Clerks

From an unnamed university in the greater San Francisco Bay Area...

Well today I had to say an unexpected goodbye. The girl who works at our little local market is moving away. She is very nice, but I am not terribly sad about her departure. I'm sure her replacement will be able to sell me kombucha tea and Kudos bars just as effectively.

But then men in my general vicinity must be beside themselves. Dudes LOVE this girl. She is very pretty. She's Asian, tall and thin with flawless skin and shiny hair, and the kicker: Rivers Cuomo glasses. She looks better in those black hipster glasses than anyone else I have ever seen or ever will see. I'd be jealous of the way men are putty in her hands if I wasn't so amused. If I am ever in the market in the presence of man, I know I will have to watch him try to flirt awkwardly with the poor girl, who clearly had no interest in being hit on, as well as not the world's best understanding of English.

Today was no exception. I was holding my Pomegranate White Tea and mini-Toblerone anxiously while he tried to chat her up. I caught the tail end of their conversation. I'm guessing she said that she is moving back to her home country shortly.

Guy: Well I'll have to come back soon to say a proper goodbye (translation: try to make out with you).
Girl: Actually, today is my last day.
Guy: Oh no! And you go back to Viet--nam?
Girl: South Korea.
Guy: Oh....yeah. Well it's been great getting to know you, I'll miss you around here (goes in for hug)
Girl: (goes in for handshake, accepts awkward side hug instead) Yes, goodbye.

Our goodbye was less awkward and one sided. I told her it had been nice seeing her everyday and she said she liked to see what beverage/treat combination I got each afternoon (I like to mix it up: my only rule is that I cannot get soda or a full-sized candy bar); I wished her a safe journey home and promised not to tell any of the men who work in my building that today was her last day. She smiled the smile of true relief that only a girl who is constantly bombarded with unwanted male attention must be capable of feeling and thanked me. Bitch.

The Power of Positive Thinking

From an unnamed production office for an undisclosed television show in an address-withheld building in LA where the elevators are shockingly slow...

At least I have a job.  At least I have a job.  At least I have a job.  My job gives me money and money can buy me candy.  I like candy.  I like candy.  I like candy.  I can eat candy at my desk.  My desk is not in a coal mine or on one of those boats that the guys on "Deadliest Catch" are on or in a dumpster filled with dirty diapers, and no I don't know whose desk would ever be in a dumpster filled with dirty diapers, but at least mine isn't.  Mine isn't.  Mine isn't.  Aaaaand... That's about as positive as it gets today.  I should write a book on this stuff.

You Say Hello, I Say Do We Have To?

From an unnamed production office for an undisclosed television show in an address-withheld building in LA where the elevators are shockingly slow...

On my floor at work there is a guy I don't know whose desk is, let's call it, one hundred feet from mine (keep in mind that if you told me that one hundred feet was also the average distance from the floor to the ceiling I would, with only brief hesitation, believe you).  I pass him on my frequent, previously-discussed trips to the ladies' room, and every time I go to the break room to visit the Peanut M&M's in the vending machine (I don't bring them home to my desk, but I like to gaze longingly at them and imagine the day that I learn how to run without doubling over wheezing so that I might- on that day- justify making them my very own).  I do not know this man's name.  I know that it isn't the same as the guy whose desk is immediately next to his, but most of the time I can't remember that guy's name either, so my process of elimination isn't what I would call strong.

Well last week this guy and I literally ran into each other in the hall.  Our office has lots of abrupt turns and narrow passageways, and- full disclosure- I worked with a blind girl before and I- with full sight- bumped into twice as many things as she did walking- literally- blind, so this hallway shoulder check was more than likely my fault.  Anyway, in the wake of our elbows colliding, this guy feels that we now have to say hello to each other.  Aggressively.  Not just in that really awkward way that I already have to say hello to my coworkers around the building when we are walking towards each other from a distance in the hall, and have to choose at which point in our long approach we are going to acknowledge each other with some greeting, and then either look at our phones or some interesting imaginary thing on the floor so that we don't have to make steady eye contact until we clear each other.  I mean, nameless shoulder checker wants to do that, too, but in addition he now shouts from his desk whenever I pass to say hello, and once I say it back, we've exhausted our conversational repertoire.  Because what could we talk about?  Work?  I don't even think he plays Scrabble.

Celebeerty

From an unnamed production office for an undisclosed television show in an address-withheld building in LA where the elevators are shockingly slow...

It seems as though no one is my office today is getting much done, but I have absolutely no idea why.

That's a lie.  This is the recycling container in our office.  This is why:

Yesterday one of my coworkers and I were given the illustrious college-degree-required task of going to Ralph's and buying alcohol and candy for some special celebrity guests that were coming to tape our show.  At first we were at least excited for the out of office field trip time, but I disappointed us both with my extreme alcohol and candy efficiency once we got to the store (it was almost as though I was overly familiar with those particular aisles thanks to years of experience frequently buying alcohol and candy and consuming too much of it each day.  Weird!)

But- No one was disappointed when the celebrity guests left some Ralph's club savings beer behind.  What could we do after 13 hours in the office, but go upstairs and drink until it was nearly time to come back?  Thanks, nameless non-beer-drinking semi-famous people.