Russ: Come Collect Yo Crazy Ass Brother

Russ' brother is clinically insane. All the women I work with have crazy relatives and crazy children. Do not think that they were the only lucky ones in the family tree. They are crazy too.

Russ' brother came in last week and stumbled on his cane back to my cubicle. (He's 42 and not injured). Russ was not in yet, as she earned the right to sleep 'til 10 when she achieved the impressive milestone of turning 50. He didn't look me directly in the face (apparently staring does not run in the family). Rather, he stared off into space and demanded to see his sister. After I informed him that she was not in yet, he chose to have a seat at a chair near MY desk. There he proceeded to talk about his photography, despite the fact that I was clearly busy emailing my coworker and making fun of him.

Today he came in again. Russ saw him come in. Her cubicle is in plain view of the aisle. My cubicle, as I have said before, is far in the back. You know she heard him come in. You KNOW she saw him walk by. She heard him come back to my desk and start talking to me. Still, she did nothing. I had to call this woman across the office to come collect her crazy ass brother. He proceeded to hang around my desk for a while and show me a sample of his photography - a church with spiderwebs on it. Something about this man causes me to talk to him as if he is a child: "Yes! That's a very good picture - yes it is!"

Russ, you owe me an apology for your crazy ass brother. Do not pretend like he did not come over here.

Russ and the Staring Game

I have already relocated myself to the most remote cubicle in the name of "being closer to a window." There isn't much more I can do, other than construct a door, to remove myself from the main path of travel in this office. I am happiest when I manage to make it through an entire day without seeing any of my coworkers.

Russ, however, will find a way to walk by. And when she walks by, she will stare. Don't get me wrong, I understand basic social interactions. I know that society requires me to look up from my email in the morning and smile at this woman, as if I have not just seen her the very day before.

But this is not the reason Russ stares. I can tell by the blank look on her face that she isn't staring in hopes of interacting with me. She isn't even aware that I am on the other side of her gaze seeing her staring at me. She is staring as a child stares at a passing ice cream truck, simply to observe an object of interest. I am not an object, Russ. I see you staring at me.

One day it was so unbelievably awkward and long, that I was forced to say, "What?" I was expecting something along the lines of, "Did you fix your hair differently?" But alas, this question was met with a continued blank stare and then she was gone.

Introductions

I work at a small interior design firm in a small city. As is common in this field, I am one of 2 young women working side by side with 3 women who are older than my parents. As you can imagine, this generational gap brings about many interesting encounters. These encounters often require that I vent or decompress with my fellow young coworker, because - of course - I am against murdering the elderly.

Recently, however, the upcoming election has correlated violently with the increasing age of my coworkers, and I have therefore developed the need to take my venting public.

Introductions:
All names have been changed in the interest of my continued employment. All women have been given male names to further demonstrate the ridiculousness of these people.

Randall:

• The personification of insecurity (thanks to her architect husband) portrayed as supreme confidence and arrogance
• Only buys shoes with one criterion: that they are completely silent so as to aid her sneaking up on you
• Walks around the office slower than a sloth for the aforementioned reason, but also to pass the time since Randall hasn't done any work since approximately 1972
• Doesn't acknowledge that the cost of living increases annually; The lack of raises is supposedly recovered through weekend-long company trips to Atlanta to spend money I don't have with people I don't like. Yippee!
• Dons a massive forehead that she proudly parades around the office, slowly

Lewis:

• Shorter than most children
• Favors a bulldog
• Loud, obnoxious, ignorant
• Whistles. Whistles at work. Whistles the same song all day without regard to anyone else's feelings
• Terrified of the entire world including rainstorms and homeless people
• Is the first to arrive at work and therefore re-locks the elevator behind her to prevent, I'm guessing, her abduction from the third floor of an occupied building
• Bellows "Hello??" from the back of the office when the next person arrives and the sensor dings, because, you know, several burglars around town also have keys to unlock the elevator that you - just - locked - behind - you, Idiot.
• Thinks that her typewriter degree from 1984 combined with her age has qualified her as a registered Interior Designer

Russ:

• Airhead bordering on mental retardation
• Enormously tall, almost masculine except for a pretty head
• Hasn't updated her technological skills beyond 1984
• Has no respect for personal space - barrels into your office, resembling what can only be described as a Bull in a China Shop, and knocks several things off your desk
• Such a big, disorganized mess that she can't even manage tasks as simple as keeping her phone cord untangled
• Has raised three idiot daughters who, on a daily basis, overdraw their checking accounts by a minimum of 300 dollars, change their major, and wreck their car
• Has a cellphone set to the most annoying ring tone imaginable, which she leaves behind at the office every chance she gets
• Doesn't gently take brochures you pass to her in rep presentations - snatches them from you like a prisoner at lunch