Wish You Were Here

Posted by John

Bad news – we had another round of layoffs at work last week and the New Kid was let go. Believe me when I say I have no intention of insensitively making light of this situation; as much as I’ve used the kid as fodder for the blog he truly has been a good friend and great to have around so I’m terribly sorry this happened. I wish him the best and really wish this never had to occur.

The whole event is upsetting for a number of reason, but not least of all because he was my only lunch buddy. Of course I’m not trying to make this about me, rather I’m just pointing out how fragile work friendships can be, especially within the current state of the economy. I had some stupid lady stop by my desk today and be all sympathetic like, “Ahh, how are you doing?” I wanted to be like, “Fuck off, don’t pity me! It’s not like my dog died; I just don’t have anyone to walk with me to Subway now. Why don’t you ask him how he’s doing; he’s the one that was let go.”

So instead of wallowing in misery for his or my sake, I’d like to take a moment to reflect back on some of the New Kid’s finest moments during his time of employment – as tastefully as I can of course:

-The time when the New Kid went to the bathroom and forgot to lock his computer so I sent an e-mail from him to the Old Guy in the office complementing his shirt and asking where he got it then witnessing the beautiful awkwardness unfold as the Old Guy told the New Kid where the shirt came from and the New Kid had no idea what in the hell he was talking about.

-The time I manufactured an e-mail from the New Kid to the Boss asking to be transferred to a different division. I could barely keep from shitting myself watching the New Kid try to scheme a way to get onto the Boss’ computer and delete the e-mail before he read it, even though the e-mail didn’t actually exist.

-The Ruffles Smokehouse BBQ Chips with Ridges at the Office Thanksgiving Potluck incident.

-The store-bought French quiche at the Italian-themed Office Christmas Potluck incident.

-The Mission: Impossible I Dirty Santa Gift Exchange debacle. And perhaps just as humorous was his confusion, even weeks later, about why that wasn’t a good Dirty Santa gift. Uh, because it’s a shitty gift for any dirty holiday mascot gift exchange, dude.

-Introducing a liter of liquor to the chocolate fondue during the 12 Days of Gluttony, unbeknownst to an office full of sober Southern Baptists and recovering alcoholics. Oh, it’s so good when it hits your lips…

-The time our boss had to retrieve him from the bathroom stall because he was late for a meeting. I wasn’t there for it but I’ve played that conversation out in my head every day since it happened:

New Kid: Oh my god, my colon is about to explode! I didn’t think I was going to make it in here. I didn’t even get any paper down on the seat, for Christ’s sake…”

Boss: “New Kid! New Kid!... You in here?”

New Kid: Fuck! “Uhh… yeah…”

Boss: “You’re late for our meeting!”

New Kid: Ahh, shit! “Uhh… okay. I’m just about done…” What the hell am I supposed to do now?!? Come on, push! Breathe and push!

Boss: “Hurry up, I’ve got things to do!”

New Kid: Dear God, if I push any harder my eyeballs are going to explode out of my fucking head!

I’m not sure if the next 45 minutes in that meeting were more hilarious or just horribly awkward as I watched the New Kid’s face change from pain, to fear, to shear terror. I’m not sure what happened in that stall after the meeting finally adjourned, but I didn’t use the office restroom for a month after that.

-His horrible rust-colored-workout-fleece Office Sweater that he wore every single day in the office.

-His $80 lizard-skin belt with monogrammed belt buckle.

-Bringing a bowl of Cheerios to a department meeting then slurping the milk up when he was done. Hmm, I wonder what the toy in the bottom of the box is going to be?

-Following that up a few days later with a piece of toast dripping with peanut butter. Mmm, I wuv pea’ut buh-er soo muh!

-His Louis Vuitton George Costanza wallet. Seriously, this thing was a fat as a triple-decker deli sandwich. I almost lost it the day I found out the reason it was so fat, and incidentally the reason he had to replace his credit card every two months, was because he actually carried change inside the wallet. I shit you not. There was like $7 in nickels, dimes, and quarters inside the goddamn wallet.

-The time we both skipped the Office Baby Shower recently and then snubbed both Administrative Assistant’s and the pregnant lady’s offers to help ourselves to leftover baby shower food only to be caught by all three of them as we returned to the office a few minutes later with take out we’d gotten down the street. Holy shit, do you want to talk about a horribly awkward encounter? Try stepping off the elevator with bags of food in your hand as three people are wheeling a cart full of leftover food that is going to the dumpster after you denied offers to consume said food not once, not twice, but thrice… and really four times actually because apparently the baby-to-be was done eating too.

-The time the New Kid’s buddies were in town for the weekend and they went out to a bar where they ran into the Hot Marketing Girl from the office. Except the Hot Marketing Girl had no idea who the New Kid was and the New Kid, as wasted as he was, made the catastrophic mistake of telling his buddy, as wasted as he was, that the hot girl across the bar was the Hot Marketing Girl. So Wasted Buddy went up to Hot Marketing Girl and was like, “Hey, you work at XYZ Firm, don’t you?”

Hot Marketing Girl: “Uhh, yeah. Do I know you?”

Wasted Buddy: “I’m New Kid. I work in the Plumbing Department.”

Hot Marketing Girl: “Oh, no kidding. I can’t believe I’ve never seen you there before!”

Wasted Buddy: “Yeah, that’s crazy. I can’t believe you haven’t seen me before either…”

Small talk ensued as Wasted Buddy is quite charming when he’s wasted.

HMG: “So where do you live?”

WB: “In the Sunset Apartment Complex over near Midtown.”

HMG: “Oh my God! That’s where I live!”

WB: “No shit! That’s crazy.”

HMG: “What building do you live in?”

WB: “Building B.”

HMG: “Oh! My! God! I live in Building B! I can’t believe I’ve never seen you before…”

And queue horribly awkward train-wreck scenario for New Kid and Hot Marketing Girl. Fortunately for the New Kid this all occurred unbeknownst to him and he was only made aware of it after the fact. Unfortunately for the New Kid, he just happened to share the shuttle into work with Hot Marketing Girl, who also happens to be his neighbor, the very next fucking Monday! He said he could actually see the wheels turning in her head as she looked at him and recalled seeing him out a few nights before and then coming to the realization that New Kid was not in fact Wasted Buddy and Wasted Buddy was not in fact New Kid. Suffice it to say, that’s the last time he ever spoke to Hot Marketing Girl, even though he never actually spoke to her.

-The time he wore this shitty-ass, ratty-old Red Stripe beer t-shirt to work on casual Friday that looked like something I wouldn’t even use to polish my ass, let alone actually wear to work. The Boss noticed right away and pulled him aside to say that per company policy we were required to still wear collared shirts on casual Fridays. The New Kid was embarrassed and ashamed for his poor outfit choice that day, until he emerged from the Boss’ office to see 6 other people wearing t-shirts, two people wearing ball caps, one pair of flip-flops, and one pair of goddamn house slippers. It would seem that the Boss just didn’t care for Red Stripe. So in a brilliant bit of spiteful irony, the New Kid showed up to the office last Friday to clean out his desk wearing none other than the shitty-ass, ratty-old Red Stripe beer t-shirt. Touche, New Kid… touché.

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I really will miss the kid and truly do feel terrible that he’s been let go. I wish him the best and hope he can become a New Kid somewhere else very soon. If you would please, in memory of the New Kid and all that he meant to me, pour out a little milk from your cereal bowl at your next department meeting.