Jerry: Security Guard

on the days i find jerry asleep in his swivel chair with messy hair and an open mouth i am so excited that i won't have to talk to him about sports and the price of chucks that i legitimately do not care that he's not doing his job as a guard.

at first, i thought, "he's just a very lonely old man and he needs some company." and during that time, i wholeheartedly enjoyed carrying on conversation with that corpse of a man. he struck me as a sort of george carlin character-- not afraid to call someone a dumb fuck for messing up on a simple task.

but it wasn't long before his stories started repeating and i found that he imagined all but five people to be dumb fucks. every day consists of him telling me which politician, sports star or coworker is a dumb fuck and no matter how many times i've expressed i have no interest in hearing it, he'll repeat it all again the next day-- verbatim.

certain days i'll come down the elevator only to find him standing at his post, breathing through his nose and whispering, "we've got to stop meeting this way."

this is where we both work, as much as i despise seeing you, it's not going to stop happening.

nowadays, i try my best to seem like i'm in the middle of a very important phone conversation as i pass him and i'm sure he knows i'm faking it because i've just come out of an elevator with horrible reception but i simply don't care.

i've literally left messages on friends' voicemails simply to look like i'm in a conversation with someone.

the other day, i was tucking in my shirt when jerry grabbed my arm, pulled me in, and said, "i want you to know you're doing great and eating healthy."

i'm all for random acts of kindness, but the man must've been hiding in a cubicle somewhere because i didn't even see him until he had me locked in that uninvited intimate moment.

let me elaborate here and perhaps you will understand my problem with this awkward act.

i was tucking in my shirt. what this means is my left hand was grasping my belt, while my right hand was fully in my pants.

jerry grabbed my right arm; he made contact with the arm that was connected to the hand that was in my pants-- the hand that was sliding fabric past my crotch.

and jerry is a 78 year-old man.

he is a 78 year-old man who is missing his ring finger on his right hand-- the hand that grabbed my arm. his hand literally looks like it's permanently doing the shocker and that's the hand which he chose to grab my arm with while i tucked in my shirt.

look, i don't expect you to feel exactly the same way i felt about the experience, but just keep in mind you were not there.

i'm going to make a point to bring some form of recording device to work and capture jerry's essence so all of you can see exactly what i mean. i understand this all may sound brash and disrespectful, but just you wait and see.

he'll haunt your dreams.