Actually, it would be more tolerable if he was actually five.
This man is old enough to be my dad (except I’d kill myself if he was). He intentionally tries to annoy me (my boss has said so. I assumed he was an asshole to everyone). I swear he’s holding a contest to see how loud he can be in the morning. He’ll walk by and pound on my monitor. No, really POUND on the top of my monitor. Every single time he turns something in he says ‘should I give it to you? Or put it over in the box?’ He insists on informing me when he’s going to the restroom (or as he likes to put it ‘make water’). He sings all the time even though EVERYONE in the office has told him not to. (He’s not quite William Hung bad, but he’s darn close)
He swears at the printers and fax machines. Often. (Okay, they suck, but still) He swears at the copy machines. He makes a huge deal every time I don’t do something exactly as he wants. He’s computer illiterate (they’re all pretty much computer illiterate - don’t get me started), so my trying to explain to him, hey that picture in your folder is the same size as the one I emailed you, does no good. If I misstype a word, it’s as big a deal as if I just replaced the company logo with a giant turd.
We have sample labels that all the salespeople use. The head salesperson also has his own samples with his name on them. When the generic samples run out, Mr. Five-Year-Old steals the Head Salesmans labels. And whines. And bitches.
When they run out of flyers he whines and bitches. No, he never mentions that they’re getting low. Just that they’re out. I’m not actually the one in charge of flyers. When I can’t do something for him RIGHT NOW he whines and bitches. Hey asshole, maybe if you wouldn’t leave at TWO every day, you’d get more done.
We ran out of clear laminate for the labels. I don’t track that - I don’t laminate the labels. Who does he call and bitch to and ask if we have ANY at all? Not the warehouse, who is in charge of it. ME. And I have to explain multiple times in fine detail that I have no idea if we have any, seeing as, in fact, it’s not my job. Ask the warehouse, asshole. He’s done this multiple times.
He walks by my desk to tell me the same thing over and over again. ‘Hey, we have bagels’ So I heard. ‘We have bagels’ Yes, you told me. ‘Don’t you want a bagel?’ No, I want you to go die somewhere.
No, I’m not a nice person. No, I don’t like you. Yes, I really mean it when I say if I was related to you, I’d kill myself. YES, I’M FUCKING IGNORING YOU. Why? Because you’re acting like a fucking moronic assholey child.
I’ll take the new guy’s tantrums in the other room at the top boss, because he can’t get an advance. I’ll take the Head Salesman’s ‘why haven’t you signed these off? They can be shipped’ (because, it’s not the end of the pay period, so there’s no rush and I have this STACK of all things to be printed first.) I’ll even take the boss’s ‘PRINT! Why aren’t ALL the printers going?’ (because the printers are waiting for the computer. Or I’m too tired to run between the two computers). But Mr. Five-Year-Old? I’ve put up with this shit for two years - when I snap, he’ll be the reason.
(also, goddammit my leg hurts! Stupid table corner)