Problem at work -- 'Time Vampires.'

Fucking Time Vampires.

“Time Vampires” are those people who’s apparent, sole purpose on this planet is to sustain the Rain Forest through converting oxygen into CO2. They don’t do a damn thing, are irresponsible, cannot take a social cue, and seem to wander hallways and office spaces solely to target the unsuspecting with their blathering.

The following is based on an actual occurrence this week. Names changed to protect the [del]innocent[/del] moron.

::cue scene::

[Tripler, dutifully typing away, hears a knock at his door, and looks up. “Bill,” a just-past middle aged, paunchy, balding Engineer has cornered Tripler in his office.]

Tripler: “Oh, hi Bill! Do you know if Joe signed that TPS memo yet?”

Bill "Oh hey Tripler! I’m glad I stopped by too! I was just thinking of stopping by. I thought to myself, “Man, I need to stop by Tripler’s office and see if he’s still into hockey. I hear there’s a new minor league team in Albuquerque and see if he’s been there yet. So I said to myself, “Self, let me make my way down here to see if you’d heard about the new minor league hockey team yet!” I figured you were into hockey, because of all that time you spent up in Wisconsin (1). There’s a lot of hockey up in Wisconsin, if you didn’t know. My cousin Mike played some hockey as a kid, but he got hurt with the asthma (2). He always wanted to join the Army, but couldn’t because of the asthma. Hey, YOU were in the Army (1), right? My Uncle Phil was in the Army. He was in Vietnam, too! Maybe you know each other! I’m sure you guys bumped into each other, but just didn’t know each other at the time. He was a bit of an odd duck I remember. He was up in Wisconsin too, and ran a dairy farm just before he wento into the Army. I don’t remember what he did in the Army though, but that dairy farm was a big place. He had 10 of 15 people working for him milking the cows and delivering the hay. That was up in. . . Lake Waubashaw, I think. No . . Lake Waubashaw is in Pennsylvania somewhere. Isn’t that where you’re from (1)? I always knew you were from Pennsylvania. I had a trip to Philadelphia when I was a kid to the science museum there, and that’s what got me into Engineering. I remember the museum like it was yesterday. . . I think it was the ‘Franklin Institute.’ They had a huge pendulum on a line from the ceiling, that would swing and rotate with the Earth’s rotation. It was cool. We tried to go to a Philadelphia Eagles game too, and got tickets, but they got beat by the Chicago Bears. I’m really into (3) football, don’t you know! Hey, how about them Eagles? You’re from Philadelphia aren’t you (1)? My cousin always liked Philadelphia. He had a little dairy farm down there, in Harrisburg (1). It was a nice little place, and I remember spending time there as a kid–got my first summer job there working in a barber shop! I didn’t cut hair, ya know, 'cause I was only fifteen, but I swept the floors to keep the place clean and rang up people on the register. It was a good job, and it kept me out of trouble. We always had our regulars, especially the guys from the Insurance office across the street. They were two middle aged insurance agents that would always come over for their “Friday trim” like clockwork. They knew I was only fifteen but they taught me the value of a good insurance policy. . . no mater how much insurance you have, you can always use a little more, am-I-right or am-I-right? Am I right?? You have good insurance, don’t you Trip? Who’s you’re insurance company? I can line you up with a good insurance agent. . . who’s your company? Who is it?”

Tripler: “Bill, I’m working on something, did Joe sign. . .”

Bill: “Well anyway these two guys would come in and teach me on insurance. All about it too. . . they said ‘Even if all you have is a coin collection, you need to have insurance on it in case it gets lost, or stolen. You never know when something like a house fire can take it all away. . .’. I wasn’t a coin collector, but more of a stamp collector as a kid. Ever collect stamps? It was pretty fun. I got my hands on a rare 1979 postage stamp from the Soviet Union (3). It had Sputnik or something on it. I can’t remember, but it makes me think about house fires. But what about them wildfires down in Africa (1), am-I-right? All them koala bears and kangaroos must be hopping mad down there. I hear the Beezos (2) was going to donate some money and “the Testla” (2) was going to send some drones down to help with the fires. Man them drones are something else! Remember when “the Testla” sent that underwater submarine to save those teenage fishermen (1) stuck in a cave down in Vietnam? That was pretty cool. I heard they had some Navy Seals go down to get those guys out. My second cousin, Phillip, was in the Navy. Maybe you know him! (1) He was in the Navy as a supply clerk, I think. Somewhere in California. But anyway, those fires are something else. Remember those fires in California, I think they were 10 years ago or something? I heard they caused about a million dollars in damage, and burned down a hundred houses! Man, if they can get those fires put out, they’ll save a lot of koalas, am-I-right? But anyway, those ranch houses in California got burnt up pretty good. Hey, don’t you have a cabin in Wisconsin? I hope you’ve got some good insurance on it. If you need a good insurance company, I can line you up with my agent. Who’s your’ company? Who is it?”

Tripler: “Bill, I need that TPS memo, did Joe sign. . .”

Bill: "Well you should have good insurance. I remember that summer, after the insurance agents, I got back to school and a kid in my Drama Club broke his leg–get that! You know how they say “break a leg” for actors? Well, this kid did it! He was supposed to be performing in our Annual Fall Shakespeare performance, and was supposed to be doing a whole monologue in Latin. He couldn’t do it, on account of his broken leg, so I had to step in and in single week, memorize his lines. I remember it like it was yesterday, it was:

'Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit." [sub](He now starts over-theatricising his gesticulations)[/sub] “Nullam neque leo, scelerisque sagittis pulvinar a, accumsan ac sem. Phasellus iaculis sagittis risus vel imperdiet. Suspendisse nec tincidunt odio. Morbi aliquam et quam sit amet aliquam. Phasellus et lectus commodo, tempor magna ut, efficitur velit. Nam in semper felis. Proin vehicula tortor sed tempus cursus. Donec ut massa diam. Mauris elementum ultrices pulvinar!

Wasn’t that great? (3). Man, I can’t believe I still have that memorized. I want my daughter to get into drama. She’s an artistic type, not an Engineer like her Old Man. She’d doing pretty good in school though, thanks for asking! (3). She’s gonna do better than me, I think. I think she takes after her mother, my wife. But my wife is a twin, and I hope my Sister-in-Law’s genes don’t spread to my daughter. My Sister-in-Law’s got a really bad case of the gout; flares up like a sonofabitch, too! I remember this one time, she couldn’t walk around at our campsite, so we had to change her socks out after a 3 mile hike. Man alive, the smell of those sweaty socks after our mile hike was something. . . I couldn’t take it, but I was the only one that was willing to do the job. So I rolled up my sleeves, and pulled those socks off to let her feet air out. My wife was so mad! She started hollerin’ at me because I never do that for her, but I said to her, “Marcie, you don’t have the gout, and you aren’t complaining like Sue-Ellen is!” She got even madder and didn’t talk to me for a week. You know what I did? Do you know what I did?"

Tripler: “Bill, it doesn’t matter, I just need that TPS report. . .”

Bill: “I bought her flowers for a whole week! That’s what you gotta do for a good marriage, is communicate even if it’s through flowers. That’s the way to a successful marriage, my man. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about (3). The first three didn’t work out so well, but I learned this time!! But I hope my daughter marries a nice guy. She’s gonna be going to college soon. Do you know of any good single guys? I know you Marines are always a good bunch (1). I hope she marries someone good. I tried to get her into a church group, and introduced myself to a few of the other parents there, but the group just kind of dissolved after a few weeks, which is pretty strange because they’d been going strong for a few years. They met at the local Starbucks on Tuesday nights. Man that Starbucks though, there’s like one on every corner now! They’ve even got them in the department store down at the mall in Albuquerque! I was there last weekend, and that mall was packed. I saw some kid wearing some sort of hockey jersey, too. Didja ever see hockey in Albuquerque? Sheesh, what a tough market . . . That will never take off in Albuquerque. Those kids nowadays, with all of their music and The YouToobs and Twitter Faces (2), I just don’t get them anymore. There’s no good music either, it’s all just noise. Marcie and I like to relax at night to the Lawrence Welk show. You ever watch Lawrence Welk? Do ya? WHOA! Oh hey, look at the time. Well, I gotta run. You’ve kinda tied me up for 25 minutes and made me late for a meeting! I gotta run and get a TPS memo to Joe to sign; apparently Phyllis is waiting on it. I’ll talk to you later!”

[Bill abruptly turns and leaves, but not before leaving a sweaty palmprint on the door. Tripler dumbfounded that he just lost 40 minutes of his life span (that he’ll never get back), stands up, and pushes closed the office door with a rolled up piece of paper.]

::end scene::
[sub]
(1) Note: Time vampires often conflate places/times/things to ramble a train-wreck of a monologue onward. This is their tactic of baiting you to correct them, so they can continue with a “dialogue” with your “participation,” thus evacuating more hot, useless air from their diaphragm.
**(2) Note:**This particular time vampires is not that bright, and gets carried away with himself and his idioms. One does not “get hurt” with "the asthma.
**(3) Note:**There are periodic re-directs back to the self-speaker, either as a form of self-flattery, or to keep their buccal cavity’s wind tunnel at 100% throttle.[/sub]

I’ve learned in the meantime, to keep my door closed, turn off the overhead lights (I use desk lamps), and put some random fuze nomenclature on my out-of-office sign. Random acronyms confuse people, and make them think I’m out of the office.

For the record: I have never been to Wisconsin, nor did I ever get that TPS memo.

Tripler
Misspellings in the above narrative are not mistakes; the Vampire actually speaks misspellings.

You are not alone.

It’s even more fun when they want to come into your actual work place and keep you from working.

Closing the door does no good, nor does turning off the light unless it is too dark to work.
My solution, obnoxious as it, was to turn to my computer and keep working, making random grunts at the time vampire.
That is unless Bill is the only person who can tell you if the TPS memo got signed. If so, you can start to interrupt Bill.
Enough of the cold shoulder and Bill will learn to bug someone else.
Helps to be a misanthrope to do this well.

TL;DR

If only that worked in real life…

Before installing the trap door find out who (if anyone) is in the office space right below yours.

I had trouble getting past the first sentence. I was like: “You have a door?”

I’ve literally never worked in an office where I had a door. You should try dealing with the TVs in an open office* environment.

As to your problem, I just retired after 45 years in the workplace. There is no solution to those people that I’m aware of. Just keep working until the creature finds another host and moves away to infect them.

*The only office configuration that makes cubicles seem like a luxury.

No shit, man. The worst thing about it is that other people in the area get drawn in by the vampire and next thing you know, you’re hunched down over your keyboard while three oblivious idiots blather over your head. I’ve often wished I could get a transcript…no need now that **Tripler’**s taken the bullet. I do believe he captured the experience perfectly.

I had an actual office as an intern. Much better than the cubes I’ve had since. But in that office, there was no possibility of closing the door. If anyone had closed their door, the boss would have been there in an instant to find out what they were up to that needed a closed door.

I was separated by a flimsy cubical partition from a guy who spent the better part of the morning detailing his and his wife’s attempts to spawn an offspring… in minute detail. It wasn’t a nudge-nudg-wink-wink oration - rather, very clinical, as they were apparently working with a fertility specialist.

OMG - talk about TMI! :eek:

Lucky for me, the boss was my spousal unit, and he spoke to the over-sharer about appropriate office small talk. It takes a lot to squick me out, and that monologue definitely crossed the line.

OK, not exactly the same case as the OP, but, well, coworkers, amIright???

This is why I don’t talk to anyone at work. I mean, I get along with everyone, but I carefully keep everyone at arm’s length.

My work doesn’t really require I communicate with anyone, at least not face-to-face, 99% of my interactions are via email, so I sit at my desk, stare at my computer and wear headphones. Most of the time, I’m not even listening to anything, their primary function is just to discourage people from coming over and talking to me.

Seriously? It’s got to be me who clues you that you are dealing with an energy vampire?

What I came in to point out. My next door neighbor is an energy vampire; endless rambling stories with no seeming point to them, until everyone in the room is a helpless empty sack of skin lying on the floor.

Get up and go to the toilet. If they try to follow you into the toilet, go into a cubicle and close the door - if they still try to talk to you, answer through straining noises

You make the balding thing sound bad.

I have started doing this with my Brother-in-Law. While I don’t see him often enough that he’s sucking the life out of me at work, he does pull the “blah-blah-yak-yak” with me, and as soon as he gets on a roll, I counter blah-blah-yak-yak on my own rambling story–it’s good practice?

The difference between my BIL and Bill?–I don’t care what BIL thinks of me, and Bill is supposed to be coordinating deliverables I need for the Group. I kinda-have-to play nice with Bill.

Do you know of those exploding ink charges banks put into the sacks of money they give to bank robbers? I was considering hanging one of those in the drop ceiling above, and running it to a loop switch below a ‘WELCOME’ mat at my office door.

Yes, I do. And we have “snow days” and “delayed openings” too! (We’re having a 2-hour delay this AM, hence my post!). Most of us have doors–some folks have to ‘double-bunk’ in a larger office (managers don’t), but there are enough smaller offices that Engineers like me can close the door for quiet conversations.

::sigh:: But at least I know I’m not alone in my observations, or desire to strangle some of these Vampires.

I have just started watching that show! I can’t recall that character’s name, but add 40 lbs, and 20 years, and that’s Bill!

“Bald” is just a natural characteristic. “Bald, overweight, smelly, sweaty and over-talky” is bad.

Tripler
Bill infected others: now there’s “Michael,” and “Bruce.” They’re spreading to the gym, too. :mad:

Oh, yes. I work with one. If she sees me come into the store, she will start talking to me before I’ve punched in. I always respond “Hey! If you’re not paying me, don’t talk to me.” She also is always asking “WHY” you did something.

It’s like working with a two year old, which I think is her mental age.

You should have that Queens of the Stone Age song “The Vampyre of Time and Memory” cued up in a browser tab and crank it every time he drops by. It’s also actually a great tune and an amazing video as well.

I worked with a guy who was a time vampire but only had one subject. At some point, we had had a conversation and had talked about some Russian philosopher. He apparently got the idea that this subject was one I was totally interested in. So every few weeks, he would stop by my desk and start a lengthy monologue about the history of Russian philosophy, each and every individual Russian philosopher and their philosophy, the fights between the philosophers, the papers they wrote sniping at each other, all the personal drama between them. It was insane. I would just nod and say “uh huh” and try to look busy. Eventually, I started sending emails to co-workers to call me so I could answer the phone and he would go away. It took several months before he finally got the message that I didn’t care about this and he quit stopping by.

I wrote poetry readable only by computers (aka “software”) at a major systems shop (aka “tiny cubicle office building”) with zero acoustic isolation or dress codes. The smarmy guy opposite my cubicle was an ex-felon in on a redemption program who spent his days on the phone loudly organizing golf tourneys. This bugger vampired-up all local soundspace and yet wasn’t fired before I was. I claim discrimination against the tall and handsome.

I get callers like that. No, I do not have time to be your new BFF, nor do I WANT to hear about your hysterectomy/mastectomy/surgical complications/domestic issues/drug rehabs/DUIs, etc.

Yes, I have had callers blather on about all of the above with me (thank God this wasn’t all the same person!). I just want to find out what piece of business you called about (need new card, card declined, transaction you don’t think was yours, website issue, etc.) so I can get you taken care of and move on to the next person in queue before my sup is down my throat about how long my calls are taking. Bonus points for the ramblers who start off bitching about how long they had to wait on hold. I swear, if someone pulls that on me on my last day at Hades Annex (and I know it’s my last day), the filters come off and I’ll tell them “Fascinating story. My last five callers all felt a need to tell me all sorts of personal stuff I don’t need or want to know, too. That’s WHY you were on hold so long”.