Monday, June 13, 2011


I'm starting to fit in with my coworkers at work.  More exactly, some of them have confused my inappropriateness and verbal diarrhea with instead, a hearty sense of humor.  Allow me to explain.

I started this Monday morning by stubbing my toe as I walked out of my apartment building.   So I didn't have high hopes for this day going smoothly.  To make matter's worse, on today's agenda was a 6 hour meeting on generational differences, or as it turned out, more aptly, "What's up with these damn kids and their texting?"  During the meeting I got bored and started to doodle (lack of attention-span is apparently a classic trait of those in the "Millennial" generation).  Naturally, because my Irish co-worker and I are are pale and chatted this morning about how we both got crispy instead of tan this weekend, the doodle I decided to draw was a picture of a ghost (me) and a four-leaf clover (my Irish co-worker) sunning themselves with the caption, "What Claire and I wish we were doing now instead of sitting through this meeting."  Naturally.  I was pretty proud of myself and I passed it across to the adjacent table where Claire was sitting.

After we broke for lunch, I found Claire and said, "How'd you like my cartoon?"   She looked at me, and said in her hearty Irish accent (now understand, she is actually Irish, as in born in Ireland) "It was bloody brilliant.  And I thought to meself as I read it, 'I really like her.   I want to hang out with her outside work.'" I nearly pee'd myself I was so excited.   You know how there is a "cool girl" in every crowd?  Someone everyone wants to be friends with?  At work, Claire is that "cool girl".   I feel like the captain of the cheerleading squad just asked me to sit at her lunch table.  

In addition to feeling awesome for having made not only a friend, but a cool friend,  I was in rare form as we ate lunch outside on the office deck space.  I don't know, maybe sitting for three hours listening to Baby Boomers describe why they think every subsequent generation sucks made me feisty and irreverent.   The meeting, by the way, was council wide, meaning all four Ohio offices schlepped to Dayton for the event.   So when I say a group of us were sitting outside eating lunch on the deck, these are co-workers as well as people I've never met from other offices.   Yet my lack of familiarity with people didn't keep me from weighing in with my silly opinions.

Ok, backtracking for clarity's sake, in one of the exercises at the meeting, we were asked "What kind of recognition do you want from your office, if you could get any kind you wanted,"  and then we shared our answers in our small groups.   I, instead of saying "money" like nearly everyone else did, I said I wanted a compliment.  More specifically, I wrote out, "Annie, starting a new job is always stressful, but you're adjusting beautifully and we believe that you can do this job and do it well.  Also, you're really pretty."   I shared this in group.  That exact script.  I found nothing wrong with it.   Apparently, everyone else thought it was hilarious.   So this is what started the festivities on the deck.  

One coworker brought up my comment from group, and said, "so if anyone ever needs anything from Annie, just tell her she's pretty."   After that comment was brought up, I became drunk with power.  The attention had shifted on to me due to for my compliment-whore ways and  I realized the others thought I was being funny.  For the first time since starting work a week and half ago, I was the funny girl instead of the brooding new weirdo in the corner cubicle.   I felt the spotlight on me.   And I seized it.   I was on.  Bam Bam Bam like a stand up comedian.   I told stories about my hippie sister, my thoughts on how some people are so stupid they can't choose which flavor smoothie they want, and how I'm becoming boring and prematurely middle-aged.   TWO people came up to me after the lunch conversation with positive comments. One person said, "I think your quote about smoothies was hilarious, I'm going to use that,"  even more surprisingly another unlikely candidate, a school-marmish looking middle aged woman with a severe bun said, "I really enjoyed you at lunch... you have such spunk."   Oh, stop!  

I am victorious.  I have broken through the tedious world of the office clique.   I may not be in the in crowd just yet, but funny gets you far, and now I am the newest "class clown" at the office.

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