Saturday, July 15, 2006

the skeevy intern

yes, i have a 46 year old intern....i'm not being harsh when i describe him as a balding little troll with brown teeth. i was briefly introduced to him on his first day here and thankfully never saw him again until he apparently irked everyone with both his personality and his incompetence to the point that finally someone said "why don't you go down the hall and talk to aurelgrooves, maybe she can give you some work to do." thanks losers.
i offered several projects he could assist with to which he replied, "no offense, but that sounds kind of boring." listen dude, you're an intern. secondly, this is what we do. and fuck you for calling my work boring. and here's when i made it clear that i'm not too happy about it either, but it's part of life. you get a few months of fun work followed by a lot of months of boring crap and you just have to deal. welcome to life. welcome to government work. and welcome to me, grumpy. don't piss me off.
anyway, i finally got him to do something slightly less boring, and if he had any brains or cleverness, he would have found a shortcut like i usually do, finished the job in an hour and then sat back and read blogs all day. but no. he's truly an idiot. i'm now kicking myself for having given him this project because every two minutes he's in my cube asking, stupid questions he could answer himself if he had any capacity to learn...he asks in his nasally new jersey accent, "there's a box that comes up. should i click it?"
what does the box say
"it asks if i want to overwrite the existing file.
"well, i don't know, do you?!
and to avoid what will inevitably be a 12minute explanation for something really trivial, i get up, walk across the hall, down the stairs and zig zag through cubicles to find his computer displaying the lingering overwrite question box. i cancel and look through his files and there are about 150 of them, all named things like:
type filename here

i let out a big sigh, thinking about the 26 page manuscript i'm in the middle of finishing for a deadline in two hours, and simply can't find the energy to deal with this guy. i ask him to explain his strategy, what he's trying to do and why he's using this method when i'm confronted with his inability to start and end a sentence. like with nouns and verbs and stuff? no, he just talks jibberish in interwinding circles, interjecting phrases and can't seem to explain a single thought in his head...
were you a banker before or something? and decided to go back to grad school? my inner monologue is urgently questioning his career change.
finally, instead of trying to teach him, or letting him figure it out for himself, i run the thing, click here and there...voila.
he turns to me with this way-too-sincere leery "thank you."
totally grossed out, i turn to leave.
"no really, i have never seen anyone work so deftly and as fast as you."
uh thanks
"and can i say something, i mean, i'm happily married. i just want to re-iterate that. i'm happily married" something he has already stated several times, almost daily. he points to a picture of a woman whom i presume is his wife (poor woman) and then continues into a 15 minute string of compliments on my eyes.
"your eyes are just stunning. so green! i love it when you wear glasses. has anyone ever told you that" at this point, i'm shuddering and holding back the bile in my mouth trying to humour myself at the fact that he's using the classic french pickup line "t'as de beaux yeux, tu sais" (which i think comes from this movie) when i'm contemplating either dialing human resources to report this pervert or just escape into the sounds of the cubes surrounding me which are quite obivously suppressed laughs and giggles. i can recognize the snickers of the center fielder from my softball team whom i just want to whack with my notebook.
if this is sexual harassment, this is the most pathetic example. i would much rather be hit on by the hot guy in IT. nevertheless, HR is on my speed dial, and you know what, i'm going home and derive a plot to humiliate this guy. and at least the latinos who whistle at me on the street have a friggin' sense of humour.

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