Thursday, July 16, 2009

The Ick Factor

I don't really like blogging about work. It all comes down to the fear of getting caught talking crap about people behind their backs. Are you with me on this?

But lately?? Lately, I have had a few experiences that just have to be shared with the masses. One of the reasons I started this blog was to get all this junk in my head out of my head. I need to purge it in order to get over it. It's my way of building a bridge, you know?

Working with the public is a crazy thing. I have been subjected to a variety of disgusting behaviors from total strangers. Like the guy who coughed in my face one day. Or the lady who has not showered since 1982. Or the girl who was high on meth and had thrown up all over her shirt and decided to lay across the top of my desk. Or the man who consistently picks his nose in the drive thru and has passed me a booger on more than one occasion.

Sigh.

So yesterday this guy came in to my office with a raging case of pink eye.

And I have no idea what possessed him to think it was okay to go out in public with this condition, and I realize I am not a medical professional, but I feel very comfortable in saying that it is never appropriate to invade the personal space of another human being whilst oozing highly contagious infectious fluid from your eyes. Furthermore, wiping said oozing infectious fluid with your hand and then placing your hands on the desks of others? Also inappropriate.

But the most inappropriate of all? Questioning my hesitation to allow him to use my phone, pen or other office supplies. Seriously dude? Have you looked in the mirror?? Do the world a favor and see a freaking doctor, stat!

Needless to say, as soon as he exited the building, I busted out the Clorox wipes and began scrubbing like a Ritalin addicted housewife.

And then I was ready for the next customer....

Now, I realize it is hot out outside. It is summer in Arizona which is equal to sitting within the pits of hell. And it must be difficult being a truck driver and having to sit for such long periods of time in excruciating weather conditions. However, I think with a little brainstorming, one can come up with a few ideas for better places in which to store their cash.

Pulling a stack of bills out of the front pocket of your jeans and handing it to me without even the tiniest amount of shame and no apology for the dampness is not really working for me. Handling a wad of money soaked in crotch sweat doesn't really add to the quality of my day, you know? I am a big fan of wallets. And some men have had huge success with the satchel. I wouldn't even bat an eyelash over a ziploc bag. Anything to keep a barrier between the sweat glands in your nether regions and my precious fingertips would be great. Mmmkay?

So you can imagine that after those two customers back to back, I was in serious need of a Silkwood shower. And then maybe a half hour or so marinating in the anti-chlamydia gel our home office was kind enough to send us during the swine flu scare.

Good God, people are disgusting.

7 comments:

Kristi said...

Ohmygod, I feel disgusted just reading that. GROSS!!!!!!!

"Intentionally Katie" said...

I think I just threw up a little in my mouth...

DevilsHeaven said...

Making me gag this early in the morning is really uncalled for.
However, I agree with you on all counts and I bet you $10 that your bathroom offender didn't wash her hands either. Cause that's how those people roll.

Trisha said...

I feel your pain! After working with kids for 15 years, I have pretty much experienced everything you went through. Luckily, though, never all in one day! Keep those Clorox wipes handy!

Karen R said...

You deserve combat pay.

Sue said...

I'm pretty sure I'm gunna hurl.

I promise not to do it on your desk.

Gladys said...

Do you watch The Office? In one episode Pam goes to microwave something and the microwave is disgusting and she leaves a note on the microwave. Everyone else gets all butt hurt because of her "pretencious note" I think you need to leave your blog entry out in the breakroom for everyone to see. Not signed of course.