Working with 'Tards

When I think about my work environment, I am constantly reminded of those people who dedicate their lives to working with the specially abled. The difference is that a) I get no satisfaction out of helping the specially abled and b) the people I work with are not legally mentally disabled, they just play one in everyday life.

None of this is news to anyone who knows me. I have made it a hobby to complain about one's coworkers. One of them is an ADD'd sugar freak who spends most of the day with his hand down the back of his pants massaging his ass and praising Bush. Another is an 18 year old who listens to Pink Floyd over and over again like a stoned hippie and cannot seem to find motivation to do his job beyond the very bare minimum. There is 31 year old sales guy whose main vocal tone is that of "complaint"; he routinely backstabs his coworkers and yet, cannot understand why no one wants to help him. The coup de grace is the 39 year old failed rocker who wholeheartedly believes in aliens and has unwavering faith that Bush and his administration are more evil than Hitler. Overall, it's a just wonderful crowd.

I find myself putting my head in my hands and quietly moaning to myself several times a day. Surrounding by such brilliant incompetancy, I am waiting for their witlessness to catch. I question my sanity on a daily basis--and it wasn't all that stable before I started working here. Is it normal to hear that your coworker is eager to attend a UFO conference, fully believing that he will get the proof he needs to show other people that he has indeed been abducted by aliens? Do other people work in offices where their coworkers chase each other like five year old, yelling and screaming like they're on fire? Are there other people who regularly feel as though they are overseeing a kindergarten instead of a business? How many people work with someone who wore the same pair of shorts everyday for 2 months straight?

All of this and a multitude of other idiocies make my brain hurt on a regular basis. But more than anything else, I worry that one day I will cease to find these occurrences odd and unusual.

When that day comes, I hope I have the wherewithall to quietly bang my head against the wall till the pain is officially gone.

The Office has nothing on me.