Physco coworkers you have known...

Inspired by the backstabbing “What’s the worst thing a co-worker has done to you?” thread, it started me thinking of phsyco coworkers I’ve known. My list is short.

1 - “Pam”. Late thirties, homely person with a great phone personality that never carried over to real life. Worked as a travel agent 8 or so years in the same office and no one liked her. Being the new kid, my desk was put behind hers so I could stare at the back of her head all day while on the phone. While she talked she would pull out chunks of hair and make hairballs on her desk. How she managed to have a head of nearly waist length hair amazed me after the months I saw her do this.( I moved my desk away from her as soon as that thought hit me.) She stopped doing this after I told her that her " hair ball had fallen off the desk." ( My boss and coworker both spit out their pops when I did.)( I love being me sometimes.)

Also, she would wear a down winter jacket in JULY, citing she was cold. I bitched at her that it was 90-friggin’ degrees outside and how could she be cold without the A/C on in our office? She placed her hand on my forearm to show me how cold she was and you know what? My hands were colder. That stopped the coat wearing in July.

Another time in the winter she came in complaining that the guy who lived downstairs in the upstairs flat they were renting off of him had gone on vacation for a month and turned off the heat ( What a fucking idiot) and they were living in sleeping bags by space heaters they had to buy to keep warm. My boss was lamenting along with her and my coworker and I just rolled our eyes not wanting to get sucked in. However, having a friend who went thru this very scenario of renting the top half of a house and the downstairs landlady turned off the heat when she went to work at night ( who are these morons?), I felt obligated to share it with Pam. Finding out that Yes,they paid for heat in their rent to the landlady/tenant below, I said, " You have a legal right to your heat. Go get a brick and let yourself in through a window.( Or use a drill and drill through the lock. I gave several options, but the brick is always the fastest.) Go inside and turn on the heat then board up that window and change the fuckin’ locks on the doors downstairs leaving a note to the idiot landlady that until she refunds a partial payment of that months rent and reimburses you for the cost of the locks on the door, she ain’t gettin’ into her house.

(What kind of moron turns off the heat in a house in the winter in Michigan.The repair bill alone on frozen pipes would be in the thousands, to say the least.) This last paragraph could be another thread known as,
" Fuckwads I’ve known."
Then, towards the end of Pam’s lack luster career ( she had no sales, no clients other than phsyco’s and no friends at the office. After a decade? What the hell was she doing all day long?) she came into work one day gasping for air like a fish out of water. Our direct boss, a very sympathetic but gullible person, immediately rushed to help her.
( another coworker and I just rolled our eyes waiting to see what THIS would be) Pam said she couldn’t swallow since last night and now couldn’t breath and had an appointment for the doctor’s office at 11am ( it was 9a) Before my boss could " oh dear" her, I piped up, " Why in the hell didn’t you go to emergency. You have insurance from here and your husband works for one of the Big Three ( Ford, Chrysler,GM) and has excellent insurance. Her response was, " But I didn’t want to be late." My coworker shot back ( as heartless as I) " You haven’t been on time in 8 years, why should one more day matter?"

( She use to have the 8am -4pm shift, which was coveted because between 8-9am, the office was dead and you got out at 4p before the rush hit. (“Pam” would suddenly get really busy every day at 345p and stay until 7p, getting comp time. Her sales were the lowest in the office ( like selling one ticket a day compared to my 40-50.) but she had the highest comp time. She manipulated the time clock to show that she was arriving on time, but was actually getting there at 855a. It took my coworker and I about two months to figure out how she did it and we busted her. What happened from that was no one ever got comp time again, and ‘Pam’ was yanked from the shift, leaving the rest of us to fight over it in the usual whiney fashion.
The other phsyco’s:
" Jackie". She lost her wedding ring and couldn’t come into work for two days until she found it. Chain smoked constantly and had a voice like gravel. She was all of 42 and didn’t think smoking was bad for her. Only had one child because labor was unbearable.

" Wanda" was a 28 year old southern born girl who’d never had a job in her life. (Outside of being a Rockafeller, how does one make it to being 28 without any job experience?) It didn’t take long to realize she had the IQ of a dead gerbil and the personality of wet bread and her entire life was living on the couch watching soaps and talk shows. Her husband, (the nicest fellow who must have had to put on a blindfold and headphones to screw her because she was not attractive at all and her personality was definately lacking), talked the owners ( different job than the Pam story) into hiring her part time to help with the evening rush at the video store ( yeah, real rocket science) I worked at. She was suppose to work 4-8 pm. Since I was there from 930am to 1015pm daily, I took an hour lunch in the back while Wanda would stand out front watching movies ( No problem there). When it came time for her break ( 15 minutes) she would leave for an hour. I told her she had fifteen minutes, not an hour. She was leaving during the peak times. Wanda was like, " But yoooou get an hour." I explained that I was there all day and by law I was entitled to this, while she was entitled to that. blah blah blah" (Bear in mind, I’m 19 she’s 28.) This scenario went on for several weeks and the exact conversation kept on taking place. I had no power to fire,but legally I could strangle her at any time for stupidity, so I told my boss to cover my shift for me one day to see what I had to deal with.( he worked a full time job in the real world and only managed the money and hiring, I did everything else.) He worked with her for all of three hours and fired her. She came in the next day to work with me and I re-fired her and called her husband and left a message on their answering machine. I suppose she’s living on the couch while her husband supports her cable and twinkie habit.
I had a say from that moment on on who I work with and never got stuck with another Wanda again.

ok there was this one guy we worked with he was in our Dept. he was nuts. he lied about everything and was never where he was supposed to be. but always “seemed” to have legit reasons where he was at the time. anyhow to make a long story short we hated him and he hated us, needless to say after about a year of hell he finally quit but before he did went up and told our head boss his wife was pissed cause he was quitting and if they got a divorce cause of this the people in our Dept would all pay dearly! Yikes! freak alert!

Love Always,
Heather Lee

I really don’t have anything to add, but I just wanted to say THANK YOU to Shirley for making me laugh my ass off.

I currently work with three psycho women in my office. When I first started here, they loved me. We would talk all the time, even off the clock. They would share anecdotes with me, laugh at my jokes, just have a good time. Well, one day they found out that I do not share their religious beliefs. Literally, overnight, I became the office pariah. I wasn’t even the one who informed them about my spiritual beliefs–it was the office bitch that pretends to be friends with whoever is around at the time.

Not only do these women not voluntarily speak to me anymore, they do all kinds of weird shit. When they first found out that I am not Christian, they plastered every non-moving surface with scripture quotes and fish symbols (including the Kleenex boxes!) We each have our own notebooks that we keep information in and since I work the third shift and they come in for first shift, I have always gotten their notebooks ready for them in the mornings. However, last week the nicest of the three informed me that they no longer used those notebooks, they used the desktop version so I no longer needed to get their stuff out for them. It seemed logical so I didn’t give it another thought until the other day when I had to return to the ofice to pick up something I had forgotten. They were using their notebooks! I went in to pick up my papers–they were lying under one woman’s notebook (she had stepped out for a moment)–but as I reached to touch the book to move it, one of the other women shot across the room and snatched the notebook away, saying, “I’ll just move this myself.”
The next day when I came in, they had each written “Jesus is Lord” on their notebooks and had placed mine in between theirs! These little exorcism rituals are starting to get old!

Not to mention the fact that now, every morning, they walk into the office singing hymns very loudly. They even go through my personal drawer and write comments on papers of mine. For example, I had printed off a listing of local Samhain parties being held this year and just stuck it in my drawer with other papers one morning. A few days later, I went to get it out to read it and one of the women (I know her handwriting) had written, “We don’t like Devil-Worshipping in our office.” on MY papers. These people are crazy! And these are just a few of the things they do! They are also extremely rascist and frighteningly conservative. But at least I always have something to look forward to–something interesting is always happening at work!

Born O.K. the first time…

If you are born again, do you have two belly buttons?

Um… can’t you talk to your boss or something? Those women are freaks!!!

“Cluemobile? You’ve got a pickup…”
OpalCat’s site:
The Teeming Millions Homepage:

I have. He thinks they are crazy too but they haven’t actually done anything illegal or that he (or I, for that matter) would consider REAL harassment. He wants to be everybody’s buddy rather than their boss. He has this whole “Can’t we all ust get along?” mentality going. I have warned him though. I am tired of being the adult in these situations and I am going to start giving as good as I’m getting. Any ideas?

Born O.K. the first time…

If you are born again, do you have two belly buttons?

Learn how to say the Lord’s prayer backwards, that ought to give them something to think about.

At one office, there were two main departments who worked with customers. One (mine) did engineering, the other basically did paperwork. Both departments were very territorial. We had to hold on to every inch of space and piece of furniture, or the other department would end up using it.

On top of this, the other department head had an employee, Bill, who was some upper-middle management type. His office was directly on the other side of a wall from mine. The last few months were bizarre. There were almost weekly shouting matches between Bill and his boss, which I could hear but not understand through the wall.

My personal psycho experience with him: one of my friends in my department ran out of tasking, so she was assigned to do work for the other department, but still sat at the same desk and used one of my department’s computers. Sadly she reported to psycho-Bill.

Before her transfer, we had 3 PC’s in our department. We needed new mousepads, so I went to the nearby Macsource store and bought 3 new ones, one vivid neon pink and two purple.

Two days after my friend’s transfer, I needed to use the third computer. Oddly, its mousepad was gone. I looked over at my friend’s desk, and she had a purple one, not the pink one she had had. I asked her where the pink one was, and she didn’t know. (She had just borrowed the purple one to get through her work.)

That evening, I happened to walk by psycho-Bill’s office, and lo and behold, there was the pink pad. I quickly took it and put it with my friend’s PC. (I thought about leaving a nasty note, but didn’t.)

The next day, he came huffing and puffing over to my desk. “Did you take a mouse pad off of my desk!?” he almost-screamed.

I calmly reached into my desk and pulled out a copy of the purchase order I had used. Not really answering him, I stated, “The only mousepads we have are the two purple and one pink pads that I purchased for my department using this PO.”

Well, he huffed and puffed some more, glaring at me. I glared back. He stormed off, and I never heard another word about mousepads.

He was fired about a month later. Good riddance.

The two worst co-workers I had were:

  • the guy who threatend to blow up the building when he was let go. We had the SWAT team on site for a week just in case he came back in a Ryder truck full of fertilizer.

  • the other guy who committed suicide by dousing himself with paint thinner and lighting a match, in the middle of downtown Akron.

In my office we have Carol. She acts like a sweet lady when new people first meet her, and if anyone warns them about her, they usually laugh at the notion that this kindly lady is a psycho hose beast, but she is.

Probably the weirdest thing she does these days is spend all night at the local Indian casino, gambling away all her meager income. The psycho part is that God gives her gambling advice. He tells her to gamble in the smoking section, despite her asthma, because the slot machines are looser there. Then she can’t come to work in the morning because she’s too tired and her asthma is bothering her too much. And of course I have yet to hear of her hitting the jackpot, or even coming home with any of the money she started out with, but this is what God tells her to do so she must obey. (She’s a minister’s daughter and an ex-pastor’s ex-wife.)

And she’s a backstabber. I wouldn’t trust her any further than I could throw her. Once, I went to her to complain about another co-worker’s performance. I know, that wasn’t a nice thing to do and I’ve regretted it ever since. Carol proceeded to come to my cubicle every evening for a bitch session about this co-worker. When I finally realized I’d opened Pandora’s box, I told her that if she really had a problem with this co-worker, she should go to the supervisor. We could go together. But Carol blew me off saying this co-worker was Harriet’s (the supervisor) pet, Harriet was incapable of leading or disciplining, she wasn’t smart enough, she didn’t care, and so on. Then her daily visits became bitch sessions about the co-worker and Harriet, and I became increasingly uncomfortable. So I went to Harriet by myself. Harriet told me: a.) if I had a problem with the first co-worker’s performance, I should mention it to her myself, and b.) I should tell Carol that I didn’t want to listen to her anymore, that she should take her complaints to the supervisor, and that I should ignore her. Sigh Easier said than done.

Geez, I’ve just about forgotten where I was going with this. Oh yeah, Carol’s bitch session didn’t stop even though I told her to talk to Harriet, and I even posted a sign outside my cubicle saying basically, “I’m not your sounding-board, talk to Harriet.” Carol thought it was funny and kept bitching to me. I ignored her, but she wouldn’t go away. I went back to Harriet who wanted to know just how this got started in the first place. I confessed that I started it by asking Carol a snarky question about the co-worker, “What does she do all day?” Then Carol picked up the ball and ran with it, and I couldn’t shut her off. When Harriet asked Carol how it got started, Carol portrayed me as a trouble maker who went to her every night to complain. Harriet called me back in to a private meeting to discuss it, and I was shocked and horrified at the way Carol had villified me. Worse, when I got back to my cubicle, I found that Carol had vandalized it, dumped things over, while I was meeting with Harriet. But I think Carol was right about some of the things she said about Harriet, because Harriet never even mentioned the vandalizing incident to Carol, or disciplined her for it, or even did anything about the co-worker I originally started out complaining about. It was around that time I stopped caring about how I did my own job and found the Internet to be a pleasant diversion.

And I haven’t even mentioned yet how she says we have to pray over everything we get from Asian countries because the Asians infuse all of their products with demons so they can corrupt and possess us.

Gah, she’s nuts! I wish she’d get fired, but this is the State and they don’t fire anyone.

“I hope life isn’t a big joke, because I don’t get it,” Jack Handy

Boy, a lot of you people have worked for Physco, and I’ve never even heard of them. Are they a new conglomerate or something? I don’t think I want to work for them, though, they sound really weird.

Oh… Psycho! Now it makes sense!

Modest? You bet I’m modest! I am the queen of modesty!

evilbeth, what your coworkers are doing does constitute harrassment. I’d suggest that you start keeping track of the stuff that’s going on. Get a small pad or notebook solely for this purpose; every time your coworkers comment on your religion or do one of their “mini-exorcisms”, write down the date, a description of the indicent, and the people involved.

At the very least, this will give you some ammunition the next time you talk to your boss about it. And if something illegal does happen-- e.g., if you get fired or demoted because of your religion-- then you’ll have some evidence to take into court.

Random Pagan Programmer

PS: If you do decide to start keeping a log, be aware that it may get lost (or stolen). In case something happens to the notebook at work, it’s a good idea to keep a photocopied duplicate of it at home.

…and draw some pentagrams on it so they’ll never “accidentaly” pick it up and read it :slight_smile:

That’s no good. What if they burn it?

Modest? You bet I’m modest! I am the queen of modesty!

Here’s the worst hiring experience I ever had:

I once hired thid older gentleman into a telecommunications engineer position. He was one of several candidates sent my way by a headhunting firm that we were contracted with. This guy had extensive experience and a good personality.

The first week on the job everything went fine. He was fitting in with his co-workers and we had every expectation for his success.

The next week though he didn’t show up on Monday…no call either…Tuesday came and once again…no show, no call, no answer at his home phone… On Wednesday his girlfriend calls me to tell me that the reason that he has not been at work is that he is in prison!

Seems that he had appeared in court on Monday on charges of conspiracy to commit a kidnapping. She explained that he thought that he’d beat the charges and go free, but he guessed wrong. Seems as though it would be 3 to 15 before he could make it back to the job…

…had to send him a letter via his lawyer to fire him…

Took me a while to live that one down with my management buddies!

Contestant #3

Heh, this is a great place to vent the frustrations of the work place.

At the travel agency I worked at the owners mom had died ( she was 90) and the family was too cheap to cremate her AND buy an urn, much less tupperware to stuff her remains in, so she was in a corregated box IN OUR VAULT for years. This did not bother me the least. I’m pretty morbid.

I would make calls to my bosses answering machine saying, " Johnny, johnny, I’m in a place where there’s no view here…I thought heaven would at least have a view of a parking lot." ( He would howl with laughter.)

The wife of the owner (daugher in law to Grandma, as we called the box) was pretty weirded out by the entire Mother In Law in the the vault for awhile and refused to go in there. I would trot Grandma out and set her on the corner of a desk when we would have potlucks and parties.We’d update her on the events of the world and how fat her son (our boss) John, was getting. He always cracked up. Whenever we hired someone new, I would take them in the vault to meet Grandma, which always illicited wide eyes from the newbie and laughter from the rest of us sick bitches.

The wife of the owner was raised and lived in Germany during the bombings in Bremen (WW2 for those history impaired). They were a very wealthy family but after the war they had nothing (which is really the reason why my boss married her US ARMY husband, I think, to get away from the terrible economy, but I digress.) She was penny wise, pound foolish.

She wouldn’t sue a client who owed us hundreds or thousands of dollars in unpaid bills in FEAR OF LOSING their patronage
( while they racked up more debt with us.) BUT would stop the office and interrogate everyone on who STOLE the pop can returnables in back ( me.) After everyone had been throughly scrunitinized, she would come to me and before she could say anything I would say, “Yes, I took them. There was $30 worth back there along with a colony of ants. It’s disgusting. With the money I bought bagels, cream cheese and raid for the office. Here’s the receipt and the change. It only took you three weeks to notice they were gone.” I cannot tell you how many times that scene was played out.

But my favorite Polly ( The owners wife, Penny wise, pound foolish polly. the one who lived in terrible poverty and conditions after the War) story is: We had a client who would come back from Up North ( Michigan) from a friends potato farm with sacks and sacks of 50# of potatoes and sell the sacks for $5. Everyone, except Me, (the cynical one) would buy one of these sacks. I figured they were the rejects of the harvest and there probably wasn’t $5 worth of decent potatoes in the sack in the 50#. ( I was right.) POLLY, would occasionally take a potato out and cook it in the microwave for lunch. Maybe about once every other month. the rest of the time the sack took up critical floor space in the vault ( by Grandma :)) and after a year or so of this damn sack, I put a sign on the vault stating:
Vault, Mortuary and Potato Farm. It illicited mucho chuckles from everyone, even Polly.

Meanwhile, the eyes on the potatoes were growing taller than my head ( I’m 5’3") and it was starting to smell questionable in there and Grandma was NOT to blame.
Decided to take the bull by the horns, I took the sack of potatoes home and dumped them in my compost pile. Most were rotten. It was really pathetic.

A WEEK LATER Polly ( after interogating everyone again) storms over to me and DEMANDS that I return her potatoes that I STOLE AND that she had found one potato that was good ( ergo, they ALL MUST BE GOOD, in her little mind.) I didn’t bat an eye or miss a beat and having worked and married into the German culture I know that you fight fire with fire. I used logic mixed with lots of anger and you never ever ever show fear. ( Blinking, BTW, I"m pretty sure, is a sign of fear with krauts.)(Yeah, I’m generalizing, but I have a permission slip to do so, it’s called a marriage liscense. :slight_smile: )

" Polly that bag was rotten the eyes were taller than me and the bottom was nearly rotted out of it."

“I want it back it’s mine.”

“It’s buried in my compost bin covered in dirt.”

She retorts.“I could have you fired.”

“I couldn’t be so lucky.”

“Goddammit, that bag is mine.”


She stormed off and her husband applauded me for standing up to her.

Good God, I’m gonna have to go out there with these people?! Maybe I should just keep living at home.
Shirley, you’re my new favorite poster.
“She had the IQ of a dead gerbil and the personality of wet bread.” God, that’s good!

JMcC, San Francisco
“Hear the voices in my head, I swear to God it sounds like they’re snoring”

My boss is phsyco!

I work as an Assistant English Teacher (AET) in Japan. Most of the people I’ve met in this rich cultural experience are really nice. There is one notable exception.

In one of the many schools I go to teach, the head teacher of this JHS is a member of some weird religious sect. He’s also an English teacher, so we team-teach together a couple of times per week. Everyone in the school seem to like him, and I too was very impressed by him when I met him because his English was so good. It turns out the guy is a complete jerk when it comes to dealing with me. We hate each others guts, but that’s beside the point and a whole other story, kind of.

I started realizing that he was ‘unusual’ when he started ranting to his students, in the classroom, mind you, about the ‘magical’ aura that objects and people have around them.

Disclaimer: I have no problem with people believing in ‘magical’ aurae even if I do not hold that belief. However, I thought it was very inappropriate of him to teach his belief system to his impressionable students in this context. There is a very strong division of church (well, religion) and state in Japan dating from WWII and religion is not to be taught in school.

Later the same day he began lecturing a couple of students about the care they should use with their aurae during class. I was so disbelieving of the ludicrousness of what I was witnessing that I snickered. BIG MISTAKE. He heard me loud and clear and I think our relationship went downhill from there.

Every year in Kyoto (Japan) at the time of the O-bon festival they light half a dozen mountain fires. (Bear with me.) On mountains surrounding the city there are a few mountains with good flat surfaces facing the city. They make giant Chinese characters of wood and at night burn them up. It’s quite a sight. Now everyone was telling me I should go and see them, even my head teacher. I go and have a great time. Back at school I tell my tale to the teachers and they all think it’s great. Now, my head teacher takes me aside to have one of those rare (and weird) conversations we have from time to time.

-Momo (not my real name), you know those people in Kyoto, they have these old powers.


-Yes, they are, what’s the word…you know, those people with naked women on tables and big knives in ceremonies…

-Satanists! (I blurt out.)

-Yes, that’s the word. Oh, time for our class.

So I dismiss the whole conversation as a fluke. I can’t believe what I’ve just heard, I think he was having an attempt at some weird humour. During the class he makes me relate my tale to the students. Doing so, I also make a little drawing of the city with the surrounding mountains and the emplacements of the giant fires. Once I’m done he proceeds to complete my story. He draws a big pentagramme(sp?) connecting most of the fires and concludes: “So you can all see that they are Satanists.” The class ends, I walk out in disguss.

I’m not even going to relate all his rant against the U.S.A as the ‘most evil country in the world.’ You get the idea. I’m Canadian and I find it offensive.

Oh, and the world is going to end in 2013 or something, and all people who don’t have a pure soul are going to die, or disappear, or whatever. I guess that doesn’t include me!
Cheez, and I have to see this guy almost everyday at work. :frowning:
, which I do, and then gasp proceeds to tell them the same stoty he told me. He completes the dr so I simply dismiss ti.

Only humans commit inhuman acts.

Ignore my last sentence. It’s a side effect of my loosy editing.