Update #2: Okay, fine. Turns out my husband hates this post too, but not because of content like my mother, but because of my excessive potty mouth. "If it was just you reading it, then it would be okay, but..." he said about three minutes ago. So I've edited out the cursing--thank you, online thesaurus--but I've put the edited parts in bold italics because apparently that's my only avenue of rebellion at this point. Also: That was REALLY fun. I need to edit my work more often...
Last weekend--if I may be so bold as to start off topic instead of simply veering off later--we were in the greater Kelso/Longview area for a little memorial celebration for my grandma (she died on my birthday five years ago. Also: I miss her)--that's another post for another time--and we were all chillaxin' on Gram's back porch--which is now Seth's back porch--when my Aunt Ann says, hey, how's Cranky Steve these days?
Ann, have I got a story for you.
I've written many times about Steve and his antics (like here, here and here, should you feel like going down memory lane), but I've never actually been the direct recipient of his unpredictable ire. Usually I'm just the one watching him freak out with my mouth hanging open. We've got kind of a dual personality going on here with that guy. He can be so fun and happy, but he can also be such a private investigator. Often in the very same day.
So anyway. Monday afternoon (the 22nd in case you need details), Joe the Publisher mentions to Chris the Office Manger that the guys are going to be working on the front office that evening--Steve's office is turning into the company's magazine headquarters, and he's moving into essentially what is now a hallway, except hey, he's getting a window and it won't be a hallway when it's his office, right?, so win, really. But this does mean that part of our front area is being encroached upon. Joe is into getting rid of unnecessary, unused items, and Chris is big on using space efficiently. But Joe had a meeting, so it was Chris who had to do the dirty work.
I felt kind of bad for her because she was trying to get Steve to make some decisions and he was just being like urine. Dude, we get it, you don't want to move, gird your loins already. I volunteered to take a partial box of printed envelopes that we no longer use to the recycling bin in the print shop, and then when I came back from what felt like kind of an ordeal because they're remodeling back there, too, and nothing is ever where you think it would be, Chris had these dusty subscription cards that I had never even seen before in my 2.5 years at the office and was wondering if we needed to keep them or not.
Well, they're subscription cards, and we have a subscription manager, right? I don't know, it made sense at the time.
So I go in with a partial stack of these things and ask Steve what he'd like to do with them, but instead of answering my question he tells me--in a voice that implies I am a complete idiot--that he uses them "sometimes" and has a box. Okay, fine then. I have an empty box by my desk--we usually take these to the print shop so they can reuse them, but since the print shop is in shambles I've just kind of been holding onto it for lack of a better idea--so I grab the box, stuff my cards neatly inside, have Chris put the rest in there, and take it to Steve.
This is the fun part of the story, just FYI.
I'm not even in the door yet and Steve is swearing under his breath. "Good Shepherd! King of Kings! Prince of Peace!" he keeps chanting, and I say, in that voice I reserve for newborns and cranky coworkers, "I know, Steve, I know," and I put the box on his desk, on top of some papers (because his desk is always overflowing with papers) that are shoved to the side in one messy pile.
He grabs the box, shouts, "Poopies!" and then throws the box against the shelves to the back of his desk. The top flies off, of course, and cards spill out everywhere. "HOW'S THAT FOR A PLACE?" he yells, but by that time I'm turning on my heel and I just say, "Perfect," kind of over my shoulder, in a very strong (hopefully sarcastic) voice that I was proud of, the gluteus maximus, and walk the Hades out of there.
"Well, that went well," I said to Stacey, and then I sat down at my desk for a minute reliving the situation, trying to see if there was something else I could have done, but then I just concluded that Cranky Steve is now Jerky Steve and you know what? I think that would have happened regardless. If not at that particular moment with me, then like five minutes later. Ticking time bomb and all that.
Later, like maybe a half hour or something, I'm helping this guy at the front desk place a classified ad, when up comes Jerky Steve, all calm and joking, because apparently he knew this guy. I didn't even look at him, and eventually he went back to his office and then must have left the building because I didn't see him again after that.
I wasn't really sure what to expect on Tuesday, but for the most part Jerky Steve just ignored me. I was cool with that. I mean, not that I felt physically threatened by him or anything--I grew up with someone who had outbursts like this (I have two brothers and it's not Tim. Do the math), so I get it, but wow, that doesn't mean I understand.
He left not long after I got in, and I told Stacey and Deb in Reception (not to be confused with Deb in Sales) that he had come unglued with me the day before, and they were all, he's stressed about because his office is being moved to a hallway, it's not you, it's the situation.
Speaking of King of Kings, apparently it's perfectly acceptable for Jerky Steve to lose his feculence at me because it's not really AT me but around me. Am I on Candid Camera? I was like, interesting theory, but I'm not real pleased with him at the moment. I'm not sure what upsets me more: The fact that Steve went number two crazy at me, or the fact that it's considered "normal" and even "okay" that he does that. Because this is not the first time, and it will certainly not be the last.
Eventually Jerky Steve did come back to the office, and he was shuffling around all sigh-y in his stupid Berks and toe rings, and I was like, hey Stevie, what's up? And he was like, hey, Trish, and that was it for the rest of the day. Awkward.
Wednesday: Jerky Steve was falling over himself plying me with compliments and is downgraded to Cranky Steve again.
Thursday: Cranky Steve is tipsy because he has to walk 15 steps to get to the cabinet where the paper is kept, and if people want to make it hard for him to print off his reports he'll just go home.
Friday: Cranky Steve feels that it is too hot outside and wants to go take a nap. Also, everyone in town is stupid.
I don't know, people. I just don't get it. But it was a long week.