So, P.H. reckons she might have to start calling the Hypochondriac a new name – and that name is Klepto.
The Hypochondriac went to a training session last week and came back LOADED with confiscated tea bags. Not just one or two. More than ten. When questioned by P.H., she tried to convince the office that the tea would ‘just go to waste.’
The HypoKlepto had another training session today and, naturally, has brought back even more.
The ironic thing? P.H. has never seen the Hypochondriac ever drink tea. Once.
More tea than anyone could ever drink.
Perhaps we’ve not established the fact that the Hypochondriac is on the spectrum. She refuses eye contact with authority and she doesn’t pay attention. She focuses on anything else. When P.H.’s department has their usual weekly meeting, this usually forces the Hypochondriac to go through OCD habits, however, in a special meeting this week, she spent the entirety of the time focused on her
very special 35 EUR Svarowksi pencils. That’s right – one full hour of looking at below.
Very fascinating. Much glitter. Such sparkle.
The Hypochondriac moved recently (which could be a complete string of posts, but we will not digress).
One of the most interesting facts that came out of the move was the fact that she was selling her washer/dryer unit (the one from her former flat).
She doesn’t use it.
HER MOM DOES ALL HER LAUNDRY.
Your mom’s cheaper.
Never mind that she is a grown ass woman in her thirties.
Everyone’s favorite co-worker, The Hypochondriac, was out last week. One blissful quiet, stunning memorable week.
She showed up (late) yesterday with a cold.
How does P.H. know she’s sick?
This provided a clue. Of course, what else would you expect from a Hypochondriac?
In addition to the pharmacy she brought in, the ‘migraine’ that had her leave early (after her first day back after a month), the hunched over walking, the obvious ‘woe is me’ attitude and the veritable river of snot she’s producing, PH wishes her co-worker would’ve just stayed home (and on vacation).
PH lives abroad, but can order things from the US and have them shipped over. This is a privilege which, naturally, the Hypochondriac, upon learning about has completely, totally and utterly abused
and PH feels will be stripped away at any moment due to her co-workers extreme online shopping habit.
In what form?
Yes, the place well known for UNDERWEAR is where she has ordered no less than $500 (?) amount of clothes from.
Bras, yes? Clothes, no!
The Hypochondriac has been faced with a dilemma – a spot of oil on her shirt (no, not from the seaweed, this was from the ramen noodles she consumed in conjunction with the seaweed and cheese. Sidebar: she currently has the following on her desk to eat
and not part of the hoard half eaten grapefruit, remains of seaweed, remains of ramen).
How do you think she would combat said spot?
Specifically, salt taped to her shirt.
That she’s changed out twice already.
Only a slight exaggeration.
The Hypochondriac enjoys snacking on seaweed + Kiri soft cheese. She especially loves eating it DURING MEETINGS.
Picture P.H. vomiting in her corner.
The Hypochondriac is…on another level.
1. 3 appointments this week (including one getting fitted for a daytime mouth guard)
2. Talking constantly about her aches and pains (literally from the moment she enters the office)
3. Seeing medical professionals and attention from a variety of fields
4. Speaking to whoever led her “workout” the other day to see what or how she ‘strained her neck’
5. This sentence, “People pop their jaw out of alignment all the time – it happens constantly.”
*PH and Mirco Manager gave her a verbal slap for that gem.
She’s a constant distraction and dum dum PH forgot her noise cancelling headphones!!
The tone. The constant I’m better than you and you’ll never know what I know tone is killing P.H.
IT’S ONLY HER FOURTH WEEK!
HAS P.H. MADE A COLOSSAL MISTAKE?
Takes too many painkillers/drugs in general, damaged her liver (?), cannot take anything for period. Complains about period. Hunches over desk in pain.
Go home, Hypochondriac.
PH doesn’t care.