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. |
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Notes Connie is really on form this afternoon…all these are from the same conversationConnie: “Hey, we have the same type of cellphone, right? Is yours working okay?”
Me: [checks] “Yes, why?”
Connie: “Hmm, mine isn’t working.”
Me: “For how long?”
Connie: “Since I spilled a cup of coffee on it.”
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Connie was telling me that she’d emailed all her friends to ask their telephone numbers because her phone had broken, but nobody had responded yet, and she was panicking. She showed me the email. She’d sent it to her own address and no others.
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Connie: “The thing with language is that there are more and more words and then you have a lot of cinnamons.”
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Connie: “Kids these days can’t spell and they can’t add up because of computers and phones. Our brains are so big but we only use 1% of them. I probably only use a quarter of that.”
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