Now normally, the many places I've worked at houses a pretty decent bunch of people, but it's not without it's 'regulars' and I've learnt to spot those a mile away.
Primarily the cast of characters would include:
Most of the chaps in this lot are good 'uns, but occasionally you come across the odd exception who takes this description to heart. He's a throwback to the good 'ol days of the Raj where it was perfectly acceptable to flog the subordinate for even having the balls to ask 'why'. Nevermind the fact that the reason you've asked the question is because the man has just asked you to bop him on the head with a sledgehammer.
AKA the snivelling sycophant SS. Specimen will always be found not far from 'the Boss' (TB). When TB barks, 'Jump', SS will respond, 'yes sir! How high sir! And would you like me to do a pirouette while I’m at it sir!' Best not to voice options around said specimen, unless you’d like to have it repeated verbatim to TB.
The Ladies Man:
Disclaimer: the above mentioned term in no way describes the author’s opinion of the individual. It is the individual’s own warped opinion of himself, arising out of years of bad eyesight and massive ego, both left unchecked.
The Barbie Du-uhl:
Used to getting her way just by batting her eyelids, it comes as a shock to these individuals that one has to actually *gasp* work to earn a salary. Undeterred, however, they still try and bat eyelids at the first possible moment to get others to do their work. This works wonderfully well in the short term, but eventually, as queue of ardent admirers dries up, the Barbies hatch plots to bat enough eyelids at a loaded suckers, to get them to marry – to love, cherish and obey until the credit crunch do us part.
The Office Clown:
A throw back to the school prankster who still thinks fart bags are hysterically funny, this individual needs to be avoided like the plague, unless you like having pie on your face just before an important client meet. Usually, one would give in to the strong urge to punch a hole through this chap’s skull with one’s stilettos, but most specimens are blessed with a blooming heart of gold. This is probably also one of the reasons this person has survived this long without any major reconstructive surgery required.
The Drama- Queen:
Not to be fooled by the title, this specimen comes in both the male and female varieties. Life around these chaps is anything but dull, and quite often an epidemic of migranes follows in their wake. Everything from a simple meeting with a vendor to traveling by train turns into an Event – to be described in great detail, to a largest possible audience to milk the last drop of sympathy. Quite often the best way to avoid the DKs taking over your life, when greeted with ‘You’ll never believe what just…’ is to quickly counter it with ‘NO! You poor thing!’ Trust me. It’s ALWAYS the right answer.
This class has two sub-species – the communist and the dictator.
The communist variety is happy not doing work, and more than happy if you join him in his state of happiness by not working either. As long as no one’s rocking the boat by talking dangerously about ‘performance’ and ‘productivity’, he’s a content chap. The dictator on the other hand is a far more treacherous sub species. In order to continue his state of non-work, it is imperative that someone else, i.e., YOU take over all his work. Don’t worry about the boss finding out. He’ll never know, coz the Shirker, sub-class: Dictator’s right there to take the credit…
This is the most annoying of the lot, coz the lady’s near perfect. I’m sure that a male of this species exists somewhere, but I have yet to encounter them. This is the kind of woman who will be in office on the dot at half nine after preparing a 4 course breakfast for hubby and kids, dropping the kids (who’re all mini Da Vincis in the making) off to school and still looking like she’s stepped out of a magazine cover. The mother-in-law adores her, and the boss thinks the sun shines out of her… oh, nevermind.
Over the weekends, after treating the family to a six-course gourmet dinner prepared from scratch, and throwing the dinner party of the century, ensuring that the house can be photographed in the annual issue of the ‘House and Garden’, she’ll still have time to spend some ‘quality time’ with the hubby while the kids obediently hit the sack at 7 pm.
I have a sneaking suspicion they have a clone hidden somewhere in the garage which they conveniently fish out while they’re actually putting their feet up and stuffing their face with chocolate and reading a chick flick like the rest of us. (Or so one can hope, so that our battered self esteem can finally shout a feeble ‘Yay!’)
There are some other regulars, which I haven’t mentioned (like the best friend in office, sympathetic co-worker, super efficient office boy/ secretary, benevolent boss, fun group of singles, the office hunk/ hottie…) but life in office wouldn’t be the same without these amazing group of people, who’re just nice enough to not be mentioned in this post.