave and surf it on in. One of the things that’s likely to change is my daytime employment.

I’ve know this was possible for months on end, and I’ve posted about layoffs here in the past, so I’ve had a lot of time to envision how this would all wind down and what the aftermath would be. Hell, I’ve even started cleaning out my desk – I’ve been here for eleven years, so I have a truly astonishing amount of personal crap that needs to be eliminated.

While you visualize walking out the door, leaving behind a spotless office, you naturally imagine your goodbyes. And there is one woman in particular that I cannot wait to say goodbye to. She’s a wackadoo of major proportions. A bad case of OCD, coupled with a severe mean streak and the tendency to cry if she doesn’t get her way. (Nic is laughing when she’s reading this, because she knows exactly who I mean.)

Years ago, I saw this woman threw a giant public screaming fit because the document copies that had been delivered to her had the corner staples at the wrong angle. Seriously. She cried, threw things, insisted that everyone was being mean to her on purpose, and told the entire office that we were lazy because we lacked her attention to detail. Apparently the copier puts the staples parallel to the top page edge, whereas our heroine the nutjob thinks they should be at a 45-degree angle. Then she started wailing like a five year old (complete with hiccups and snot bubbles) and ran away to the ladies’ room.

She does this crap ALL. THE. TIME.

I’ve tried to be sympathetic to her, because she’s very clearly troubled, but she’s so darn mean that it’s difficult. She keeps lists of imagined slights by people and distributes them regularly. It’s hard to say, “aw, poor thing” when HR is standing in your doorway with the latest list of what you did during the past year.

Her malicious insanity is legendary.

So, when I leave here, do I say something to her? Like, “You’ve been horrible, I hope I never see you again?”

No, too mean. I could say, “I beg of you, get help.” The problem, of course, is that she has no idea that she’s batshit crazy, and it seems too mean-spirited to tell her.

I am not by nature a mean person, so I’m sure when the moment arrives I’ll just sneak out the back door and not say anything.

Though I am giggling at the idea of spending my last week sneaking into her files and stapling every single document on all four sides.
PS – if you freak out and have crying fits in your workplace on a regular basis, you’re batshit crazy, too.

See, I’m not afraid to be mean in cyberspace!