She Wants Me Bad

A friend suggested, after reading about my co-worker, Loathsome, that I pretend to eye him lustily. I just had to respond. Loathsome thinks everybody wants him. Bad.

Several years ago, my company was working with a public relations firm to drum up some more business. Loathsome went along on one of the meetings the Company Owner had with the firm's representative. She was one of the owners of the pr firm, whom we'll call Carolyn. (No, that's not her real name.) When Loathsome got back to the office, he decided to share his thoughts about the meeting with me. The conversation went like this:

Loathsome: "The whole time I was there, she was giving me 'the look'."

I said, "What look?"

Loathsome: "You know, the look."

Again I said, "No, what look?" I was truly baffled.

He said, "The look I've been getting all my life."

Somehow it dawned on me that he was saying Carolyn was sending out some love beams in his direction. She wanted him. Bad.

"But Loathsome," I said, "She's gay."

"No she's not."

"Yes she is."

Then Loathsome wrapped up the conversation by saying,

"Well, she may be gay, but she still wants me"

I used to have to work with this asshole until I refused to continue to do it. He drove me out of my mind.

About five years ago, after Loathsome got back from his annual vacation to California, he provided me with a recounting of its many high points. One of them was that he'd dropped by a Zen monastery and gotten some real nice Zen accessories. No, he is not a Buddhist. He just thinks he looks good surrounded by them. Or maybe they look better when he's in the same room with them. Loathsome also spent some time in a hot tub with a (male) friend of his. He said, "I don't think the people there thought we were gay. I'm too manly looking. Don't you think?" I should have told him that they probably did think he was gay but hoped to get in on some of that Loathsome action anyway. Who wouldn't?

Mr. Moneybags, the comptroller of the company, told me this morning about a memo Loathsome sent to one of our clients. Loathsome was generous enough to share the contents with him. It ended with "...thank you for working with myself." I don't think I need to remind you of how crazy the whole "myself" thing makes me.

Before I put my foot down and refused to work with him anymore, Loathsome called me on the intercom one day and asked me to provide him with a word that meant "understanding." The Thesaurus here (another of my many fun job responsibilities) offered him some synonyms. None of them was the word he was searching for. He called me again, several hours later.

"I finally remembered the word. I'll email you a copy of the letter."

He was pretty self-congratulatory, knowing that (a) I'd want to read it and (b) I'd think it was brilliant. I read the letter as soon as I got it because I couldn't imagine that Loathsome could come up with a word I wouldn't have already guessed. (Just because Loathsome is definitely not known for his brains.) It was the usual fare. Virtually all pronouns were missing, there were several sentences missing a noun and/or a verb, and best of all, the closing read:

"Thank you for your cognizance."

I'll bet that whoever cognizanced him wanted him, too. Bad.