The Beebs Is Messing with Me

Perhaps it’s the wine.  Perhaps its the fact I’ve literally just finished work for the day (that’s a long damn day y’all).  However, I had to let you know that I have dubbed my first new office person:  Beebs.  And I’m relatively sure he enjoys messing with me.

Here’s why.

Strike 1:

I work in a place where you are more likely to hear Vanessa Mae’s “Storm” rather than anything Top 40.  Mind you, I drive in about an hour to work, so I bee-bop to the radio.  I come in and I’m getting my coffee, bopping to the beat….that’s when I realize I’m bopping to Justin Bieber’s “Boyfriend”. I pause mid pour into my mug and realize that yes.  Justin Bieber really is blaring through our music system.  I also realize, much to my chagrin, that I apparently like this song…but I digress.

Turns out?  Our cleaning guy, AKA Beebs, left on the top 40 station.   I had two people comment, but after a quick change, we were all ok. I thought.

The whole rest of the day was plagued with foul-mooded people, and I fully blame Beebs for starting off our days.  Perhaps Bieber reminds people of a forgotten youth.  Perhaps he reminds people of the grandkids they miss.  Perhaps his hair just pisses them off.  I don’t know…but what I do know is Bieber is a bad omen in my work day.

Strike 2:

I have been at my office for a whole month, and I have yet to get a new trash can liner.  My liner is stained with ketchup, coffee and what looks like dirt but I’m sure is printer ink.  When the liner developed a rip, I thought I’d get another one.  No.  Beebs just tied a knot around the rip and stretched it over the can tighter.  Way to go Beebs.  Way to go.  I think he knows I want a new bag and is messing with me.  Lord your power of the bags over me.  Beebs of the Bags.

Strike 3:

Now I know why I don’t have a new liner.  I worked until around 10 one night.  I walk into the offices and I see Beebs, feet up on the desk, talking on the phone.  Rather than scurry with a flourish that OH I’ve been caught!, Beebs gives me a head nod and says Hey.  Then, he keeps talking.  Well played Beebs.  Act like it doesn’t matter.  Maybe you’ll convince me it’s ok that you use our phone lines and neglect our trash bags.  You almost had me- but I’m on to you.

Strike 4:

My next post:  Something foul in the state of my office.   I have no proof, but I have my brain’s conclusions, which are good enough for me.

 

It’s late and I must rest, but I am really sure that Beebs is messing with me.  I’ll keep you posted.

 

Night night,

Me

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6 Comments

  1. Pingback: Bless the Mess « A Kiss Of Bliss

  2. Pingback: Like Charlie Sheen Attracts Strippers and Coke « Stuff I Can't Put On Facebook's Blog

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