Because He Still Looks So Good

"The truest characters of ignorance are vanity, and pride and arrogance." ~ Samuel Butler

Loathsome dropped by my office this morning. I've been avoiding him for weeks now, but our paths intersected at the comptroller's office this morning and, seeing a chance for preening, he seized the opportunity. I had just turned on my computer and was starting to work on my breakfast bagel when there was an ominous knock at the door.

Damn. I knew exactly who it was. We had yet to discuss the new contract he obtained. I knew there was no way to stop it. I couldn't pretend I wasn't in because he just saw me. I couldn't tell him to go away because a big part of my job at this point is providing aid and comfort to other employees. (Let me just say that this is a mighty big job and not one I would have applied for, had I had a choice. That's just how I roll.) I couldn't pick up the phone and pretend to be having a conversation. Having eliminated all potential means to escape, I told him to come in.

He started the conversation by asking me how I've been feeling. This was just an opening gambit and I recognized it as such immediately. So I actually told him. In some detail. I also told him about upcoming appointments, who they were with and the possible pain levels associated with each. I never ever do that, but this qualified as an emergency. I was prepared to debase myself in order to make him suffer a bit before he turned the spotlight on himself.

When I ran out of things to say about myself, I quickly turned the tables on him and asked how his wrist has been feeling. He wore out all the cartilage in his right wrist a couple of years ago and the last time I was trapped into talking with him, he told me all about it. I started avoiding him at that point, weeks before the bid he was working on was accepted. Sorry about the wrist, Buddy, now get the hell out of my office.

I pumped him with questions about his pain level and pretended to give a shit. I knew he was dying to get around to telling me how busy he was with the new contract. Loathsome started working his way towards that goal by telling me how afraid he is that his wrist won't keep up with the gruelling work load looming in front of him.

There was no turning back. On and on he went about how crazy the client is, how many 12 hour days he'll be working, how he can't find qualified workers. I finally broke down and offered some admiration and sympathy. That's all he wanted, after all. I should have just gotten to the point and saved myself some time and irritation.

Could he tell the praise was begrudging at best? Of course not. Because no one is sold on Loathsome quite as much as he is. Because he's the most praise worthy guy he knows. And, oh yeah...he looks so good.