I have this coworker who I refer to as “Magic Mike”, and it’s not because of his rock-hard abs, which I’m sure he has, but they are well hidden beneath his well-toned beer belly that he developed because of the six-pack that he drinks on a nightly basis.
So why do I call him Magic Mike if he doesn’t have the body of a male stripper or look like Channing Tatum?
The answer lies in how he is able to make his work magically vanish from his desk and appear on mine. – Pathetic!
Today was no different. I took work off yesterday because of a possible sinus infection, but after a day of rest, popping Zicam and benadryl like they are candy and not being around my virus carrying coworkers I felt much better today…so I braved the cold and wind and went to work.
As I approached my desk, I noticed a sticky note on my monitor that usually means one thing…Magic Mike wanted to see me.
Let me fill you in on a couple things about Magic Mike. First, the guy can’t send emails and won’t use instant messaging. I don’t know if he doesn’t know how to use outlook or communicator or if he’s afraid there will be a paper trail of how he dumps his work off on other people, but either way, and for some strange reason, he feels that it’s necessary to walk over to see you in person.
Second, Magic Mike has an odor. I think he eats a lot of garlic or maybe it’s onions, because he has a pungent smell of one or the other. I think it’s because he drinks a lot and uses the garlic and onions to mask the odor of alcohol. And if you’re wondering…the answer is: yes…even at eight in the morning he has this odor.
Third, Magic Mike sweats a lot. I don’t know if it’s a glandular problem or if he’s just a nervous person, but he sweats. I don’t like it. Sweating is for athletes, runners and people who workout, not for the office where you sit and do nothing all day. And since he sweats so much I’ve thought about calling him “Water Works” or “Sweat Shop” but neither seem to fit, and my little circle of trusted coworkers have agreed that referring to him as “Magic Mike” is much more humorous, so it sticks.
Fourth, Magic Mike is a team lead and has taken the title to mean that he no longer has to do any more work, instead he feels that he’s been given the right to delegate his work out to whomever he wishes. From what I gather of the past six months…he wishes that person to to be me.
Fifth, the title of “team lead” doesn’t really mean anything, the management doesn’t see him as a manager so the higher ups determined that if you’re not management material then you become a “leader” not a “manager”, but you still get the salary and benefits that the managers get…just not the title or the responsibility; which I think is quite pathetic, but that’s neither here nor there.
and Finally, Magic Mike works on a team of people who are supposed to be the next level up from my team. So, basically if my team can’t resolve the issue…we send it up to his team because they are supposed to be more educated, skilled and trained; but apparently Magic Mike doesn’t see it that way.
So, this morning I see the sticky note on my monitor and yes…it was from Magic Mike. However, I didn’t bother contacting him; because I had missed yesterday and wanted to get my day started off by answering emails and catching up on a few tickets that needed my attention.
“A La Peanut Butter Sandwiches!” …PooF!… There was the smell of garlic and/or onions.
I slowly looked over my shoulder to see his sweat covered face smiling at me. He then proceeded to tell me that the “Pinata” (another coworker on my team who’s as lazy as Magic Mike. I’ll tell ya about her another time.) failed to research something and wanted to know if I would look into it.
I gotta tell ya…I don’t know if it was from being exhausted because of the benadryl, or if because I still had residual effects from the sinus congestion; but I looked him square in the eye and said…
“Go back to your desk. Send the work back to “Pinata”. Tell her what needs to be done and leave me the hell alone!”
He never said a word. He just got up…and walked away. And then I heard the door to my supervisors office close…
What happened next really pissed me off…
My supervisor sent me an “invite” to a meeting between she, myself and Magic Mike for later this afternoon.
I have a strong feeling that someone’s going to get fired today. I’m sure it’ll be me.
My workplace and Magic Mike are pathetic!