I work on an in-house security team for a building. Today, I used the emergency exit to enter our cafeteria in pursuit of beverages because our janitorial staff was cleaning right in front of the main doors and I didn’t want to make footprints. Using this door brought me into the cafeteria from an unusual direction, and I ended up catching an employee off-guard.

He is a heavily-built guy — about 360 pounds on a six-foot-tall frame — and he was kneeling on the floor with his face pressed against the glass of our soda vending machine, his hands limp at his sides.

Me: “Ummm, are you okay?”

Employee: “Yeaaaah.”

Me: “Uhh… Whatcha… doin’?”

Employee: “Fitness.”

Me: “Sorry?”

Employee: “I told myself that I would only get a [Sugary Tea Drink] if I could do the same number of squats as the item number.”

I look at the machine. The tea in question is item fifty-two.

Me: “Oh…”

Employee: “Yeah, it didn’t go well. I fell down.”

Me: “Do you require a medical response?”

Employee: “No.”

Me: “Can you get up?”

Employee: “I can… but I decided not to.”

Me: “Oh, uhhh… Do you want to talk about it?”

Employee: “What? Really?”

Me: “Yeah, I don’t see why not.”

This perked him up and he got to his feet. We are now going to meet up and work out together in the building fitness center after my shift and talk about weight loss and goals and things.

I have a coworker who seems to be unaware of social cues. Then, someone else asked him about his autism diagnosis, and he started screaming about how “r****ds can’t have engineering degrees.” So, it turns out he is just an a**hole who does what he wants and doesn’t care if he offends people.

For Halloween one year, someone decorates our break room with generic non-spooky decorations and a few of us bring snacks. [Coworker] enters and everyone stops talking. No one wants to engage in a conversation with him because even when you’re right, he’ll degrade you until you admit he was right after all. 

Coworker: *In a “this is below me” tone* “Why are we glorifying paganism today?”

Manager: “We’re glorifying sugar.”

Coworker: “You know, people used to dress up to hide from evil spirits.”

Manager: “And now we eat candy. Enjoy the free food, [Coworker].”

Coworker: *Sigh* “Diabetes will kill us all. But fine, enjoy your feet rotting off.”

As he reaches for a cupcake, [Manager] pulls the platter from his reach.

Coworker: “What are you doing?”

Manager: “[Coworker], this is not a big fancy holiday. People are not feeling thankful or joyful, and your Negative Nancy attitude is exhausting.”

Coworker: “Excuse you?”

Manager: “Be a team player. Be thankful for the people who spent their time and money making this food.”

Coworker: “I am a team player! I’m the reason anything gets done here!”

Manager: “Be a team player or be alone. It’s your choice.”

[Manager] puts the cupcakes down and turns to sit down. [Coworker] stands with his hands balled into fists, turning red.

Coworker: *Gently picking up a cupcake* “Thank you for the food.”

He does think a little bit before he speaks and people are more willing to talk to him, so hopefully, it will continue.

I would like to say I’m frugal, but it’s a lie since I’m downright cheap. I have very good reasons for being so cheap, but suffice to say I’m well known around the office for how extremely cheap I can be. We often joke about it, and I take no offense in general to mocking my own cheapness.

One day, the office is having a potluck. I considered bringing something in, but I can’t cook, and anything I can think of to buy and bring to the potluck which would be sufficient quality to meet my coworkers’ standards seems like it would be more expensive than my usual lunchtime meals, so I decide to not participate in the interest of saving money. And, to be honest, it’s laziness; I don’t want to go to a store just to buy something for the potluck.

On the day of the potluck, my coworker notices me still sitting at my desk as everyone is filtering out to the conference room where we will have the potluck.

Coworker: “Hey, [My Name], are you coming?”

Me: “No, sorry. I’m going to sit this one out, but have fun.”

Coworker: “What? Why would you do that?”

Me: “I didn’t bring anything, so it wouldn’t be fair of me to take the food everyone else brought.”

Coworker: “Oh, I’m sure no one would mind this once.”

Me: “Yeah, but we end up doing something like this every other month. One time might be okay, but if I did it every month, eventually, it’s just mooching.”

Coworker: “Well, you could at least come join us even if you aren’t eating.”

Me: “I tried that the last two times, and everyone kept insisting I had to eat when I got there. I figured I’d just stay here working this time so that wouldn’t happen again.”

Coworker: “That’s not fair to you. Look, I brought two dishes, so I earned the right to eat twice as much, right? You can have my second helpings so it all evens out.”

We go back and forth a few more times, my coworker not accepting my intention to sit out. Eventually, I cave and go with her to appease her, and while I do try to just attend the potluck without eating, she all but forces me to take some food, as well.

Coworker #2: “Wow, [My Name] is here? I’m surprised you were willing to actually buy food for this.”

Me: “Actually, I didn’t. I was planning to sit out, but [Coworker] forced me to come join in.”

Coworker #2: *Jokingly* “Ah, couldn’t say no to stealing a bit of free food, huh?”

Me: “You know, some days you can’t win no matter what you try.”

In the mid-1980s, I worked for a naval architecture firm. Our building didn’t have a secure entrance; you could just call an elevator from the garage or walk in the front lobby door at any time. Our office suite, however, did have a mechanical cipher lock. It had five buttons, and the office manager regularly reset it to a three-digit code for security purposes. Due to the mechanics of it, duplicate digits weren’t possible for an entry code.

One Saturday, I went in to finish some work because I’d left early on Friday. But when I got to the suite, the code that had worked Friday didn’t work today. I really needed to finish my work, and I didn’t think anyone else would be in the suite, so knocking wouldn’t help. This was before cell phones, so I couldn’t call anyone. Even if I’d had a cell phone, I knew only one coworker’s number, our receptionist.

I went down to our lobby, which had a payphone, and called her apartment. There was no answer. I then started thinking about the cipher lock. With only five possible digits, and using only three uniquely, there were only sixty permutations possible. So, I went up to the suite and started trying all the permutations: 1-2-3, 1-2-4, 1-2-5, 1-3-2, 1-3-4, etc. In less than a minute, I’d hit upon the new code. I went in and finished my work.

On Monday, I went to my office manager and told her how easy it was to crack the cipher lock. She then looked at the lock manual and decided to incorporate simultaneous button presses to make it more secure. I then noticed that we had a new receptionist. The office manager said our previous receptionist had been fired late Friday, and that’s why the door code had been changed.

It was a good thing, then, that she didn’t answer her phone. That would’ve been an awkward conversation.

I work in a little business park where all the little offices are set up like little houses. We get along well with the other businesses, particularly the one next door. Their owner plays golf with our owner. We even had our Christmas Dinner combined one year.

One month, we held a big event for our customers. One of the managers over-ordered, which prompted the catering company to over-deliver. Suddenly, we had all this food that we struggled to give away and probably wouldn’t be good tomorrow. The owner asked if I could take a big box next door; their owner loves his food.

Dutifully, I packed up an assortment and went next door.

Through the glass, I saw a receptionist, a new one. She watched me struggle to open the door and walk up to her. And with an exasperated sigh, she said:

Receptionist: “We don’t want it.”

Me: “Oh, no, you see, I’ve just come from next door, and—”

Receptionist: “Look. Frankly, I don’t care what you’re selling or what charity you’re supporting. I’ve told you lot we don’t want it.”

Me: “No, you see, I’m not selling them. It’s all for—”

Receptionist: “Ugh, I don’t care. Call it what you want. I don’t want it.”

Me: “Jeez. Fine.”

I walked out the door; she watched me struggle again. I saw their owner get out of his car and walk to the door. This was going to be perfect.

Owner: “Ooooh, freebies?”

Me: “Help yourself!”

Owner: “Thanks! Hey, where are you going?”

Me: “Oh, I was told if you didn’t want them to throw them.”

I threw the box into the big roll-top bin in the car park. The owner stared, mouth open.

Owner: “But why?”

Me: “Ask your receptionist.”

I went back to work and didn’t say a word. I forgot about it.

A few days later, the owner asked me what happened, and I told him that his receptionist was incredibly rude and abrupt.

She wasn’t there the following week.

Related:
A Most Unreceptive Receptionist, Part 15
A Most Unreceptive Receptionist, Part 14
A Most Unreceptive Receptionist, Part 13
A Most Unreceptive Receptionist, Part 12
A Most Unreceptive Receptionist, Part 11