TATTOPITW
there are two types of people in the world – sometimes updated weekdaily

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Established 1776

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Causing a stink

People who use the restroom on the same floor they work on

People who go to a different floor to do their business

Since yesterday was the most poorly viewed post since the first day of TATTOPITW, I clearly have to raise the bar today.

Do you go to a different floor in your office to take a crap?

People in America (and I’m sure some other places) like to pretend that they don’t poop. Especially women. Now, personally, I know that some women don’t deuce, particularly exceptionally good looking women: it just doesn’t add up and really tarnishes the whole image. But dudes? Come on.

I’m not really going to be able to take a side here because I can see both sides of the issue. There are some people that I work with who I really wish would go to a different building. And then there are other people who hit the stairs, carrying a newspaper, returning a few minutes later. Why you would be so obvious as to bring a newspaper, I can’t understand, especially given that you might only get to read one or two columns – is Dear Abby or yesterday’s sports really worth the embarrassment? Are you really that afraid of being bored in the stall?

Maybe the happy medium here would be a situational awareness about floor selection for when you know something’s cookin’. Don’t lie: you know when it’s going to be a particularly hazardous situation. On these days, maybe that’s the time to take it upstairs, choosing a floor that both spares your beloved co-workers and perhaps brings the pain to a floor of the building you’re not so fond of. On your less Mexican or whisky-fueled days, you can keep it on the same floor and be efficient about it. I can live with that.

Democrats + Revolving Doors = Doormocrats

People who contribute to the revolving door

Revolving door moochers

I want to start out by saying this was a reader-suggested idea. Score one for the community! Naturally, I will go from this point forward pretending it was my idea…

So I’m not sure if you readers out there are aware of this problem, but when it was brought to my attention, I immediately upped my awareness and it’s absolutely incredible how serious of an issue this is.

Where it all goes down…around…

Let’s put the economy, healthcare, and China’s human rights violations on hold for a minute and talk about a real problem: people who mooch the energy others are putting into the revolving door.

Right now, we are in the middle of trying to figure out if the future of this country involves the increased taxation of the wealthiest 5% to support tax breaks for the middle class. As Americans, we live the ironic dream of a government set up to give anyone the opportunity to become rich, and then have half of it taken away from them. It is obviously debatable whether we like this idea. Well, certainly we love the idea if we’re not rich.

I think that people are taking this idea and testing it by extending it to other parts of their lives: exercising their right to burden the strongest 5% of revolving door users with carrying the weight of the middle-strength. When did the Doormocrats get elected? Where was the vote? I feel, as an energy-wealthy person, that this is an unfair coup on my rights to share the burden.

I can’t say for sure when the revolution began because I haven’t been paying attention long enough to conduct a self-poll. But I do know that where there are opportunities to live off of someone else’s efforts, people take advantage, and it is obvious to me now that the revolving door is no exception. God save us all if Obama becomes president. Not only will we have more door freeloading, but people might decide to carpool with me against my will. The horror.

Sick People Make Me Sick

People who come to work when they’re sick

People who stay at home when they’re sick

Ok, yes, I missed yesterday. Why? Because I am sick. And why am I sick? Because someone else who was sick came to work and rubbed their sickness all over our workplace like a cat in heat.

I know, I know; this is a very complicated idea that is incredibly difficult to understand: people get sick from other sick people. If you are a sick person, you can get other people sick. Let that sink in for a while. Actually, why don’t you let that sink in for a few days at home.

I think one of the big reasons that people come into work sick these days is because they are trying to be career-oriented. Once, a few years ago, I called in sick and said that I could still be on a conference call later in the day, but I wasn’t coming in. The hell-bitch on the other end of the phone responded, “If you’re sick enough to not come into work, you shouldn’t be on a conference call.” Damn, lady: I have a cold, not Parkinson’s.

People in the workplace have a distrust when it comes to sick days, thus people act like combat marines: “NO, I CAN PUSH FORWARD, I CAN GET THAT TPS REPORT OUT TODAY.” This misplaced toughness is just stupid and ridiculous. Yes, I think if you can still move your arms and fingers, you should aim to get some work done while you’re sick, but you don’t need to go to the office and contaminate everyone else, their families, their families’ workplaces, and on.

Well, I have to go. I have a tee time….doctor’s appointment. Yeah, Dr. Tee. He’s asian.

Free lunch people

People who love free lunch at the office (or anywhere)

People who are not strangely obsessed with saving $6

So this one is a real wonder of mine. What in the hell is so great about free lunch? Why, when the foil feeding trays of man slop roll in, does the office go abuzz?

Hello, Darling. I know you are condiment-less, but I want you and know you come with a dried-out oatmeal cookie.

I might not know much in this world, but I do know that I have never had a free lunch that didn’t taste like my desk:

• Pizza: it is impossible to bake 30 pizzas and then deliver them without them looking like a Salvador Dali painting. I do not like my pizza rare. I do not like “crust” that takes the shape of my fingers as I hold a slice. I do not like digging the cheese off of the box top and re-adhering it to the semi-cooked dough. FAIL
• Sandwiches: I subscribe to the idea that I would never eat at a restaurant that makes the same things I make at home. Sandwiches, by and large fall into this category. Sub sandwiches, rubens, melts, etc. are things I probably don’t make at home, so I’m fine with that, but if you slap sliced meats on a bagel or white bread, you deserve to go out of business. If you serve said sandwich without condiments, you deserve to also be slapped. And if you put one of those tomato slices that has the green, hard center that is going to make one of my teeth come out when I eat it, you deserve to be jailed.
• Tacos / BBQ: You might as well put a stick of food dynamite on our computers and notepads. There is no situation where BBQ or tacos make any sense inside of a work environment. I don’t enjoy eating cold dog ribs dipped in KC Masterpiece. And I especially don’t enjoy trying to write on a taco-meat soaked legal pad or type with my grease fingers.

So the food is bad, the experience is bad, the savings are minimal, and you don’t get out of the office for a midday break. I really cannot see a positive.

Let me know what you think on this one. Are you a free lunch lover? What are you going to do with your $36 you saved this year?

"I Just Cured Cancer", "I Love Cured Ham!"

People who hear what you say

People who hear what the voices say

I have had at least 4 conversations in the last week that went something like this:

“I think that we should do X, but we should do Y first”

“Why do you not like X?”

“I do like X, but I think Y makes more sense right now”

“I just can’t talk to you if you don’t like X”

“I do like X!!!”

“Well that is the first time that you said you thought X was a good idea. Thank you!”

This is the work equivalent of the game “telephone” that kids play on the playground about 2 years before they start doing hard drugs (I heard a 12 year old in the mall talking about getting high). You know, the game where one kid says, “Mrs. Johnson has a fanny head”, the message is passed around a circle of people whispering into each others’ ears, and ends up being something like “Principal Swanson saw me naked”.

Anyhow, if you watch people who are non-listeners or otherwise possessed by words from the other side, you can actually see it happen:

The person you’re talking to goes through three stages, which I would liken to a blindfolded track & field event.

Ready: The person you’re talking to is listening. They look relaxed and attentive. You are communicating.

Set: The person has heard all that they’re going to hear, which is usually about the first 8 words of what you said, even though you talked for 40 seconds. This stage is commonly signaled by an open mouth (they are on the blocks), a lot of head movement, and a lot of single-syllable sounds coming out of the listener: “But…”, “Well…”, “Uh….”, “Yes…” – the equivalent of false starts on the track.

Go: You have wrapped up your point, knowing pretty well that what you’re about to hear relates only to the first 8 words of your points and a refrigerator-poetry rearrangement of your following words. The listener explodes into the rebuttal of a point someone in some other room speaking some other language made 4 countries away in 1967. The blindfolded race equivalent of the sprinter on the inside lane running into the infield and catching a javelin in the shoulder.

Even if you leave the office, it’s no different. My family has the collective attention span of a goldfish on meth and Thanksgiving looks like band practice at the school for the deaf & blind. My friends are better, but those conversations are more like “Yeah, I think Obama’s economic policy leaves me wonderi– hey did you see that ass?”, so there’s really not that much to get out of those in the first place.

I’m going to do my best today to listen to what people are saying. I’m not sure what the hell they’re talking about or how it applies to me, and I know that everything will be fine once they hear what I have to say, but I’ll let their noiseboxes run out of air before I bring the gospel to them. You have to kick one back to the little guy every now and then.

Overzealous Elevator Embarkers

Shampoo: People who wait for elevator disembarkers

Conditioner: People who regularly experience human on human collisions

So the elevator dance happened to me just this morning. Doors open, I’m ready to hop off and start my day, and wham, there’s some dude who has apparently never used an elevator, as ready to get on as I am to get off. The clear rules of elevator etiquette outline that people coming off of the elevator have the right-of-way, and the fact that I see an almost daily example of this simple rule being broken disturbs me.

Thankfully, I avoided a man collision this morning, but it was a near miss. The guy realized his error and turned his body just in time for the exitees to pass by without incident, but I sit here wondering now, did he learn anything from this, or will I always have to be suspicious of him in the future? Should it ever happen that I ride on the elevator with him and we mutually witness this act of social stupidity, will I have the strength to turn to this man and say “SEE?” Worse yet, will I profile this guy and people like him in the future? I hope I am not an elevator bigot, but trauma begets judgement: I do know that I am particularly ready for this to happen when I’m in a heavily IT-populated building, as these people are mentally sidetracked with trying to figure out what the best mixture of magic potions will power up their knight in World of Warcraft, and not on the real world that surrounds them.

The worst offenders are the ones who have confidence in their decision to be idiots and continue plowing through the crowd like it’s the last train home and the doors are closing. I get a mental picture of a Tokyo subway car where hundreds of men in their suits, carrying their semi-pornographic comic books, are slapping up against each other like fish in a bucket, trying to get on and off of the train at the same time. It’s really a disgusting human behavior, actually, and I really hope it stops. The thought of it alone kept me from going to the Olympics this year.

This is America, people. The land of the free. Wide open spaces. It’s awkward enough being stuck in a box with 6 other people where talking is off-limits. Let me get out of the social avoidance chamber as quickly as I can, and then you can have your ride. It’s simple.

Can you hear me now?

I: People who say they’re underpaid

II: People who choose to not spend their money on bluetooth headsets, shoes, purses, and ties they can’t afford.

Too soon?

I guess it’s just struck me as funny that I’m listening to someone with $1,000 of blinking and blinging accessories complain about how their boss doesn’t know what they “got”. I can work anywhere. I’m damn good at my job. That stupid mother-…

I have a lot of these priceless moments on elevators where taking a picture – or better yet a video – of what I’m seeing just might get me killed. Gas stations and fast food restaurants (where I’ve been spending way too much time lately) come in a close second and third for “what the hell did I just see?”, and are equally as difficult to document, so I guess you’re just going to have to trust me.

A few weeks ago, I was eating at Houston’s and I saw a gentleman walk in with no less than 5 cell phones / blackberries strapped to his belt “holster style”. Both ears were filled with bluetooth headsets (different brands – you’d think you want symmetry in this case) and he had some big ass headphones around his neck with the cord running down to one of the many boxes in his waist-mounted Best Buy kiosk. Truthfully, this was a small miracle I was witnessing: the belt itself ran just under the last shred of ass-curvature that might keep his jean shorts (yeah, keeping you guessing here) up on his body, yet in full stride and with no assistance, those pants stayed put. Rubber waistband? Suspenders? Shear will? A small zone of zero gravity? I may never know.

It’s just nice to know that the American way of spending what you don’t have is still rolling right along. Oh, hang on, my rear-right celly is blowin’ up. Must be Europe…

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