P.S. PLEASE DON'T KILL YOURSELF

You know that feeling you get when a mentally challenged person gives you a hug or screams in your face for no reason whatsoever?   That feeling that something is wrong and there's nothing you can do to stop it?   That's the feeling that remains in my workday, from beginning to end, courtesy of a semi-retarded, man-child of a co worker named Monty.

One can spot Monty a mile away due to the headphones strapped to his face that he wears for the larger portion of our workday.  It should be noted that the headphones are not actually attached to an audio device, but rather appear to serve as a fashion forward accessory for the mentally challenged, much like the character of  "Warren" the handi-capable brother of Cameron Diaz in the movie "There Something about Mary"

Monty begins his day by usually having a coughing or sneezing fit to the point of it sounding like a rape is occurring somewhere in the office.  After the phlegm and snot-fest has died down around 10:30 A.M., it time for about an hour of maniacal random laughter.    "Hey Monty, whats so funny?" we ask, and its usually something worth peeing your pants over like someone added an extra vowel to the name of a town in Hawaii  or a cat or dog that is riding a bike or surfboard.  Serious comedy gems that should not be missed.

About two years ago Monty contacted me via Facebook and started constantly texting me. At first the texts were harmless, and then out of nowhere some crazy random thought would pop up on my phone screen.
MONTY: hey wat u doin?  ME: workin  MONTY: duz everyone h8 me?  ME: ummm, well,,,,no, I guess not  MONTY: ok gr8.  Hey tonight I think I am going to go out and fuck.  ME: ???  MONTY:  Yeah, I have sex with older women for money and have even let a few guys blow me.  I just don't know how to tell my dad about some of this stuff.  Sometimes it all get to be a little overwhelming and I think about hurting myself.
ME:  okay,,,gotta go.  P.S. please don't kill yourself.   MONTY: LOL, ,OK.  Hey, I'm thinking about getting a miniature Doberman Pinscher, you know a Min-Pin.

I swear to God, this is the text convo I had that day with Monty.  I started ignoring his texts after having been  granted access to this little slice of craziness.   The next morning I woke up to a text from Monty that read:  R U NAKED?   This is the point at which I quit talking to Monty altogether.

Dealing with Monty in a professional environment is much like watching a wildlife nature special on the Discovery Channel.  At first it's somewhat cute and lighthearted.  The baby gazelle stumbles around trying to find its way and getting into mischief.  Things get more serious as the gazelle ventures out into the real world on its own and real world problems start coming into view.  You start to realize this aint no Disney cartoon.  Then shit gets real and all Hell breaks lose.  Some crazy ass Lion comes out of nowhere, pouncing on the gazelle and ripping into its chest cavity to gorge on it's still beating heart.

All the while you know something sickening and crazy is lurking for the gazelle, you still tell yourself. no, no no, surely the gazelle has learned not to venture alone on to the savanna.  But then it does and it gets it ass murdered, and you say to yourself; well I guess you kinda had it coming.

A prime example of the above behavior pattern is demonstrated regularly for Monty at our team meetings.  You know there is some crazy shit brewing in his head, but you just keep hoping he keeps it there.

Keeping things subtle, appropriate and constructive is not how Monty rolls.   Our meeting began with Monty asking a Hispanic co-worker if the reason she had a tattoo between her thumb and index finger was because she was involved in gang activity related to perhaps the Crips or Bloods.

Halfway though the meeting  Monty begins getting louder and verbally abusive and is asked by a female co-worker if he can please lower his voice.  Monty responded to this request by hopping atop the boardroom conference table and screaming "don't talk to me like that".  The meeting was adjourned early so that each team member could visit our Human Resource Office to fill out an incident report that detailed an hour filled with Monty's song and dance of anger mixed with racist inquiries.

Around 2 pm all the sitting at his desk has become too much for Monty and really gets his dogs to barking.   Monty takes this opportunity to remove his shoes and socks at his desk and begin a half hours worth of scratching and digging at his fugly hobbit-like feet as the co-workers around him are treated to the smell of ham and rotten eggs mixed with the alcohol continuing to seep out his pores.

After all the inappropriate and borderline criminal behavior that goes reported, my employer sees fit to continue to have Monty work among the rest of us as on a daily basis.    "But he threatened to rape my asshole" we plead to our HR rep.  The rep will usually just giggle, roll his eyes and insinuate we were probably asking for it.

So we are forced to endure the craziness.   On a positive note though, Monty finally did get his Min-Pin, several of them actually.  They made a beautiful prairie skirt.