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In high school, I worked my first job at KFC. Through the luck of life, I ended up working with one of the first boys I fist-fought a few years earlier in junior high. Somehow, working for Colonel Sanders made us friends. Since then, I’ve also worked jobs with ex-girlfriends, ex-boyfriends of current girlfriends, racists, incompetents, meth heads, idiots and jerks of all sorts. However, this column isn’t about spending 40 hours a week with the likes of them.

This is about a guy I work with right now. He’s probably the most annoying guy I’ve ever worked with in my 20 years of employment. I’ve been paired with annoying coworkers from newspapers to bars to mowing lawns to swimming pools to universities to construction sites, but he’s consistently the biggest bee in my bonnet.

First off, I work in a boring, old office. Baby Boomer Boob (BBB) and I started on the exact same day, but because he’s a few decades older, he tries to show off how much more important he is than me.

Here’s how his daily routine goes: He shows up late, makes terrible jokes about the weather in an awful fake accent and then leaves for a while to do the most important thing of his day, which is to go get coffee. BBB’s life revolves around coffee. I like the coffee shop too, but I don’t make other people cover for my shift while I hang out there.

BBB spends a lot of time reheating his coffee in the microwave, and since he drinks so much, he needs to pee constantly. Which means I’m here covering his bullshit work even more.

But that’s not even close to the end.

He’s the type of guy who will talk to you endlessly about his fantasy football team, even though I’d rather listen to ice picks pop my eardrums. He reminds you to capitalize names in email addresses. That hasn’t mattered, um, ever. Right?

BBB’s always ripping silent-but-deadly farts. He sits behind me and is a loud talker, hummer, mouth breather, singer and whistler. I hear (and sometimes feel) this wind going past the back of my neck. Even more bothersome and gross is when he clips his nails at his desk. I thought only the most hated character in the office/apartment/prison on stupid TV shows did this. Surely, this couldn’t happen in real life. Are people really trashy enough to do this? Yes.

How irritating am I in the workforce? I don’t know. I know my attention span and temper both pop off pretty quick-like. I’m sure my editor, old bosses and coworkers can tell you my foibles. But I know people don’t necessarily need to be heard and seen all the time. I want to make my living as a writer but not as somebody who constantly needs people to notice him.

Read more Freeman: Stalk him:

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