So, I work with a lady named Zany.

Really. Should I notify Mother Goose?

Zany is a 4'1/2" tall Filipino woman who loves to sport sweatsuits and plastic shirts on ANY day of the week...casual Fridays be damned. She's very loud, talks very fast and I don't understand 87% of what she's saying.

To be honest, she scares me. Whenever she looks at me and scowls (as she always does,) I wet myself a little.

Zany works as a receptionist at my office. Constantly walking about her cubicle with her shiny little headset, tidying her ceramic knicknacks, she's always ready to shoot down anyone who might have the balls to call our company.

ACTUAL (OVERHEARD) PHONE CONVERSATION:

ZANY

HelloCluelessClaimsThisisZANY.

(thick accent, and she talks very fast)

...

ZANY

Do you have a claim number, meester?

...

ZANY

what?what? WHAT!?!?!?...I'm not being rude. YOU'RE BEING RUDE....FINE. CALL BACK...IDON'TCAREIFYOUTALKTOMY SUPERVISOR!...MY NAME? ZANY. ZA-NY. ZANY....Like 'crazy'. WHAT'S MY LAST NAME?...I DON'T HAVE TO TELL YOU THAT. I don't...because I'm the ONLY ZANY THAT WORKS HERE.

Every time I ask her a question, she always seems BIGGER than me, and I'm taller than her by about 2 feet.

I cry myself to sleep at night. Sometimes. All because of Zany.

tyler