Thursday, March 13, 2008

Reason #238: Why I Love My Job

Delbert is a doofus. Not a bad guy, just a doofus. He has some minor developmental disabilities, and, bless his heart, he tries. But he's just a follower, a minon, a boot-licker. He recently lost his job as a dishwasher on the grave-yard shift at the all-night pancake house because he developed an allergy to soap. I'm guessing he's also developed an allergy to toothpaste, as that would explain the current lack of dental hygiene.

Delbert is a talker. He loves explanations. He thrives on the sound of his own voice and the exhaustive detail that he can impart regarding even the most insignificant of activities. He's also very inclusive and willing to tell anyone and everyone all about his daily affairs. This is why the ladies in the front/back office send me evil vibes on the days he reports.

Thankfully, Delbert has only two months left on probation. If, by some act of cruel fate, he is unable to finish paying off his fine, I'll pay it myself just to get him the hell out of here. I know a couple of staff members who would no doubt be willing to go halves with me on it.

Today, I suffered through a long-winded explanation of why he overslept on Tuesday and missed his appointment. I'll spare you the details. Then he asked for a travel permit to go to Cool City on Saturday. I didn't ask why. I didn't want to know. I just gave him the permission and stood up to try to usher him out the door.

"Ok. Have a good time. Stay out of trouble. See you next month," I said, reaching out for the doorknob.

"I have to go to Cool City because my sister is in a beauty pageant."

At that point, my hand frozen in mid-air just above the doorknob, I wanted to shoot myself. There was no way this was going to end well. I knew I needed to open the door and shoo him out and go on with my day.

Instead I just sort of stared at him, open-mouthed. I didn't say a word.

"...and she needs a dance partner."

Inside my head, I was being all self-congratulatory for maintaining my stoicism and constraint. Even though I was standing there like a slack-jawed idiot, I had managed to refrain from both speaking and giving in to a fit of uncontrollable laughter. I again reached for the doorknob, knowing that I had to get him out of my office before he continued his story and completely razed my self-control.

"I'm really good at break dancing."


This was when my tongue started to bleed.

"And I do a lot of country dancing, like two-step and stuff. I'm not too good at country wine dancing, but I do that sometimes, too."

My vision began to blur and I was afraid I was going to pass out from choking on the laughter caught in my throat.

"But it's too bad my sister doesn't want to do any of that. She can't make up her mind if she's going to do the tango or the cha-cha. Have you heard of those?"

Mute nod.


"Well, I have 'till Saturday. I can probably find a class and learn them right quick."

"Uh... well..."

"Usually my dad would be her partner. But he can't do it this time 'cause he just had surgery and he still has this open wound on his leg and they won't stitch it up 'cause the boil can't heal if they close it and..."

"GOOD-BYE, Delbert!"

Just two more months...two more months...