I almost take it as a personal insult when she strolls into the office ten minutes late (as usual) wearing jeans and a shitty looking t-shirt. Seriously, she works in an office. She's over 30. Yet she still hasn't figured out what is 'office appropriate' clothing?
Then there's the thongs on casual Friday. Casual Friday is the only day when it is actually acceptable to wear jeans. You wear your jeans with a decent top (usually a polo with the company's logo on it) and enclosed shoes. New Girl, however, downgrades her normal 'trashy' weekday outfit by adding a pair of thongs. Wallah! Casual Friday outfit sorted.
On days when she does wear proper shoes, new girl takes them off at her desk and warns us about the smell. Charming.
New girl tries to initiate conversation with co-workers all day. You can hear is her annoying voice mumbling away to someone who's willing to give her 5 minutes of attention, followed by a forced laugh that sucks a little bit of life out of me every time I hear it.
New girl dawdles around like as if she's got nothing to do. She does a little bit of work, prints something off, then slowly, sloooooooowly strolls to the photocopier. No sense of urgency. Must not hurry, she could lose a thong.
New girl NEVER, EVER puts stuff in my in-tray (YES I AM A HORRIBLE, PEDANTIC PERSON). There is a big tray on my desk. I made a sign for it. It says IN-TRAY. If I ask her to do anything it always ends up on my keyboard, on my desk, on my chair...or she disrupts me from the job I am in the middle of (and charging a client out by the frigging minute for) by murmuring 'here you go' and reaching it out to me. I stop what I am doing, turn around, get the frigging bit of paper, and throw it in my frigging in-tray. Right...back to what I was doing.
Yes yes, I'm a cunt.
The fact that she mutters and mummers fucking annoys me too. Shit, seriously...speak up bitch. Either decide you're going to say something or decide you're not going to say it. You can't 'half' say it. And it's not that she's shy. She can tell you anything (and everything) via email or text. Although you may not be able to decipher it... it's in typical 12 yr old internet-wanker speak, with spelling mistakes and no capitalisation.
She calls me babe. Fuck I hate that.
I'm hoping with age comes more tolerance and blissful indifference. Her dumbness, slowness, mumbling, bad dress sense, stinky feet and maturity of a 12 year old really shouldn't concern me. Being shoved in an office with someone you can't stand for eight hours a day really brings out the worst in you.
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