But, the chicks aren’t free.
Last week, I told you how my idiotic coworker, Goonan, took me down in a half nelson hug in the half pipe. The gash on my foot has healed, but there is a scar. I ignored his apology e-mails and when I returned to the office, I told him that if he touches me again, there will be a half pint of his blood in the half pipe.
I work for my parents in a very small office. My stepfather is an insurance agent and I do customer service along with general office work and marketing campaigns, although most of my time in the office is spent cleaning up Goonan’s screw ups in sales. I really think my parents keep him around for amusement purposes, because it’s not like he does anything productive. Previously, I've referred to him as "the human leprechaun" but in reality he is more like the f*** up fairy.
Once my dad even fired him, but he started to cry and refused to leave. Seriously. I offered to grab him by the back of the neck and kick his butt out the door, but my parents wouldn’t let me. They are far too nice.
Now, Goonan has decided he needs a raise because not only is his wife a diva, so is his five year old daughter. He’s in dire straits because his “chicks” are costing him a fortune. He’ll “settle” for $20,000 more a year ...or... Or what? I imagine his pause reflected some sort of dangling threat of quitting. One can only hope.
Instead of just asking for a raise, like normal people do, Goonan e-mailed his request to my dad who was sitting at a desk across from him. The reasons were nothing short of ridiculous including that he believed that he would be making $100,000 a year or else he would have taken the job he was offered at Costco. Costco for $100K a year? I wish he had. I wouldn’t have this scar on my foot.
This might be a good time to mention that Goonan has been forbidden to use the company e-mail since he accidentally sent an ignorant message to 4,000 company employees in California, upsetting so many people so badly that our regional manager flew home from his vacation to fix the situation. He continues to e-mail anyway.
For some reason, Goonan believes that my previous co-worker, whom he replaced, was making that much money. I doubt it, but that guy could sell an air conditioner to an eskimo. If he was, it was in commissions.
Goonan ended his e-mail with the question “WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO AROUND HERE TO MAKE MORE MONEY?” in huge capital letters.
Oh, gee, let me think. Work, maybe? How about selling something? Goonan once bragged to one of our clients that he was so good at sales, he could sell a parka to an eskimo. Idiot.
So, just to screw with him a little (ok, maybe my parents aren’t THAT nice), my dad told him he would think about the raise if Goonan could think of a way to drum up more business. My dad's not actually going to give him a raise, but, you know, we’re curious to see what the parka salesman could come up with and Goonan started banging on those bongos like a chimpanzee.
After brainstorming ALL weekend, Goonan's fabulous idea is that he wants my dad to buy him 12 boxes of donuts every Tuesday and Thursday and he will stand out in the street and lure in potential clients with these irresistable pastries.
I doubt Goonan will have a chance to hit the pavement, but I almost fell on the floor laughing. That ain’t working and I’m pretty sure that’s not the way you do it.
Sigh. It was funny, but working with him is getting increasingly irritating. I should have played the guitar on the MTV.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
But, the chicks aren’t free.