Sunday, July 13, 2014

The GB Diaries: Tales from the Dip: Day 7

Bath time for GB, stinky boy!  Why do you smell like you shat on your hands?
  GB came in quite late (near exactly top of the hour).  Most jobs would fire you in an instant, but I guess he's kept as a sort of an experiment.  Even his changeover was getting antsy.  GB shows up in a huff and he immediately and unusually went to the alcohol-based hand-sanitizer and seemingly gave himself a bath!  He ignored us and bee-lined right to the Purell.  He started with his hands and used most of the alcohol-rich container, wiping his arms, face, breast, chest, and neck.  At first, I thought cleaning one's hands immediately after arriving without even sitting down or taking-in a changeover briefing was unusual.  This ablution was apparently paramount!  Zenith importance!  I can only wonder why.  I suspect he neglected to shower that morning, as is custom from what his old counterpart, GG, who'd carpool with him explained.  He often woke up woefully late.  It seems he neglected Life again here.
  GG would carpool with GB in GG's Mercedes.  GB would demand they stop at McDonald's to GG's horror, as it's a rather clean car.  GB would then order a non-menu item, a ham & cheese biscuit.  McDonald's really doesn't have that item and we all know that if you order off-menu things get sticky real fast.  GB also can barely speak English because he's from Alabama and is apparently 11 tenths mongoloid.  GG explained most of the time they didn't understand GB and they'd have to go inside where GB would throw a fit and sometimes get what he wanted, though most of the time not.  It's amusing to think that GG wouldn't order the item for him as he was more eloquent though with a thick Pilipino accent would have made some sort of sense.  If McDonald's denied him, they'd rush over to 7-11 where GB would buy every "taquito" they had on the roller.  I can just imagine two eyes and fingers barely reaching up to look at the rolling taquitos (as GB is 4 foot negative 4). 
Not sure why GB doesn't die of scurvy.
  GB would gobble 6 or 23 in GG's Mercedes and a Omni Big Gulp soda that would splash around like a watersports porn video.  GB would then eat the other 98 of them at work, along with what meager breakfast his wife made for him (as he's on a diet) and then order from the chow hall as well, and in-between an entire box of candy-bars.  This is no exaggeration.  He buys from the snack fund an entire 36 candy-bars, offers a few to the crew on-duty, which decline as it's usually around 6am, and then he eats the box's worth but hides the fact he's doing it, waiting strategically for someone to not see him do it.  Sometimes he walks into another room, pockets filled with candy, returning with wrappers he carefully discards in the trash.  Apparently he explained earlier-on when his wife's in the shower he'll run off to 7-11 (not taking the car as the engine heat would arise suspicion) and buy dozens and hide them, giving some to his 4 year old son, telling him, "You know what to do, son!"  The boy knows and runs with a fistful of candy-bars and eats them shirtless in a closet in the dark.  He's teaching his son to do this.  Both should be put to sleep now.  Seriously. 
  He also mentioned he gets sick because his son catches the flu from daycare understandably, but that his son climbs his leg, up his back, and licks his neck.  What the?  Yep.  In normal practice, it's a right-of-passage for a son to climb up a standing father and lick his neck.  A ballad in C-minor with a bluegrass feel:
Come-on, son, just lick that neck! 
Heck of a neck, don't miss a speck! 
Come-on, son, don't give a heck,
 Jus' rise on up and lick that neck! 
Put down that dumb old playing card deck,
Jus' come-on, son and lick that neck! 
Heck of a neck!  Don't miss a speck! 
Don't jump off and try to eject,
just climb-on up and lick that neck! 
Neck a neck a neck a neck!
Lick a neck a neck a heck!
Just like a chick that might go peck
Or a tired ol' dog that's a living wreck,
Jus' come-up son and lick that neck! 
Don't say "yeck" just lick that neck! 
Lick that, lick that, good ol' NECK!
Yeah.  That's my life, kids.  Yep.
  Today was Clappy Hands day it seems.  Today, he clapped his hands continuously for over 30 seconds repeatedly.  By saying "repeatedly" I mean to explain that these very loud, 30-second bouts happened over 38 times today.  The clapping was usually quite disturbing against the quiet of the room, frightening everyone with the unexpected and unwarranted unnecessary suddenness of it.  A slow, loud clapping, just out of nowhere.  I asked him why he was applauding himself, that he didn't do anything successful.  This seemed to bother him and he mumbled angrily to himself, though the noted observation did not prevent him from continuing all day.
  It must be said, if it hasn't before, that he sleeps quite a bit for 30 minute stretches.  It's rather peaceful during that time.  He's not exploding like a Chinese firecracker factory, and files are safe from his unending moving and tarring for no reason but his own sense of computer justice, though some snoring he accomplishes is equally as loud as when he's awake and just "breathing".
  I hide in the corner now.  I don't bother with attempting to answer the phone as he just bounds over me like an ape and answers it out of my hands or pushes me aside to get to the console I'm at.  I notice he never has any monitoring screens up so he has zero situational awareness.  Often, he'll tilt his head like a dog to some alarm on the main screen, then delete it.  He has no idea what he's doing.  People ask why I'm in the corner, I explain if I put my back to the wall, GB doesn't need to bound through me and past me to get something right behind me, and I'm safe.  Still, GB will rush over to right next to me to get or do something, often to simply stop, look at the wall, nod, then about-face and run back to his seat.  There's no escaping his Tourette's-based nervousness like some Brazilian Steakhouse server with skewers of death.   He'll often try to sit in a seat but his head will "twitch" and sometimes he'll shake it like a dog all cartoon-like, though nothing's happened, though he acts as if he's recovering from a cartoon mallet-strike.
GB at rest is distracting.
  It is also of note that he'll open-mouth cough on the computer screen, throwing chunks of food and chew-tobacco (an illegal substance indoors if used on this base) in a "hack" spat.  No effort is made to stop his incessant eating-cough.  He's always eating candy bars or crackers or something.  He peeled an apple's skin with his toenail-knife today.  Filthy and vile.  Toe apple scum?  What a treat son!  What a treat!

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