Two days with the new lady co-worker and I've come to realize one thing: She is NO ELSIE.
Ladies and gents: Introducing Noelle C.
I wasn't going to give her a name. I was really, really hoping that a normal, not weirdly disturbing person would fill the position left by Elsie's dramatic departure.
Well hope springs eternal. Maybe at my next job I'll get to work with someone normal.
Before you judge me...and believe me, hubby already has, let me relay to you just a smidgen of what my new office mate revealed to me.
But first let me say this: She might be the death of me at Dunder Mifflin. Everyone...and I mean everyone...LOVES HER. She used to work here, and left because the other office women were mean to her, but apparently NBM ADORED HER. (I know this because yesterday she brought in several e-mails, cards, and sticky notes he'd written to her. None crossed a line, none were creepy...until you read them all together and realized that 1) she'd saved them for over a year while she was not working at Dunder Mifflin and 2) she was showing them to everyone, proving just how much NBM likes her.
We're getting into a weird area here.
But that's not what prompted me to blog this morning. No, Noelle C is lovely, and she's good at her job. I don't have to train her. In fact, I don't have to do anything touching on her job now...and that's awesome. Gives my brain time to focus on my job. I haven't been able to to that for about six months. And she's unfailingly cheerful.
I'm sort of hoping that wears off.
Basically, she's making me look like the office hag now, and yes, I'm a tiny bit jealous. She's now started the last two days by HUGGING EVERYONE and cheering and...oh yes...informing anyone in the office that she's done something right because she's good at her job. Oh, and she's a complete neat freak who not only cleaned her office (seriously, we should have called a hazmat team) but decided to clean my desk...around me...after I told I didnt' need cleaning AND she observed my desk and said, "Wow, it's clean." Didn't stop her from wiping everything down with a wet rag....and lifting my elbows up to do it.
But that's not the reason I'm prompted to blog.
Those are just the previews of coming crazy. Nope, I'm blogging today because I always thought that in an office setting...underwear should be kept covered and not shown off to random people to prove the end of a story.
Apparently...in Noelle C's case, I was wrong.
See, while she wasn't working for Dunder Mifflin (she calls it "home" as in "NBM , can I come HOME NOW?") she'd discovered a new health show run by a guy named Doctor Oz. (Have you heard of him?) And Dr. Oz was taking about this revolutionary weight loss program...Weight Watchers...and how they used POINTS to guide you through portion control.
She was so earnest in all this, I had to be polite and nod and not inform her that pretty much the entire planet knows about Dr. Oz and two thirds of everyone I know has been on and off WW points for years.
"So," she says, "I started at a size 20."
Now, for visual help here, she's writing this on a napkin while we're sitting entirely too close to each other at my desk.
"And then I went down to an 18. and then a 16, and now...what does the tag in my pants say?"
Here's where most people would just spew out the number. Nope, not Noelle C. She stood up, stuck her rear in my face, rolled down the waistband of her pants revealing her underwear, and made me read the tag. It says 14, by the way.
She sat back down, as if she hadn't just done a weird peep show four inches from my face, and said, "My final weigh in is Saturday. I might win a million dollars."
So now I'm torn. I'm not sure if I want her to win the money so that she can live a life of leisure and we can try taking a stab at hiring someone not completely devoid of personal awareness, OR if I want her to stick around for the next ten years while I reap yet another worthy harvest of book material.
It's only day two.
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