Joseph, The Partner Who Got Fired - Part 3
Part one, part two.
There's something else I want to mention. Joseph's real name is not Joseph, but I chose it for a specific reason - it's a name that can be shortened to another commonly used name. Joseph was always the full Joseph. In fact, if anyone ever called asking for Joe, I knew to take it as a sign they were not close enough to be talking to him.
This is not a hard and fast rule, but in general, more than 50% of the time, it's a bad sign when a guy never EVER wants to be called the shorter version of their name. Not even in the midst of a joke, not even ever. In my experience, these people are control freaks. (Obviously, there are exceptions. It's something I keep in the back of my mind though, when I meet someone who tells me his name is Robert.)
Let's talk about 9/11. Joseph knew I was from New York. On September 11th, when I walked into work Julie, the secretary who sat next to me, told me a plane had crashed into the WTC. The secretary who sat on the other side of me was also from NY, and had a radio on at her desk. I listened in horror for half a minute or so, and then went to another floor where I knew there was a television.
Julie, her boss, and I stood in a conference room while we watched the second plane hit, while we watched both towers crumble. "This is going to start a war," the lawyer mumbled. I ran back to my desk, called my mother, and woke her up to ask if my father was in the city that day. I called my brother, and called a few relatives, both checking on people and letting other relatives know when I knew family members were safe.
While I was doing this, the conference room across from me was being used for an impromptu emergency meeting. In major cities across the country bomb threats were being called in, buildings were being evacuated. By 10:00 a.m., the door to the conference room opened, and lawyers started streaming out. There were rumors all over the place. The building is closing. The building is going on lock down. The firm is closing for the day. The firm is closing at 3pm.
I went over to the secretary from New York and she told me an e-mail was going out shortly. She was from Queens, and I asked about her family. We walked back to my desk together and while Joseph was standing nearby, she asked about mine.
Joseph started giving me a list of files he wanted put in a box, having all of us rush around, packing documents so he'd be able to work at home. At no point did he ever say, "Hey, you're from New York - is YOUR family okay?" Other people were walking by in shock, and people who barely knew me were asking. But not Joseph. He was busy flashing his shit-eating grin about the whole situation. There was a weird disconnect - it almost seemed like he was excited (which yes, I know some people can't deal with extreme stress and all - I used to smile a lot when I was nervous but that was when I was five). This kind of has nothing to do with anything, other than giving you a broader picture of Joseph's personality.
There's something else I want to mention. Joseph's real name is not Joseph, but I chose it for a specific reason - it's a name that can be shortened to another commonly used name. Joseph was always the full Joseph. In fact, if anyone ever called asking for Joe, I knew to take it as a sign they were not close enough to be talking to him.
This is not a hard and fast rule, but in general, more than 50% of the time, it's a bad sign when a guy never EVER wants to be called the shorter version of their name. Not even in the midst of a joke, not even ever. In my experience, these people are control freaks. (Obviously, there are exceptions. It's something I keep in the back of my mind though, when I meet someone who tells me his name is Robert.)
Let's talk about 9/11. Joseph knew I was from New York. On September 11th, when I walked into work Julie, the secretary who sat next to me, told me a plane had crashed into the WTC. The secretary who sat on the other side of me was also from NY, and had a radio on at her desk. I listened in horror for half a minute or so, and then went to another floor where I knew there was a television.
Julie, her boss, and I stood in a conference room while we watched the second plane hit, while we watched both towers crumble. "This is going to start a war," the lawyer mumbled. I ran back to my desk, called my mother, and woke her up to ask if my father was in the city that day. I called my brother, and called a few relatives, both checking on people and letting other relatives know when I knew family members were safe.
While I was doing this, the conference room across from me was being used for an impromptu emergency meeting. In major cities across the country bomb threats were being called in, buildings were being evacuated. By 10:00 a.m., the door to the conference room opened, and lawyers started streaming out. There were rumors all over the place. The building is closing. The building is going on lock down. The firm is closing for the day. The firm is closing at 3pm.
I went over to the secretary from New York and she told me an e-mail was going out shortly. She was from Queens, and I asked about her family. We walked back to my desk together and while Joseph was standing nearby, she asked about mine.
Joseph started giving me a list of files he wanted put in a box, having all of us rush around, packing documents so he'd be able to work at home. At no point did he ever say, "Hey, you're from New York - is YOUR family okay?" Other people were walking by in shock, and people who barely knew me were asking. But not Joseph. He was busy flashing his shit-eating grin about the whole situation. There was a weird disconnect - it almost seemed like he was excited (which yes, I know some people can't deal with extreme stress and all - I used to smile a lot when I was nervous but that was when I was five). This kind of has nothing to do with anything, other than giving you a broader picture of Joseph's personality.
Labels: Asshat, Florida, New York State of Mind, People watching, Work
posted by Green at 10/10/2008 10:30:00 PM
3 Comments:
I had a friend that used to live with a white guy named Jerome. He would freak if you called him Jerry or Jer. "My name is NOT Jerry!!! ITS JEROME" He would yell. It turned out he was a huge asshole and treated my friend like crap until she finally left him.
catherine
Fabulous job of painting a picture of this guy. Excellent use of the name Joseph - I picked up on that immediately. That kind of shit sets off little bells for me too.
That really hit home. One of my best friends HATES to be called the shorter version of her name. She specifically asks me not to, because she thinks it makes her sound like a hooker. I do it anyway. Dammit, I'm gonna teach her to be the recipient of affection, if she likes it or not! And yes, she is a MAJOR control freak.
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