Gabe and Pfizer

I am going to blatantly blog about my job of four years, a temping gig at Pfizer and my friend of four years (boyfriend for two, exboyfriend for two), Gabe. Please don't be alarmed. There's no vitriol to fear here. Perhaps toward several co-workers, but not Gabe. I could tell you about the cast of characters here but most of you saw or read my play, "Every Dog" so you know about the sort of office shenanigans I've witnessed. You know about Big Stinky, who referred to his boner often and picked his ears. You know about the Japanese chef who called me Kathreen. The office manager who found Gabe so cute he had to hire him, with or without my recommendation. The crazy lawyer who told me to make another lawyer happy as his wife and kids were stressing him out. The surly old man with the amazing laugh who grunted at me.

As many of you know, your feelings toward your ex potentially run the gamut. I don't think anyone in the history of humanity has spent 5 days a week, almost every week, for two years with their ex as Gabe and I have. And so it is on my last day here, leaving this crapass job, that my thoughts return to Gabe. We've, much to Gabe's dismay, smooched a little on the job, gotten lunch/dinner/coffee together, run errands with each other, watched the aftermath of a bombscare, done the crossword, read the paper, compared notes about auditions/sketches/plays/relationships, surfed online dating sites, ridiculed our co-workers, dealt with each other's hangovers . . .in turn, seen each other at our best and worst, on a daily basis, for about three years. We've also fought here. We've taken turns ignoring each other. We've passed each other in the hallway blatantly looking anywhere but at each other. There were times when I could hear his laugh a few rooms away and it broke my heart. Did you know Gabe hates abbreviations? FYI is a favorite. He's scared of old people. The thought of a crotchety old woman with a walker shaking her fist and yelling every abbreviation known to man while struggling to chase Gabe down the street makes me laugh a lot. Or maybe she should be in one of those motorized wheelchairs, attempting to run him down: "IMDB! ETA! ETD! FYI! SUNNY D! RSVP! P.A.! WMD! TREX!"

As of late, I've taken to rubbing my boobs on Gabe's office door just to piss him off, which brings me great joy. And he, of course, has his own ways of annoying me, which make him happy as well.

So, this post is for Gabe. May you get the eff out of here ASAP, jackass.