The Paostian Deal

I have an officemate and he’s best at freaking everyone out. It took us a year before finally concluding that he was hired to do just that, and it’s absolutely fine.

I have an officemate, his name is Nor. He says I’m his third favorite person in the company—his immediate superiors being the first two. Fair enough.

I have an officemate, his name is Nor, and he dreams of opening his own bar. Or club. Where bouncers double as pole dancers to save on employees’ wages. And yes the bouncers are all males.

One can’t miss Nor in the small office. Just look for signature clothes and some sun-crisped blonde streaks on a towering mass of dark brown skin and you’d be all set.

I have an officemate whose name is Nor. Yet he prefers “Norsky” most of the time. It’s cuter, he says in his deep voice, then he giggles like Ms. Clueless on-valium.

Now don’t be fooled by the antics, as Nor—or Norsky—too has other uses. Hilarity is a given, but you’ll also be impressed by how resourceful and creative he can get. Short by one standee? He’d ask the next stranger to raise that 4x5 banner for you. Missing a copy of that report? He’d sneak out clean sheets from other desks for you to print all 93 pages again.

Got questions? You can run to Nor. At 29, he can be described as one who’s mature enough to shed light on life’s dim-lit portions… like hookers and illegal drug dealers. Or getting ripped off a freelance stint. Or bitter break-ups. Even credit card limits and how to blotter the scumbags-in-hiding responsible for those interest rates piling up every week.

I have an officemate, his name is Nor. We’re not exactly friends, but seeing as how I rank in his hit list, I think I could continue sparing a few parts of my bugged existence listening to him enjoy singing Hit Me Baby One More Time while hauling boxes 30 times my size in and out the door…

For Nor may be missing both his screws, yet in the end, if you look back, we all once fancied putting -sky to our names too.