Oy! This man! There’s an attorney here who either has a really big crush on me (a theory held by the guys in the mailroom, a theory about which they don’t let one day go by without reminding me and anyone else who will listen—I swear, they’re like high school children, which is another thread all by itself) or is intent on torturing me until I’m driven insane.
A typical day of torture starts with him calling to ask me a question to which he very well knows he knows the answer. Fine. I bite, answer the question thoroughly and then offer a smart-ass comment telling him he knew that and he should call our help desk, as that’s their job and not mine. An hour will pass, he’ll call again with some fabricated ‘problem’, I solve it, offer another smart-ass comment and tell him to call the help desk. Rinse. Repeat, ad-fucking-nauseum.
Around 12:30, he’ll call me, ask me if I’ve had lunch yet, and I’ll politely, yet firmly, decline.
We go through this about twice a month. I did go to lunch with him once; it was fine as, when he’s not being a complete cock, he’s actually pretty interesting. As there’s enough of a rumor mill going around, however, I really don’t want to add fodder to it by going to lunch with this guy on a regular basis.
Today, however, I just want to punch him in his junk. Hard. So he’s having trouble with an automated process in a Microsoft Office product. He calls me all frustrated and pissed off wanting me to answer a specific question about one piece of a function in Word. I ask him a few questions about his data source and he gets all pissy because, of course, he knows what he’s doing–he doesn’t–and he’s done this a dozen times before–he hasn’t–and if I don’t know what I’m doing–I do–then I should stop wasting his time–I’m not–and give him the name of the person who can best assist him. I tell him to call the help desk as that’s their job. He tells me he doesn’t want to deal with them as they’re useless–he’s right–and wants the name of a specific person. I acquiesce, give him her name and he hangs up on me. Fine. Good riddance, asshole. Of course, she’s not there and, because he’s got nuts of brass, he calls me back asking for help.
I go to his office, and ask him to start from the beginning so I can see just where the process is breaking. I warn him that I’m going to have to leave, as I’ve got to go start a process in a few minutes, but will be back to help him. He huffs and puffs, sounding remarkably like my four-year-old. In the midst of his frenzied mouse clicking, I discover at least one part of the problem. I tell him what he needs to do and, before I can caution him he needs to paste it a certain way, he’s already done it the wrong way. Jesus Christ. I tell him, look, I know you’re frustrated and I’m trying to help, but if you won’t listen, I can’t help you. He yells (!!) at me to tell me he IS listening and, in a complete fuck-this-shit moment, I just walk out of his office.
Ten minutes later, he’s in my office, penitent and apologetic offering explanations that he’s under pressure and he’s sorry he yelled at me and he wants my help and he’s sorry and pressure, sorry, pressure, more sorry and more crap about pressure. I tell him to give the information to his secretary and I’ll work with her because I’m not going to work with him. He damn near begs me to work with him, but I hold my ground and tell him if he wants my help with this, I’m not going to work with him as he’s just going to pass it to her anyway.
This isn’t the first time this has happened, either. It’s like having a whiny, clingy, nearly-psychotic boyfriend, but at work. I haven’t even gone into the late-night and weekend email messages sent via Blackberry, the daily half-dozen visits to my office and having me paged when it’s not even urgent.
Christ al-fucking-mighty! I don’t have this much drama with my husband, and I’m fucking him!
I just needed to vent, if you got this far, thanks.
–While I was reviewing this, he called and asked if he could come see me. This ought to be fun, in a getting-stitches-sans-local-anesthesia kind of way.–