What can brown do for you, you ask?

Although we get really wrapped up in the weirdness that is Special K, we have some other odd characters around here. MACK has been mentioned before. But there's also a rather creepy UPS dude who totally has the hots for our sweet little intern, A. I allowed her to guest blog here about him--partially because she has just been hired on as my assistant. It's only right that we all share the crazy around here.

Well let me first say that it’s an honor to be guest posting here on TheDailyFaxEmailBlog. The cult following is growing.

My story begins as I am diligently working here in Crazyland as the resident gopher (aka intern). You can call me A. M and I work on the bottom floor, the only two employees down here, condemned to work next to the cold and blustery warehouse. We also have the annoying job of having to answer the front and back doors when any visitors ring (of which there is a weird assortment every day), even though there is a buzzer system. For some reason K, and the outsiders sometimes, cannot seem to figure this out because we still have to open the doors while she runs down the stairs (I don’t want to be there the day she falls down them… ouch). The added luxury of having a video surveillance monitor on her desk must be too mind-boggling. Any who, it is on one of these trips that I let in the Usually un-Pleasant Suspect (Mr. UPS) and receive, along with a package, some creepy vibes. It begins with “the look,” accompanied with a smile too eerie for words, and is usually followed by some scheme to find out my name. This time he straight out asked for my FIRST name (I know how deliveries work and its last names you ask for) and hopefully just pretended to punch it into his little scanner machine. Yuck. Then on the way out he playfully asks me if people call me by A___ (nickname), to which I responded with a blank “sometimes.” Double yuck. Just the most recent chapter in my soap opera affair with the UPS guy. Another time, he told me he liked girls with curly hair (guilty as charged). He then proceeded to tell me a long story about… I don’t really know what, I tuned out. But since then, I do not regret waking up an extra hour early to straighten my hair. Maybe if I’m lucky, the next time he comes we’ll have a nickname connection!

I am also the recipient of a brand spanking new 6-month contract here in Crazyland. Thanks for the warning M, S, and L!

Can I just say it's so cute to watch her cringe as he gets all googly-eyed and smiles at her, and Special K flits down the stairs to see who the f*@k she just let in the door?

Hoy es la noche de las galerias

Special K received a message in Spanish, which of course blew her mind. So she put it in the mail folder to circulate around with a handwritten message:

9/19/08
Does anyone know what "this" says? (please translate to English). Special K.

Thank God for parentheses--I was about to waste my time translating "this" into Russian!

Pardon moi, speaky-vous le English?

Special K came down to my office last Friday, walking with that brisk pace that suggests someone is chasing her. With her usual "I'm so sorry to bother you..." she launched into explaining to me that a foreign contact of ours has recently departed his position, and our Director wanted to know his replacement. Since I am the one here who can "speak French," she asked if I could make a call this morning to try to ascertain the name of the replacement.

However, in Special K speech, this went a little more like "Well, I tried calling this number, but it was wrong. And I called this one. It was wrong, too, and they told me I should call this one. But she didn't speak English very well, and it was hard to understand. And I wrote down this number. But don't call that one, or that one. Call that one. The one I drew an arrow to. Not the one that is crossed out. Oh, and that's France, that's why I asked if you could speak French. So that's a country code. Don't ask me! I don't ask any questions. But if you could call, that would be wonderful. And this is what you should ask. But call with this number. Not this one. Thanks. Sorry to bother you. Sorry. Sorry. Thanks."

I called the number this morning, and I attempted to see if I could get the receptionist to speak English, but ended up having to use my rusty French to carry out the conversation. I can't stop laughing thinking about Special K trying to have the same conversation outlined above with someone who doesn't even speak English. And people wonder why Americans have the reputations they do...