portrait of john

portrait of a guy i work with, this is a real person:

his name is john. he occupies an office with a view, which is always to his back. he's probably 6'2". huge pasty white rolls were slapped onto his large frame by god's brush. his legs probably haven't done any running since the presidential fitness test back in middle school. he's english descent, but most of the nobility of his dna has been erased by fast food and girls gone wild videos. he's definitely a porn guy. he probably has amassed a "collection." a pile of tapes and dvd's with asian girls on the cover that he actually takes care of. they are neatly arranged, by "fetish" so it's easier for him match the right girl with the particular beast he's feeding on any given night. for him, getting a new porn tape is much like meeting a new girl.

his big rayon shirts are designed to hide his midsection. the designs on the shirts are for the most part meant for an african american audience. huge sheets of checkered boards, or even an all black shirt with a checker board collar. it's technically a button up shirt, but it looks like something from house party. and it only seems to make him look bafoonish.

he has bill gates style glasses, or the kind of glasses an over the hill androgenous library lesbian would wear. it makes his face look boyish and pudgey. he has a girl friend in the IT department whom he calls, "puddin'" he means it affectionately, but somehow it comes across as obscene.

he sighs a lot. a lot. he always feels over worked. he feels as though he works harder than any one in the company. when people go to him for help, he's hard pressed and strained, but yes, he'll help them. because he feels he has no choice, because he's a NICE GUY. that's his curse in life, he's the "nice" guy. he passive-aggressively verbally attacks women because despite being nice, they won't give him their bodies, because these women don't want a nice guy, they want a good looking one. this is why he's been doomed to romance with technology, with plastic, with tapes and dvd's. he in fact, feels a little guilty about this because, all the tapes he watches are of beautiful women. deep down he is shallow too.

there is one particular asian woman named sophie in the company that goes to him with every question and it's a disgusting exchange. He condescends her. He patronizes her. he feels so superior to her that it makes my stomach churn. But he doesn't come out and say that he's better than her, it's layered thick into his voice. This happens at least four times a day and it usually goes like this:

sophie: i need your help.
john: of course you do hon.
s: i don't understand what they mean by vip audit.
j: read the email.
s: but i don't understand.
j: read your email, puddin.
s: i did.
j: read it again.
s: (quietly reading)
j: no, aloud cupcake.
s: (reads aloud)
j: so what does that mean?
s: that we need to double check the participant plans?
j: wow, you can do it by yourself.
s: i know, but you are good at this.
j: you need to trust yourself. trust your instincts hon.

and so forth. in john's defense, sophie is really annoying, but that's another story.

john pops diet dr pepper. he sits in his office chomping hostess peanut butter wafers and guzzling drinks. he looks like the kind of guy that could tread water in the military. a soft branch of the armed forces, like the air force. and he'd be sitting on guard duty or moving furniture for important colonels. not good enough to advance, but not crappy enough to get shit-canned either.

he also looks as though he could go completely psycho-burgers at anytime. like at any moment he's going to rip the fire ax off the wall and just start swinging..."here's johnny!" and like there'd be sophie, with her collar bone cleaved in two telling the officer, "he was such a nice guy."

i don't spellcheck.