Friday, March 21, 2008

Coworkers: Part 36 - FPH‏

   Specific first names had either an F, or a PH, now and then two F's. Never all three. Jeff, not Jefph. Jennifer, not Jennifpher. Philip, not Fphilip. Fifi, not Fphifphi. New Girl was the offspring of an indecisive parent, or a parent with faulty spelling.
   The newbie had that fph arrangement in her first name. Todd and several other guys immediately called her FPH. Her own radio call sign. She was one of the first hires who viewed Todd as "rock star," and not simply as the guy in the back, one of the managers, or simply Todd. FPH had seen Todd sing at clubs and now she was working with him! Brush with fame. Maybe that was why she didn't quash that FPH nickname immediately.
   FPH was a stereotyped goth girl. Black tresses, black fingernails, heavy makeup, lots of eye liner and eye shadow, blood red lipstick. Everyone assumed she listened to that type of music, but she rarely selected tunes for the play-stack. After awhile, whispers trickled that she didn't actually have any taste in music.
   That was also the time coworkers created extensions for that FPH. Fool, Phone Home was one of the kinder ones.
   I had little dealings with this creature. Even when we worked the same shift, she always seemed elsewhere. Dusting, tidying, walking about. Busywork. In fact, the only time I noticed her at all was during truck day. She found one excuse after another to drift into the Backroom and ask questions or seek advice. Not from me, not from Rob. Todd. She remained fixated, his embarrassing in-house fan club. Moreover, Todd already had a girlfriend.
   Ironically enough, a few months later, Todd busted her.
   He was in the Gents, admiring the Shannon Tweed poster, when he overheard crackling noise coming from the Ladies. All of us had razor hearing when 3M tape was being removed from CD's, cassettes, or videos.
   Someone was stealing.
   Restrooms were Employee Only.
   Todd hustled out, meddled in the Backroom a bit, until FPH departed the Ladies. Quick investigation. CD wrappers and cases buried under a pile of paper towels in the trash. Discs and booklets missing. FPH was sent home later that day. Permanently.
   She still crashed a couple of store parties, though.
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