Confessions of a Genius Co-worker |
This blog is dedicated to Connie, a woman whose moments of complete stupidity pass over our shared cubicle wall like little paper airplanes of blithering ignorance. A single middle-aged accountant with cougar-ish tendencies, when Connie isn't asking how many pieces of quinoa there are in a cup or messing up our company's credit rating, she can mostly be found singing along to Lady Gaga's Bad Romance in a voice just loud enough to hear. From the next building. And before you ask: Names have been changed to protect the functionally useless. |
| Me: | Connie isn't in her office...do you know where she is? |
| Recently hired temp: | No, sorry. I haven't seen her around for a while. |
| Me: | Okay. Thanks. |
| RHT: | You know, I get the impression that even when she is in the office...she... |
| Me: | Uh huh? |
| RHT: | ...she isn't really *there*... |
| Me: | Ah. |
| RHT: | ...in the head. |
| Me: | That's a pretty common belief. |