Personality Disorder was our other sales dude at the sub-contractor where I worked in the middle and late nineties, and the polar opposite of Perky Man. Although he too was a big pot head, he was perpetually depressed, short tempered and prone to brooding.
Personality Disorder was always really sweet to me though.
I heard through the grapevine that he harbored a terrible crush on me. I kind of knew it, but refused to acknowledge it in any real way. He would compliment me by telling me I smelled like rose petals or that my hair looked like satin. His mouth barely moved when he spoke and he couldn't look me in the eye when he said these things. I would usually respond by saying things like "Wow. That's really nice of you to say," and then Personality Disorder would skulk off muttering self loathing things to himself.
Don't get me wrong, I was indeed super cute and had (then and ever after) excellent grooming habits that caused me to smell very nice and have shiny hair, but I think he liked me more because I was the only woman he knew besides his mother that he could talk to and was nice to him.
After I had been working there for about a year, the moment I had been dreading arrived. Fueled by a the confidence of a recent raise, a haircut and a pep talk from Perky Man, Personality Disorder asked me out on a date. I politely refused, stating that I made it a strict policy to never date anyone that I worked with. A huge lie, but at that moment, working for that sub-contractor, the only woman among all those nasty men, it was never more true.
He was totally bummed out and skulked off muttering to himself and didn't speak to me for several weeks. He would come in and pick up his schedule in the morning before I came in.
I felt terrible. He was a really nice man, but there was no way I was going out with him. He was a fuckin' weirdo.
One afternoon my boss Laughing Boy came in from his morning appointments and asked what part of town Personality Disorder was working in that day. I grabbed the schedule and showed him and he said to get him on the phone immediately. Laughing Boy had heard on the news that a man in Personality Disorder's neighborhood was on some shooting spree was still on the loose. He fit the physical description of Personality Disorder. Laughing Boy's first thought was that Personality Disorder had finally had his inevitable freak out and was going nuts killing people.
It wasn't him, but he certainly had the potential to be that same brand of psycho.
Eventually he recovered from my refusal of his affections and we got along just fine, although he continued to scare me a in a Lenny and Curley's Wife kind of way. I would never have been alone with him in a barn or let him hold my puppies (wink).
Believe it or not, Personality Disorder had a terrific sense of humor and we had a great time making fun of our customers together. I would put little stars next to the names on his schedule of the customers whom I predicted would be nutty or asshole-ish so that Personality Disorder would know to ask me about them before going out for the sales call.
Personality Disorder would give our customers funny nicknames like Chicken Lady (kept chickens in the house) or Crazy Legs Morton (a guy that couldn't stand still), and would always come back with a full (and I'm sure sometimes exaggerated) report of all the nuttiness witnessed in people's homes.
I mentioned before that Personality Disorder was terribly jealous of our other sales person, Perky Man's suave skills with the ladies.
Personality Disorder was a very lonely man.
He lived with his mother who relied upon him for everything and waited on him hand and foot. His dad died when he was a teenager. He desperately wanted to fall in love, get married and start a family.
I started giving him dating advice. Offering suggestions on how to meet women and how to talk to them without coming off like a total psychopath.
One day he came in from his appointments and announced that he had met someone special. I was really pleased about this until I found out that he had met her in the personals in the back of the Columbus Dispatch and had only talked to her on the phone twice. A little over eager with the "special" in my opinion, but I was excited for him and asked him describe her.
She sounded like a smaller female version of him. She was in sales, lived with her mother, was painfully shy and wanted desperately to fall in love and start a family. As it happened she went to a therapist in the same building as Personality Disorder's therapist.
Clearly it was kismet.
Personality Disorder asked me to schedule his appointments light for the day of his date. Then later he changed his mind and asked me to clear his entire schedule after 1pm thinking that he'd need some extra time to get ready.
I asked him what time his date was and he said 7:30pm.
Laughing Boy and I speculated about what exactly Personality Disorder would do to get ready for a date that required 6 and half hours. We had a lot of laughs (hence the handle Laughing Boy) tossing out possible Personality Disorder agendas of getting ready for a date:
- 1:15PM - Bong hits
- 1:18PM - Eat peanut butter sandwiches with crusts cut off prepared by mother
- 1:20PM - Play Galaga
- 5:30PM - Masturbate
- 5:35PM - Cry
- 5:40PM - Bong hits
- 6:00PM - Shower
- 6:15PM - Shave
- 6:10PM - Anoint self with oils
- 6:15PM - Beat self with willow branches
- 6:20PM - Chant
- 6:25PM - Masturbate
- 6:30PM - Cry
- 6:35PM - Wash hands
- 6:45 PM - Get dressed
- 6:46 PM - Avoid bong hits and masturbating
- 7:00PM - Drive to date's house
- 7:05 PM - Sit in car...
- 7:06 PM - Masturbate
- 7:10 PM - Cry
- 7:25 PM - Ring date's doorbell
- 7:26 PM - Ask where the powder room is so he can wash his hands.
and so on...
He called in sick the day after this date.
He was married to this woman within 6 months of this date.
She seemed very controlling to me because she would call the office and ask me to lighten his schedule which did nothing but piss me off. I told her that I would defer to Personality Disorder who was usually asking me to do the opposite and schedule him with more sales calls so he could potentially bring in more commissions.
He quit shortly after this. His fiance, whom Laughing Boy and I referred to secretly as Anita Man, was pregnant and didn't think he was making enough money and demanded he find a new job.
I never saw him again, but sometimes Perky Man would give me sad updates about how Personality Disorder had been brutally emasculated by Anita Man and was no longer able to do anything he enjoyed like smoke pot, play video games or hang out with the boys. Basically Personality Disorder was every bit as miserable as he was prior to having all his dreams of love, marriage and a family come true.
The dating advice I wish I'd given him: Don't marry someone who calls your work and asks them to change your schedule for you, like you're some kind of pussy-whipped bitch.
Oh, and be careful what you wish for.