Don't Think I Didn't Lysol My Monitor

It's taken me a bit to work up the intestinal fortitude to write this particular incident up, but here goes.

I'm sitting in my office one day, as almost all of these posts start, minding my own business. It's been a particularly hard time for me at work-- lots of projects, demands on my time, general shifting of duties around our department, etc.-- so I've not been paying Overshare all that much attention, and she's been under some stress too so she hasn't been demanding all that much either. I must admit, it was nice. Nice to just come into work every day, do my work, and not have Drama all the live-long day.

I should have known it wouldn't last, but I could never imagine it would start back up like this.

Overshare walks in, puts her elbow on the top of my computer screen and proceeds to roll up her sleeve to well past her elbow.

Overshare: I either have ringworm or Lyme disease. Which does this look like to you?

And honestly, it looked like the foul Satan-child of both of these images:

(And before any of you get upset with me for posting such disgusting pictures, let me tell you: I did you a favor. Google-searching for images of ringworm is foul. FOUL, I tell you. Just sayin'.)

I WISH I was making this crap up, I really do. Have I mentioned that I'm not a doctor? Or a registered nurse? Why is she asking me for a diagnosis? I guess I should just be thankful The Nasty was on her arm, and not in a more... er... delicate region.

Anonymous: Uh... I don't know.
Overshare: Huh. Guess I should call my doctor.

But did she call her doctor? No. Have you forgotten who we're dealing with? Why call a health care professional when you can overshare and THEN call a health care professional?

No, she chose instead to ask EVERY. OTHER. EMPLOYEE. what this mysterious red circle could possibly be on her arm. She talked about which diagnosis was more likely all day, and at one point, printed out pictures of both issues (apparently that Google search didn't bother her at all) and held an impromptu comparison party with a group she accosted in the kitchen. Because nothing says "Mmmm... LUNCH!" like a highly communicable fungus or burrowing insects.

At the end of the day, she came back into my office, rolling her sleeve back down her arm.

Overshare: Jeez. I can't believe people in this office sometimes. You know that everyone spent all day talking about my arm? Don't they have work to do?