Working in an office is a lot like being an animal at the zoo. You have all different sorts of species thrown together and no matter how hard you try to escape, maul one another, or steal someone else's fruit pop, in the end, you have to get along. (Otherwise the boss will tranquilize you. Am I mixing metaphors?) I feel that this is particularly the case in our office, where we walk around subject to someone else's whims entirely, never availed with a change of clothes, and slaving away to market prosthetic eye buttons. What we do really doesn't matter (I watch the Office too) - it's just the grist for our mill, not the soul-sucking mill itself. So I'm going to vent. I'll get around to introducing myself eventually, but first I want to bias you against my co-workers so that you're more inclined to like me. That brings us to Gross George.
George, bless his heart, was the inspiration for Boss Bingam's business, for which we all labor. George lost his eye. He says it was "in the war" but I chatted up his drunk his wife once at the holiday party and she whispered, in a conspiratorial tone, that it was really a childhood mishap. A playmate launched a rock at him and, lacking arms, he wasn't able to shield himself. Who would have guessed their game of rock tag really would put an eye out.
I think George has since then been on a crusade to prove that he really does only see half of what's out there. Selective sight is excellent - it allows him to ignore the signs in the kitchen instructing employees to wash their left-overs down the drain, to disregard the stares of his coworkers when he dips his tongue in the coffee pot to test its warmth, or to fail to observe the dried mustard on his tie. It's been there for THREE MONTHS George! Good god.
Today George sneezed vociferously onto his keyboard. He then leaned over, squinted his remaining eye, and examined the bounty. We're lucky to work with such an interesting fellow.