Today I encountered a real estate agent who didn't know the square footage of the condominium he was showing."I think it's around seven hundred," he said offhandedly.
"Do you know for certain?" I asked.
"No. I left the flyer in my car," he replied, visibly annoyed, as if I'd snatched a fry from his plate or flicked him in the balls.
Perhaps he was having an off-day or is the throes of an existential crisis, unsure if he wants to spend his finite time hawking overpriced conversion units that reek of Hungry Man Dinners and cat piss. But mostly, he seemed bad at his job, a walking refutation of social Darwinism. And also, kind of a schmo.
Which is why, tonight, I salute Rainn Wilson, a.k.a. Dwight Schrute on the U.S. version of "The Office". I have no idea what Wilson is like as a person (and for all I know, he's delightful), but that's not the point. In a world teeming with gas-siphoning scofflaws and pencil-chewing half-wits, the shruggingly disdainful and those who phone it in, Wilson embodies Schrute with the precision and vigor of a heart surgeon on Red Bull. He is, quite simply, good at his job.
And in all forms, good is worth noting.
2 comments:
Hmmm. I should have talked to you before moving into my new apartment. I didn't realize it before reading this, but it kinda smells like Hungry Man Dinners and cat piss.
As for the real estate schmo, are you absolutely positive that you weren't flicking his balls? Maybe it's just an involuntary nervous tic and you don't even know it. I mean, I'm not a doctor or anything but... well, I... wow, this is a lot more difficult than I thought... Okay, listen, I'm just going to come right out and say it. I've spoken with a few of your other guy friends and we've all agreed that you have a problem. There's no easy way to put this... we might be less inclined to be such schmos around you if you just eased up a little on the ball-snapping. Just think about it, okay? That's all we're asking.
Who says it's involuntary?
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