Dear Asshat Officemate,

I realize that I will have to share an office with you until May, and here are a couple of pointers on how this can be a more pleasant experience for both of us:

  • Cut down on the fucking cologne. I gag every time I pick up the phone, even if you haven’t been here for two days, because it reeks of your cologne. The new stuff is slightly better than the patchouli, but not by much. It’s especially disgusting when mixed with the stench of your cigarettes. And it spreads. We can all tell where you’ve been in the building beacuse it follows you and it sticks.
  • Cut down on the Downy you put in the dryer. I understand that the actors get whiny when their clothes aren’t fabric-softened, but you get to stick stuff in the dryer and leave. When you use twice as much Downy as necessary, I’m stuck here with a headache. We’re in the basement. Ventilation is a myth.
  • Get your shit out of my storage areas. That huge fucking make-up box? I will throw it out if it’s in my cupboard in one week. Same goes from the costumes that have been sitting on my storage shelves for two months. Do you think I don’t need that space? Move it or lose it.
  • Don’t you ever fucking touch me again.
  • When you make appointments, keep them. My job is not to sit here awkwardly making conversation with people who are waiting for you until they give up and leave. Neither is my job to haul over 150 costumes down the stairs because you weren’t here when the dry cleaning was delivered.
  • I am not your answering machine. You’re supposed to be here 9-5 on Wednesdays. You were here 1230 to 230 today. I have to tell people to call you on Wednesdays. What do I tell them today?
    Okay, are you ready for the big one? Here it comes…
  • Stop bringing your skeezy, creepy, moronic boyfriend to work. He creeps me out. Sometimes he helps you with the laundry, but mostly he just sits at my worktable and stares at me. Sometimes he writes on it. I moved some newspaper yesterday and saw that he had written our three names in a nice script handwriting. I almost threw up. Today was the last straw. I came back from lunch, and there was all of his stuff, sitting on my chair. Not my chair at the worktable, the one he usually sits his fat butt in when he feels like staring into space/at me. No, the chair at my desk. What in the hell made him think that this was an okay idea? He mumbled something about being sorry when I moved it, but did he appear to decide to move it himself? No. He just dumped on my chair, waited for me to move it, and mumbled. I find this to be typical behavior on his part.
    So if you could keep these things in mind while we share an office until May, I would appreciate it. Unless you get fired before then, which I fully expect.
    Thank you,
    Your Officemate.

Can you talk to your boss about any of this?

The names on the table thing really is creepy.

Are you the one leaving in May?

I would start enjoying myself.

You think she smells bad? Buy even worse perfume and spray it on her stuff when she isn’t around. Spray it in her purse if you can when she isn’t looking.

Stare back at the boyfriend. I mean really stare.

Remove things from the dryer and hide them. Pour some of the smelly perfume in the Downy. It would be great if you could get your hands on some of her perfume to spray on the clothes. That way people think they smell like her.

Pile all her junk that is in your space up on her desk. When boyfriend leaves stuff on your chair pretend like it is a present.

If you realy want to get back at her tell anyone who calls for her that she has been fired. If she is never there to get the phone, how will she know?? If she confronts you about it, well just deny everything. How can she prove it? Eventualy people will stop calling for her.

Take her make up kit and booby trap it. There are a few ways to go about it. One is to varnish everything in place. Lets see her use it when it is all varnished in place. Another, and this will work on her desk too, is to hide mouse traps in it. As soon as she reaches for something she will get a snapping good suprise.

The dry cleaning and the costumes are an easy fix. Just send them back. Tell the delivery guy that you cant sighn for them and that he has to keep them. It will piss him off, but he will keep them. Let her figure out that they havent arrived yet.

The downy is another easy fix. Put bleach in it. The downy will mask the smell of the bleach, but her shit will still be ruined. If she is the “none too bright” type, you can always just pop the circuit breaker to the laundry machines. She will think that they are broke and wont use them.

The boyfriend part can be fun. To start, next time his shit is on your chair just put it in the trash. To keep him off of the chairs just loosen a leg on each of them. As soon as few fall apart from under him he will get the message. You can also make the chairs vanish into a closet or some thing. Same thing goes for the table. losten it up so that if he leans on it, it will come crashing down. Then make a big stink and make him look like the ass hole.

then there is also this:

and this:

A vital point: my officemate is male. I’m afraid that if I complain about the boyfriend he’ll complain I’m homophobic. I’m not homophobic. I’m skeezyphobic.
I’ve mentioned it in passing to my boss. And his boss. I think I may go talk to his boss soon about things like territorial lines and not bringing in creepy boyfriends.
If he was the person wearing the clothes, I might put bleach in the Downy. However, he’s washing costumes. I work at a theatre. If I destroyed the costumes I’d get fired. Also, I really like the costume people and I have to live with one of them. I’m in props, and I share the prop shop with the wardrobe guy. I’m the one leaving in May, but I’m not leaving the organization, just moving to an office across the street.
Another woman who works here was doing her personal laundry today when the boyfriend needed to use the dryer. She wasn’t around at the time, she came back to get it just now. Direct quote: “Oh, he did my laundry! That was nice! Woah, he folded it. Oh, God, he folded my underwear! He touched my underwear! EEW!” She was also creeped out when I showed her the table, which I’ve now erased. Thank god it was in pencil. I’d hate to have to get out the paint.