Thursday, July 17, 2008

My Monica


I work with a girl who has issues. Okay, yes – I have issues, too. I fully accept my issues, but we are not talking about my issues, we are talking about her issues.

She needs a good name… Let’s call her Monica Gellar. (Really the resemblance between her and the Friends character is uncanny – both in looks and in personality. She’s tiny, petite, controlling and uptight.)

So, Monica Gellar is like her alter ego in one big way: she obsesses about very small things, and lets these things get in the way of everything else. Obsessive compulsive? Try Obsessive Crazy. (Remember the episode when Monica turns the game of tossing a ball into a competition and calls into work in order to keep it going? No one? Am I the only person who has seen every episode of Friends ever? Well, it’s like that one, anyway.)

Monica Gellar has more than once been found going through 4 pages of meeting minutes with a red pen for three hours in order to catch every mistake. She nearly had a conniption fit one day because the underlining was printing all wacky on her minutes. “I just don’t want people to think I can’t underline things properly!!” she looked at me with horror. After I suggested she try printing it on another printer, she discovered it was just our wacky printer, and not her wacky computer.

So, every day, I work my tooshie off getting things done left and right. To the effect that nearly every day (with few exceptions) I run out of things to do. Hence the posting in the middle of the day thing. On the other end of the spectrum, Monica Gellar rarely works hard – she just works stupid. Literally, the things she does in an hour, I could get done in five minutes or less. It’s just that she obsesses about the tiniest thing. For instance, I once overheard a phone call that went something like this:

“Hi Mr. Doe, this is Monica Gellar. I was just looking over the stuff for the meeting this afternoon, and I noticed that I had written down that the meeting was at 3:00, but the meeting request you sent out was for 2:45, and the agenda also noted 2:45, and I was told by So-and-So that the meeting is at 2:45. I just wanted to check that it was actually at 2:45, and not at 3:00 like I had written down.”

Any normal person? Would assume that meeting was at 2:45 and move on with life as such. Monica Gellar, however, could NOT have written something down incorrectly. Never. Not in a million. So she takes the time to track down the person and find out that, yes, he had originally wanted it at 3:00, but had changed it to 2:45 for scheduling reasons. So she was right. And that gives her immense pleasure.

I’m pretty sure when she’s not obsessing about things like this, she is working on her school papers, surfing the internet and basically not accomplishing much. Her existence here is negligible 4 out of 5 days of the week. Yet she’s still here. Don’t get me wrong – she can be a lovely person. But the day I heard her scholarship application essay – detailing how the proudest moment in her life involved a cheerleading championship – I decided she was just not my cup of tea.

I mean, come on. Nothing amazing has happened in the 6 years since you were a senior in high school on top of the pyramid? Really? Sad.

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