Cooties, Cooties Everywhere

Here we go again on the subject of germs. Cooties. Nastiness. Smears. Petri dish level gross-out-ness.

From Yahoo!Finance today:

 

How germ-ridden is your office? If you’re a man, your workspace is more likely to be full of bacteria than that of your female coworker’s, a new study suggests.

Researchers looked at bacteria levels on chairs, phones, desktops, computer mice and keyboards from 90 randomly selected offices in New York City, San Francisco and Tucson. Through swab tests, the researchers identified 549 different kinds of bacteria in these offices, most of which came from human skin from the nose, mouth or intestinal cavities.
“We also found a surprising number of bacterial genera associated with the human digestive tract,” the researchers, led by Dr. Scott T. Kelley, an associate professor of biology at San Diego State University, wrote in the study.

Oy.

The most contaminated surfaces were chairs and phones. Which is why I CRINGE when someone/anyone uses my telephone at any workplace.

“Men are known to wash their hands and brush their teeth less frequently than women, and are commonly perceived to have a more slovenly nature,” the researchers wrote.
Now that’s hilarious.

I love that word: slovenly.

Even though the workplace germs research was partially funded by Clorox, me believes it’s true, true, true.

Coworkers are cooties factories.

I used to work with a guy who was my second-in-line bossman and the men’s bathroom was nearby since we had such a small admin office. This guy would leave the bathroom while the toilet was still flushing. So naturally we knew that it was impossible that he’d even had time to wash his hands, even rinse them. And then there he’d be touching stuff all over our desks, handing us files, etc. while we nearly DIED. To make matters worse he had the nerve to bring in home baked “goodies.” Actually they were home baked cooties. I refused to partake. Refused. Even when I’d forgotten my lunch and my stomach was growling like a bear.

Careful out there. Especially if you have a weakened immune system. If you’re a nail biter like me, wait til you get home and then really go at ’em.

Dear Cafeteria Lady

Dear Cafeteria Lady,

First of all I would like to thank you for performing your thankless job of preparing food and then presenting it to us ornery office workers as we buzz through the line during lunch asking various asinine questions such as, “Is that CORN?” when clearly it’s corn.  Or when one of us inevitably spills gravy all over the OTHER foods when we clearly or not so clearly aimed the ladle at our pile of mashed potatoes. I also would like to apologize on behalf of all of the coworkers who text while going through the food line, who fail to notice that they’re holding up the line or that their yakking is so loud that every single person within hearing distance is glaring at their very moving mouth shooting firey darts their way.

The thing that really makes such people annoying is that they don’t even feel the firey darts.

I know. I know us office workers are testy for someone who works so hard to prepare delectable grub for us to devour and then have the AUDACITY to leave our sloppy trays and food messes right there on the cafeteria tables for you to clean up.

The nerve of us.

We’re horrible, yes. But I have an itty-bitty complaint about you, Dear Cafeteria Lady.

Um, could you…Could you…Is it possible when you’re doling food onto my plate that you keep your, um, THUMB out of my food? I mean, I’m sure you’re required by law to wash your hands while handling public food and all that but sometimes just the very sight of your thumb embedded in my mashed potatoes gives me the sheer willies. Thank you for understanding.

Signed,

Cubicle Dweller #382

 

Workplace Cooties: Part 2

Get this:

An average adult can touch as many as 30 objects within a minute, including germ-harboring, high-traffic surfaces such as light switches, doorknobs, phone receivers, and remote controls.

Great. Just what you need: more cooties in your life.

This bit of information makes me look at coworker Brenda’s propensity to leave the bathroom without washing her hands even more strategically.

Use paper towels, people…paper towels to open the bathroom doors when exiting the bathroom. ‘Else you’ll have Brenda’s or Ivan’s fecal extravaganza on your mitts.

See, the Thing About October

Sniffles.

Coworkers with sniffles, with stuff in their noses, with their germy, bacterial fingers and hands all over the place.

That’s the Thing about October.

Why, you could do all you can to avoid the cold germ of others but inevitably you will touch something (the vending machine buttons, miscellaneous door handles, the coffee pot, Marge’s free peppermint candies, the copy machine handle, the fax machine buttons, random documents and folders, the elevator buttons…) and you’ve been infected.

Now you’ll have to endure two whole weeks of sniffling, coughing, aching, fever, phlegm melees in your throat and chest, your ears popping, your tastebuds compromised–all because someone’s unwashed hands or uncovered coughing mouth entered your personal space.

Cooties suck.

Especially at The Establishment.

The good news:  Hand sanitizer’s on sale at your local drug store this week.

I feel you. I really do.