We have a kind of Mexican standoff in the office, here, on days when the garbage goes out to the curb.
Way back when I first got hired, as the lowly secretary, taking care of the office garbage was one of my job duties. And then, about fifteen years in, I broke my wrist one winter, and one of my co-workers offered to take over garbage detail.
Once my splint came off, I offered to take up the garbage mantle again, but the co-worker said no, no, he didn't mind, he'd keep taking care of it.
Except, well, he was a guy, and you KNOW how guys are about anything they consider vaguely "home-maker" related - they stall and stall and put it off until finally YOU do it, just to get the damn chore DONE.
Want proof? Ask a guy to do a load of laundry. Let me know how that works out ...
... Oh, and there's that THING that guys are so good at, where they f*ck up the execution of a chore SO BADLY, repeatedly, that you finally give up and stop asking them to help. Food-encrusted *washed* silverware, anyone? Christ.
Yeah, there's a whole lot of passive-aggression going on when it comes to chores. Anymore, office-garbage-wise, we all just wait each other out until somebody gets SO TIRED of shoving the garbage in their desk garbage can down with their FOOT just to get out of garbage duty for another week that they finally cave and take out everybody's garbage.
Because you can't just take out your OWN garbage. That would sail right past passive-aggression and into a**h*le land, and you've gotta be careful with people you work with every day, doncha know.
The one place where I definitely lose the standoff? Bathroom cleaning. I have been with this company for many, many years, and as far as I know, I am the only one who has EVER cleaned the (one, co-ed) bathroom.
I'm sorry, but I just can't use a bathroom that looks like it's been transported whole from a Tijuana truckstop. That just ain't right. I end up cleaning the bathroom EVERY TIME.
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I learned very early on if you make bad coffee, the bosses eventually stop asking you to make it.
Oh my God, Becs, the coffee. I feel like telling my boss, "You're a grown man, and I'm a professional woman. Make your own damn cup of coffee".
And oh! oh! (Look out; now you've got me started) He used to have me go get his lunch. He'd be, like, "Get me a tuna salad sandwich. Make sure they use FRESH BREAD. (Me: Imaginary eyeroll). Tell 'em extra mayo, a little salt and pepper (Me, thinking: Are you f*cking KIDDING me?), and easy on the rabbit food." (Me, thinking: Rabbit food? You think it's cute to say "rabbit food" instead of lettuce? RAGE).
And don't even get me started on the "hold the plane" incident. I almost quit over that one.
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