I ordered something Etsy.com (my favorite web site) last week. It’s an 8×10 inch print of a drawing of a naked woman, stretching her arms as she sits on the floor. It’s not a nasty picture; it’s very pretty and abstract. If there weren’t boobs involved, I would totally paste the picture in this posting.
At any rate, I ordered the print to hang in my bathroom in our new apartment. I had been waiting anxiously for it to arrive, but it took a few days, as the artist had to send it from Finland.
So, I was at work today, when one of the most annoying men I have ever met in my entire life came into the office. He is a resident at my apartment community and is completely selfish and terrible and oblivious to everything.
For example, he has stopped me numerous times around the community, when I am clearly not at work, asking me to have maintenance come over to fix something that’s broken, or asking me to go to the office and get a package for him after the office has closed and I’m walking home, or trying to have a conversation with me at the pool while I’m wearing a bikini (for Goodness’ sake!) and obviously trying to listen to my iPod and read peacefully in the sun.
Ugh, there are so many things that annoy me about this man, I cannot even tell you.
“Jillian, I need you to fax this for me.”
“Frank, the office closed 5 minutes ago. I’m going home.”
“Just really quick, Jillian. Come on. It doesn’t take that long to fax it.”
“Jillian, you’re out of coffee. Can you make some more?”
“Frank, your apartment is literally connected to the office. Why don’t you just go home and get your own coffee?”
“Because this coffee is free! You’re not doing anything. You have time to make me coffee. By the way, you’re out of creamer.”
At any rate, so ol’ Frank comes into the office today and sits at my desk for like 20 minutes and is complaining about all of this stuff and asking me for all of these favors and being downright annoying, all the while my manager is walking behind him and making funny faces at me because she knows how annoyed he is making me.
As I’m writing down the list of things that Frank “needs” me to “check on”, Jim, the friendly neighborhood mail carrier, comes into the office and puts the long-awaited package from Finland on my desk.
“Your picture!” the coworker sitting at the desk next to me exclaims. “It’s finally here! You’ve been waiting all week for that, right?”
“Yeah!” I said, excitedly, trying to put the box under my desk as quickly as I can so Frank can’t see my apartment number.
“What is that?” Frank asks.
“Something I ordered,” I answered shortly.
“Well, what is it?” he persisted.
“A picture,” I said.
“What kind of picture?”
“Something I bought online. Anyway, what else were you saying, Frank?”
“What kind of drawing?”
“A print of a drawing I found online to hang in my house.”
“Oh. Can I see it?”
“Umm… Well, it’s not open, Frank. It’s still in the box. I just got it.”
“That’s ok, let me open it!” he says, starting to walk around my desk toward the box.
“No!” I say, swiping the box away from him.
“Well, may I see it?” he asks, returning to his seat.
“Umm… I’m sorry. No,” I answered.
“Well, why not?”
“It’s inappropriate for work,” I snap, unable to make eye contact. My coworker giggles.
“Ohhhhhhh!” Frank teases. “What do you mean by that?”
“It’s just a picture,” I reply quickly, hoping we can change the subject.
“An inappropriate picture at work?” he says.
“It’s for home. And it’s not bad. I just don’t want to show you,” I said.
“Why?” he asks. What is he, like two years old?
“Because it’s none of your business,” I answer pointedly.
“Oh,” he says. “Well fine.”
After a minute, he collects the mail and keys and checks and coffee and God knows what else he has spread all over my desk and slides toward the door, leaving a greasy sweaty arm streak across my desk’s glass top.
“Have a good day, Jillian!” he cheers, walking out the door.
I don’t reply at all as I walk to the supply room to grab some Windex and paper towel for my desk. I wish I could grab a crow bar and run out the door after Frank.
“By the way, you’re out of coffee.”