Velouria (velouria) wrote,

Sorry Not Sorry

This afternoon whilst gathering my belongings to leave 13 minutes early as I normally do, my sandal snapped and became completely unwearable. I had to wait 13 minutes and walk barefoot past my boss, because the office creepy guy was loitering in the only other aisle I could have taken.

Reeking of the mouthwash he keeps in his cubicle for either drinking purposes or the covering up of drinking purposes, Creepy Guy will wait for Jesus Guy to get up and scan something before creeping into my cubicle and whispering, "You look real fine today." I fantasize about telling him to fuck off and die, but instead ignore him completely. I don't know why, but I can't bring myself to confront him. I would have no guilt if he went home and shot himself in the face. I wish he would.

I can't walk outside without having to pass his stupid ass blowing cigarette smoke and commenting on the prettiness of my outfit or the flower in my hair or my lipstick or something else pertaining to my appearance. He will stop in the aisles and leer at me and anything else with a vagina, despite death glares and probably threats.

Googling his name in hopes of finding him on Megan's Law lead me to some afterschool program he heads. Oh, shocking. An afterschool program run by a complete pervert.

Also not shockingly, this miscreant is a mailroom employee. They moved certain mailroom employees from the downtown MAILROOM to our office, presumably because of complaints. What good is a mailroom for perverts when you move the perverts to an office? Fuck's sake.

I am not the only lady he targets, in case you thought he was some kind of gothic chubbychaser or something. A quick poll of section ladies revealed he has leered at and provided a running commentary on the looks of all of them.

Each day I tell myself it will be the day I tell him to kill himself. And not in a nice way either, no going towards the light horseshit. I want Hitler to be shoving a pineapple up his ass in hell.

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