Horror Stories

Creeps On The New Job

My New Job Is Giving Me The Creeps
By Reddit User: AHarmonRights

There's always freaks and weirdos galore at office jobs, but my new workplace is on a whole different level. I was hired as a low-level programmer for one of those financial groups. I can't say the name, for obvious reasons. I started three days ago and already I can't stand the thought of punching in tomorrow morning. It's not because of the company. At face value, the company seems like any one of your run-of-the-mill financial tech firms. And it's not the work that's sickening me. In fact, I can't say I've done even an ounce of work since I got here. No, it's my coworkers.

I'll start with Geoffrey, my desk mate and "trainer." I put trainer in quotes because the extent of his first day orientation session was showing me how to log into the company email and giving me a binder full of passwords for our software. After that, Geoffrey just sat back at his desk and stared at his monitor. He wasn't doing any work. I wasn't doing any work. Looking around the small, sunny office, it didn't seem like a single person had anything going on.

Geoffrey has long, thick hair. Like he grew up in the 70's and stopped getting haircuts after his first Led Zeppelin show. I sat watching him out of the corner of my eyes. Once in a while Geoffrey would sweep the hair from his face. On the fourth or fifth time, I spotted what I thought was an earring. Until it started moving. To my shock, there was a spider crawling through Geoffrey's hair. I'm not talking about a little house spider either. This thing was fat and brown with an abdomen the size of a quarter. Its spindly legs flexed and curled around the long strands of Geoffrey's hair. Geoffrey seemed to not notice. I sat up to say something, but when Geoffrey looked over at me and smiled real wide, I just let it go. I didn't know this guy and didn't want to offend him by insinuating he was so unwashed that insects were nesting on his head.

Let's talk about Anita next. She has a desk parked in the corner of the room, away from everyone else. She's always there. Not once have I seen her get up to go to the bathroom, to leave for lunch, to take a break. I come in the morning and she's already there, typing away. I get ready to leave for the day and she's still at her desk. Come to think of it, I've never seen anything of Anita except for her tapping away at the keyboard, her complete attention fixated on her work. She's like a damn robot.

Or I thought she was, until I realized she's just a lunatic. After a couple days of sitting for 8 hours with no work sent my way, I started to ask around the office to see if I could help anyone else with their projects. Surely Anita, who is always intently working away the day, had something for me. But when I came around to the side of her desk and hunched over to greet her, I noticed that her monitor was black. The damn computer wasn't even turned on. She kept tapping away at the keys anyways and only stopped for a moment to tilt her head up and grin at me.

I backed away slowly, and made a quick retreat for my desk. And I sat there. Sat there doing nothing for a solid hour. I just watched the strange gathering of folks around me. Geoffrey with the spiders in his hair. I counted three more of them combing their way through his quaff. All of different sizes, with sickening greenish-brown bodies. They didn't seem to phase them at all as he ran his fingers through his hair. When I really looked hard, I even saw a couple of bite marks on his knuckles. Anita was still working on nothing. She was either a genius at looking busy or a total nut. Then there was Charles.

Charles was an old black man with a big belly and a ring of balding hair around his head. He was caught up in a never-ending process of stapling papers, highlighting a few lines, and stacking them at the edge of his desk. Inevitably the stack would grow too high and slump over into the waste bin next to him. Every five minutes or so he would yank open the draw by his left knee, reach down, and fiddle around with whatever was inside. I watched him repeat the process six times.

One time I saw a yellow-white globule stuck to his wrist. Honestly, at first I figured it was a booger. People pick their noses. But when it fell from his wrist and onto the floor, I watched it begin to squirm atop the dusty carpet. Inconspicuously, I rolled my chair closer and leaned over to have a glance. It was a maggot. A squirming, live maggot. I nearly vomited right at my desk, but caught myself in time to dash to the bathroom.

When I came back, I lingered by the coffee machine and waited. I wanted to see what was in that drawer. It didn't take long. After a couple minutes, Charles continued his routine and yanked the drawer open against his thigh. I tossed the stir stick from my coffee mug into the trash and walked past Charles. Leaning over, I peered down into the open drawer. It was a squirrel. Or it had been one, I think. There was a bushy, matted tail and red fur. A lot of exposed bone and rotten grey flesh. And, of course, a writhing circus of maggots. I hadn't noticed the musty smell hanging in the air of the office before, but I instantly recognized the scent of rotting flesh subtly wafting away from Charles's desk.

What the hell is this place?

This afternoon, at the end of my third day, the boss came waltzing out of his office and strolled across the floor where all of us employees sat, staring at our hands. Or typing nothing. Or stroking dead rodents. He sat on the edge of Geoffrey's desk and crossed his arms and asked how everyone's day was.

He introduced me to everyone for the first time. It was only then that I realized no one in this office even knew who I was except for Geoffrey, who had spent a solid five minutes showing me to my desk on day one.

I spoke up and asked the boss exactly why the person before me had left. He let out an obnoxious, haughty laugh and the other three all joined in.

"He didn't fit in" the boss said.

Then they all laughed harder.

"Let's just say he got the shaft" he said.

And they were all doubling over and slapping their knees. I didn't get the joke, I guess.

At the end of the day, I stood in the elevator lobby outside the office doors, completely perplexed and uneasy. Maybe this job wasn't for me. Maybe I should have kept looking. I don't even know what I do here. I was shaken from my thoughts, though, by the smell of death. I had passed through the elevator lobbies six times now, always weirded out by the peculiar smell in the air, but never pausing long enough to give it much thought. There were three elevators. The ones on the left and the middle worked, despite being god awful slow. The one on the far right had been down for maintenance since I first interviewed for the job. The doors were pried open and yellow caution tape crisscrossed over the open shaft. I inched over to the door and peered down into the complete black of the elevator shaft. The scent of blood and decay hit me right in the face and I reeled back in disgust. Just as I caught my breath, the boss came strolling up behind me and clapped his big hand on my shoulder.

"How are you liking it so far?" he asked. "Do you think you're going to fit in?"