Wednesday, December 23, 2009
The Custodian Chronicles continue
As I've mentioned before, we've had a hard time with custodians at work. When you pay someone minimum wage to clean toilets and mop floors, you tend to attract people who are ... how do I word this?... addicted to crack.

Following the firings of the aforementioned 3-D Teef and Ghetto Smurf, we were lucky enough to find someone who actually did an acceptable job. His name was Ricky and he liked NASCAR (naturally), so we called him Ricky Bobby. Not our best nickname effort, but we didn't hate this guy. He kind of kept to himself and unlike all other custodians before or since, didn't bring further shame to our place of employment by his very presence.

Unfortunately for us, Ricky Bobby found a better job. He drives a garbage truck now. And really, I'm not making fun of his current occupation. The guy is making more money than I make; and at least the garbage he has to deal with isn't of the human variety. I wouldn't take his job, but mainly because of the temptation of using a sanitation vehicle as a lethal weapon. "Yeah, cut in front of me, motherfucker."

Ricky Bobby was replaced by a lady we "affectionately" called WTBS. WTBS did not reference the Superstation out of Atlanta, but stood for White Trash Barbara Streisand. Why? Because she looked like Barbara Streisand but lived in a trailer with her many children and common-law husband. Unbeknownst to management, WTBS was pregnant YET AGAIN when they hired her, and eventually her condition prevented her from doing much of anything janitor-related.

Why do some people have kids like it's a competition? I wanted to say to her, "You know, the pill will help with that complexion of yours, too" but I was kind of afraid she'd shank me.

All of the past losers pale in comparison to our latest human resources abortion. Her name is Mary Beth, but I like to call her Methy Beth. Because she's an obvious Meth addict? Yes.

Methy Beth, unlike our semi-beloved Ricky Bobby, does not keep to herself. Methy Beth likes to tell us what she just cleaned and how dirty it was before she cleaned it. Repeatedly. "Oh, really? You cleaned the break room and there was spaghetti sauce all inside the microwave? Well, that's great but IT'S THE HOLIDAY SEASON AND I'M DICK-DEEP IN NEEDY CUSTOMERS, YOU CRANK-ADDLED TOOTHLESS WONDER! DO US ALL A FAVOR: GO TO THE LADIES ROOM AND BLOW YOUR BRAINS OUT! AND THEN CLEAN IT UP!!!" I don't say that to her, but I really really want to.

Yesterday she actually said to me, "Why is it so busy tonight? Tuesdays ain't usually this busy."

My response: "Maybe because it's the Tuesday before Christmas?"

Jesus, can we hire someone who knows what fucking month she's living in???


If I had a Christmas wish, it would be for you to get the hell out of that place. Methy Beth! Hilarious.

Blogger Ćœbermilf said...

Before he leaves, he needs to write it all down in book form. Because it's HILARIOUS.

Blogger Dr. Monkey said...

Hire the handicapped, they're fun to watch.

Blogger Dale said...

Clearly Jesus is not a good fit in the H.R. department!

Blogger Ms Smack said...

hahahahaha I feel your pain but damn, this was a funny post.

Blogger Monkey said...

You know, you need to write a book. You really do.

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