So, I walk down to eat lunch today, and they’re doing another United Way drive at work. It seems like every time I look up, they’re pushing another fantastic United Way cause at us at work. Today, it was draw chalk drawings on the sidewalk to show your United way spirit.

Fuck.

So, I got my pre-packaged tuna sandwich and my milk, as I do every day, and headed down to eat with the other geeks. Within 3 seconds of sitting down, an old bearded guy in a wheelchair rolls over next to my chair and begins his pitch, “Hey fellas, we’re doing a great thing for United Way today. You think the three of you could get together and draw a heart or ‘peace’ or ‘love’ on the sidewalk to show your United way spirit?”

We all sat there staring at each other as if he was asking us to saddle up and ride each other around the courtyard. I could see shoulders start slumping as the “how the fuck are we going to get out of this one” glances started. It was like watching 3 people simultaneously try to hang up on a telemarketer.

I didn’t want to pussy-foot around, but I didn’t want to come off like an asshole so I just told him, “No, thanks.” Then wheelchair man started in with the wheedling and the “it’s for a good cause” speech. I tried the “I’m not really an artist” tack, which failed miserably, as drawing hearts takes minimal artistic talent. One of my co-workers simply gave him the “I’ll think about it” brush.

And wheelchair man busted into, “Oh I know what that means. It means ‘No fuckin’ way! Doesn’t it? DOESN’T IT.”

Smiling, I simply stated, “Yup, I think that’s what he means.” By then, wheelchair man was getting as hostile as I could imagine Santa getting were he in a wheelchair. He wasn’t spitting at you hostile, but more like crossing you off the list aggitated. It was like he had never heard an O preceded by an N before. He began to roll off and then rolled back visibly flustered.

“Why? I just want to know WHY?”
“I just don’t usually give to the United Way.”
“You just don’t give to the United Way, huh?”
“No, I don’t.”

See, another thing is, is I am stubborn as a mule. You want me to dance for your benefit? Fuck you. You want to make me? Double fuck you. Oh it’s going to benefit me, and I just want to sit here and eat my sandwich? Keep asking. It’s a triple fat fuck you.

When he was well into the octuple fuck you range, a couple more of my co-workers sat down looking rather surprised when he started in on them. One even tried to reverse direction and leave before he fully sat down.

“Hey fellas how about doing a drawing for the united way? Don’t be like this [jerk? Something like that, I forget.] here.” He was peppering the speech with f bombs, and he was poking me.

Ever been poked by a guy in a wheelchair? It’s an emotional hodge-podge. All I could think was “Hey. FUCKHEAD. I come to work every day to do a job which involves keeping 16,000 machines virus free. Most days I emerge from the basement and sit here eating a tuna fucking sandwich and drinking some fucking milk. And I talk to a bunch of geeks about geeky topics. Nowhere in my job description does it say that for the one fucking hour that I spend away from a series of monitors and panics, I have to draw fucking hearts on the sidewalk for no other benefit than to make you feel like your helping a worthy cause. The people that you’re looking for are way shorter and are playing kick ball up the road. Now, I’m really sorry that you’re in a wheelchair, but FUCK OFF.”

And how the fuck does drawing on the sidewalk help the United Way, anyway? I may have majored in finance and minored in economics, but I can’t seem to remember if ‘chalk drawings’ is part of M1, M2, or M3. But then, the United Way has never been one for accounting.

Posted in Anger, Work