That Guy Part Two

I’ve somehow initiated another ongoing series – devoted to That Guy – a non-gender-specific term of course – describing examples of folks we all encounter too frequently for our own sanity. That Guy is someone whose sole purpose in existence is to serve as a warning to others while they dig in under your skin like an Alabama tick. No offense to folks from The ‘Bam – that’s the way I heard it.

This part of my second issue of That Guy is inspired by Archon, who outlined some choice office fucktards to hate. Sadly, I’ve encountered all of these freaks at some point in my past:

Conan the Grammarian: This OCD fuckwad is compelled to edit does just that. Turn in a document, get it back with red ink. Send an email, it gets answered, and with grammar and style suggestions. Even better, Conan the Grammarian wasn’t an English major, and when s/he’s the boss, expect to be doing edits on previous edits.

The Interrupter: This special person (English: hockey-gear special) never learned that it’s bad manners to interrupt grownups when they’re on the phone. The Interrupter will steam right into your cubicle, launching into a solo about the crisis du jour, and after five minutes of speaking will finally notice you’ve got the phone mashed on your ear and you’re making finger-across-the-throat movements. Little do they know that typically means, “I’m about to slash you here with a KFC spork and bathe in your gore, you clueless dillhole.”

The Secret Starer: The Starer is the fraternal twin to The Interrupter. On the phone or not, Secret Starer will creep to your doorway and eyefuck the back of your head whether you’re on the phone, typing a key report, or just trying to win at Solitaire. Starer will continue this until you get that creepy “someone is eyefucking the back of my head” feeling and turn around. Even better is when the eyefuck mojo doesn’t work and you wheel around in your chair and promptly eat your own heart as this creeper smiles and starts talking like nothing weird just happened. On weekends, this hammer brain peeps in windows but doesn’t jack off because that would be rude.

And some other ones I noted painfully:

Mother of Misery: The Mother is angry and bitter over the betrayal of her by her own uterus. Unable to junk-punch herself in the ovaries, she instead funnels all of her party-life-lost fury into constant rage at her kid – or kids. Which is not to say that sometimes little heathens don’t need their reset button popped, but every ten minutes? Also, guys can be the Mother of Misery as well, and in those cases, you just call them ‘bitch.’

Where’s My Car?: This nervous, over-protective douchebag still has an active car alarm. You never know who’s out there to steal your car, and this fuckwit’s fully prepared to battle evil. Too bad he works on the other side of the building from yours, where right under your window, his car alarm is going off stridently for an hour after a squirrel ran across his hood. Gotta protect that 1984 Buick that you can see the frame through the rust holes in the body and the interior smells like Chee-Toh’s and tepid asscrack.

So, who’s your ‘That Guy’? 

40 Responses to “That Guy Part Two”

  1. I work with an Interrupter/Secret Starer..though, he is not very secret. He freaking pisses me and the lady I share an office with off.
    I once told him, “I am busy, tell me later.” To which he replied, “oh, ok.”
    And he continued to talk… UGH!

    And parents.. no need to be a twit to your own spawn. Yelling never helps. It just makes you look like an ass.

    Great post! 😀

  2. That’s “Cheetos,” with no ‘h.’ 😉

  3. I work with a Starer…I’ve been tempted to mule-kick him in the balls many a time. As for Grammarians, I’m an English major, so I can’t help myself sometimes. Though I never step out of bounds, I don’t think.

  4. My husband is a different form of an interrupter. I start contrubuting to a conversation and he just talks louder over me. I just shut up and give him “the look”. Yet he hasn’t seemed to notice.

  5. savorthefolly Says:

    I must admit I have a terrible case of treatment resistent interrupter (somehow I bet this doesn’t surprise anyone). My only defense is that I grew up in a large family where the only way to get a word in edgewise was to violently insert your opinion.

    As for all the other “that guys,” I read these descriptions and without realize it immediately begin planning a treatment program. In some cases it sounds fun, in other cases I get about two thoughts into it and decide to refer them out.

  6. whiteladyinthehood Says:

    hahahaha…great post.

      • whiteladyinthehood Says:

        We had Downer-Chick at the office. The person who was never happy. You could say, you look nice today, she would reply with 27 million reasons why she didn’t, take her to a nice lunch – she would scarf her sandwhich and then say it had too much mayo…she also had Power of the Zombie..we got really nice bonuses one year and everyone was happy until Downer-Chick infected everyone with thinking they had over-taxed them…then 1/2 the staff was upset thinking they got screwed…Power of the Zombie.

  7. So, your response to last week’s Weekly Question of the Week, about what the government is doing with all the hours it takes, is one of the finalists! You should begin the relentless self-promotion and voting for yourself – the poll is on my main page right now. I’m still working on the formatting, though, so this may change.

  8. Conan the Grammarian well one! I mean good one.

  9. Thanx for the referral. At least it wasn’t to another doctor. I’m a barely controlled Conan. I saw that Chee-Tohs and…. I’ve corrected both Sparkle and H.E., but neither of them has been issued a Berretta AND an Abrams.

    • Too late, Southern Sea Muse already nailed me on that this morning. Obviously I don’t stare at Cheetos bags enough, do I? Good or bad, you decide.

  10. I always took care of the Stealth Starer by making sure there was something on my desk worthy of being stared at. With women, the best tool was a photo of some gorgeous lady from one of the sci-fi shows, with an autograph referring to me as “my very special friend”, or with thanks for a particular weekend’s fun. It actually worked rather well on the guys, too, come to think of it.
    We had a “where’s my car” guy in college, an FA who was obsessed over some crappy POS Ford. Our revenge was to hire kids to go out to the parking lot and CONSTANTLY tap the bumper, setting his (blessedly) silent alarm off (vibrating pager), causing him to tear out of the lab at Warp Nine to go protect his beauty. I think he went through a couple car batteries and a few pagers before he finally figured out the alarm wasn’t worth the hassle. 😀

  11. The “Praising Mantis”. We actually have two of these where I work. I think they attended a seminar at some point that extolled the virtues of praise, false or otherwise.

    They outline some type of new plan or policy in a meeting and someone asks a question to which PM will reply “That’s a GREAT question, BOB! Thank you SO much for bringing up this VERY important point!” and on and on as if stalling while they come up with the answer to the question.

    They also love to click ye olde “reply all” button to simple e-mails notifying the team of something minor with over-the-top, uncalled for “Great job! WOW!” type of drivel.

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