As usual, my story involves an interesting co-worker. I was reminded of him the other day when I came across his picture in my local paper. He had just gotten married and had some big Civil-War themed wedding because he lives in a historical house. There was a picture of him duded up in this cheesy Civil War reenactment get-up, slicing his wedding cake with this huge sword. Sadly, I wouldn't expect anything different from him, for he is R. Michael.

R. Michael. I encountered him on my second day in the call center when I settled into the desk I would be using for a while and looked across the window in our shared cubicle wall to see his mug staring back at me. (We had these attached double cubicles, with one wall missing a whole half, so you really did have a desk "neighbor.") R. Michael (yes, he went by "R. Michael") had a Midwestern/southern accent and had trouble standing still. He was undoubtedly one of those "Look at me! Look at me!" kids when he was younger. He was primarily a sales rep, and he would pace up and down the row of desks around his, trying to sell everyone everything. What made it an even more amusing visual was the fact that we had to wear these awful headsets, and every once in a while R. Michael would walk a little farther than the cord would allow, and he'd have to jolt himself back towards his desk before losing the headset. R. Michael was also pretty much the only person who would stand at his desk. But there he'd be, blathering on and on. He was as slick as a used car salesman, and I would find myself trying not to laugh from hearing his responses to what people were saying to him. I imagine the customers were saying things that could be interpreted as, "Are you effing kidding me with this shit?" or "Shut uuuuuuuuup," (which is what I'd be saying) or "Listen here, bitchcakes, my cable isn't working. Why would I want to buy 8 movie channels just to not be able to watch them?" or "Dude, it's cable. You're not trying to sell me mutual funds here. Dial it down a notch, bucko." Well, if it was Richie Cunningham calling, I'm sure he'd add the 'bucko.'

Then there was the popcorn. For about a month, that's pretty much all R. Michael ate. He'd disappear from his desk for a few minutes, and the next thing I knew I would smell eau de microwaved fake butter wafting over the cubicle wall. Sometimes he'd eat two bags a day. He'd just sit there, munching feverishly.

He really did entertain us, though. His voice carried, so we'd all hear his trials and tribulations. He always had some kind of a story to tell. He acted very hoity-toity and materialistic, yet he'd also gleefully cackle quite loudly about going after his ex-wife for alimony. I don't even think she was working at the time, yet he vowed to "take her for every penny she has!" Charming. But like I said, it was entertainment for us. A good example of our love of his shenanigans is the day I showed up to work to find all of the names on the cubicle walls in our shared row covered up and replaced with new reading new names, all with the same common factor: "R. Pam," "R. Tracey," "R. Jonathan," "R. Leslie." It was great. Anyway, the best story came one day when R. Michael didn't show up for work on time and no one knew where he was. He finally showed up a few hours later, completely frazzled. He then launched into a story about where he was that I wish I could remember all of the particulars to. From what I can remember (and what he said), R. Michael showed up to court that morning to pay a traffic ticket and found himself being led away in handcuffs by the police. Apparently, a man the same age who was also named R. Michael at one time resided one street over from somewhere R. Michael used to live in Ohio or Iowa, and was wanted for committing some murders. It was all a little too coincidental for everyone's liking. I mean, how many men living on streets within a mile of each other in the Midwest are 38 and named R. Michael?? WTF? It's still a little coincidental to me to this day, but hey. I guess after extensive questioning, they ended up letting R. Michael go. However, from that day on, he jokingly referred to himself as the office serial killer. A few weeks later, he was fired for allegedly tampering with cable accounts of some of his exes, charging them for all kinds of things that they didn't order or have. And thus, the popcorn smell was gone forever.

Well, not really forever. A few weeks later he was managing a Papa Gino's right down the street. And now, a few years later, I read that he is a high school teacher. Good Lord. Those poor kids. I wonder if they know that their teacher is possibly wanted for murders he may or may not have committed. I also wonder if he eats popcorn in class. I really didn't have to wonder about much else once I saw that picture of him wielding a sword at his wedding reception.

Friggin' R. Michael.

Celebrity Boyfriend of the Day: DJ Tony from The Ellen DeGeneres Show
So cute, with the sexy accent and the adorable laugh. I want to make him giggle uncontrollably. But really, he should stop playing that Things That Make You Go "Hmmm..." song right away.

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before & after





2007-09-26 - Follow Me!
2006-09-30 - Site Move & Favorite Entries
2006-09-25 - Evil Easter Bunnies & Rock Climbing!
2006-09-22 - Shameful-Purchase Hiding & A New Dentist Plan
2006-09-19 - Birthday Picture/Video Diary & The Wheelmobile





Copyright 2003-2006 by Sockgirlie. Stealing is wrong.