I’ve had a few unpleasant coworkers, but none have left a worse taste in my mouth than this particular person. We’ll call him Charles.
I used to work in a popular area at a well-known theme park in the USA. Charles and I started working in this area around the same time, but he had been one of the opening workers on a brand-new ride in a different area of the park, so he thought he was hot s*** and knew more about everything than the rest of us. He truly believed he was the authority on pretty much everything, related to the ride or otherwise.
Charles was a pain in every possible sense. Talking to him, even in a “friendly” manner, was excruciating. Once, when we were stationed in the same place, he ended up trapping me in a conversation wherein he spent about fifteen minutes bashing and passive-aggressively making fun of something I enjoyed. (I can’t remember what it was at the moment, but probably a TV show or book series.) I made no secret of my anger, to which he responded, “You seem to be getting upset.” No doy, boy! You’re calling one of my interests stupid!
I wasn’t the only one who found Charles intolerable. Stories buzzed around the breakroom describing his utter lack of tact and humility. I once heard him threaten to throw someone out of a window because they said they liked pineapple on their pizza.
Charles’s entitlement stretched beyond silly interactions. We had strong reason to believe that he was either racist, homophobic, or both. Another coworker of ours, who I’ll call Dean, was Black, flamboyantly gay, and literally the loveliest human being any of us had ever met — truly beloved on our team. In one of their first interactions, where they were both wearing their uniforms with name tags, Charles asked Dean how to pronounce his name.
Dean: “It’s Dean.”
Charles: “Oh. I didn’t think that’s how you people pronounced it.”
Then, he walked away. Everyone in earshot was appalled!
Upper management found Charles irritating, as well. Not only would he pitch a fit about doing any extra work or staying a minute late, but he truly thought he was more important than those in charge.
One night, one of our coordinators (our bosses) came up to me toward the end of the night and told me to start closing duties. I said, “Right away,” and got to work. The coordinator moved on to the next area, where Charles was working, and told him the same thing. Charles’ response?
Charles: “I’m going to wait until the people upstairs give me the word to begin closing.”
Shocked, the coordinator pointed at his badge and said:
Coordinator: “You see this? I am the people upstairs! Get started!”
Charles rolled his eyes and put his hands up in mock defeat. Last I checked, that is not the way to speak to a workplace superior.
At the end of our time working at the theme park, Charles ended up becoming roommates with one of my friends who worked in the same place. (Let’s just say the situation was desperate enough to warrant that living situation; she would not have chosen it otherwise.) She told me later that he was just as awful a roommate as he was a coworker. He’d leave dishes in the sink, throw garbage on the floor, and keep pizza boxes with half-chewed crusts in his room. He never put sheets on his bed (which is not necessarily bad-person behavior, but it is pretty gross), and he had obnoxiously loud sex with his girlfriend. (How exactly he got a girlfriend is a mystery to me.)
This person is no longer in my life, and I’m grateful for that. I hold nothing against him — some people can’t help being inept — and I wish him a healthy, joyful, fulfilling life.
Far away from me.
