I'm Going to be a Great Father...

I've spoken before about how terrible it is when kids come into the office, and now I believe I have found a new pet peeve. The only thing worse than an eight year-old punk ass kid rummaging through all your stuff is when someone brings in their newborn baby. First of all, how do you not have a nanny? I'm no doctor but it seems to me that a stuffy office isn't the safest place for a six week old child, nevertheless an office with people like me in it.

I'm not a heartless prick (I am) and I understand that you've spent gobbs of money and energy getting this baby into the world, and now you want to show him off to everyone. I get that. But do it in the park, or the grocery store. Don't bring your kid into a giant asbestos filled room with 30 disgusting people coughing and sneezing all over themselves.

My last office actually had a room that was dedicated to nursing mothers needing to do whatever it is nursing mothers do (again, not a doctor). On that note, I ran out of Lucky Charms this morning. Anyway, it just so happened that my job involved maintaining the facilities of the building, and in turn, all of the rooms therein. Whenever one of these mothers had to nurse, I had to go unlock the door for them, cleanse the room, and then lock it up when they were finished. They definitely didn't pay me enough. But I didn't have problems with any of this, it seemed nature-ish to me, and I don't mess with nature. It's when you bring in your kid like he's a bowling trophy that I get a bit perplexed.

That's why when Ned brought his kid in a little while back, I had to take action. I have no idea how old this kid was, but he was in a stroller and he couldn't talk. I'm gonna say six months? Not the greatest with the whole kid timeline thing. Anyway, I was already heated when I heard everyone ooohing and aaaaahing from across the room, and was even more so when Ned told me the kids name is Steve. Hey Ned, that's my name. Was there something wrong with Ned Jr., it has a nice ring to it.

I knew something had to be done so I waltzed by Ned's desk to find the kid perched up in his stroller, sucking one of those pacifier things, while his dad was dutifully typing away at his computer. I called the front desk from my cell phone and asked the receptionist to page Ned to conference room B, a move that I use quite often if I need someone to get away from their cube. Sure enough, Ned popped up immediately, leaving his newborn behind. I walked up to Steve, patted him on the head, and then stole his pacifier. The kids cry sounded like an ambulance siren, but I didn't waste time feeling bad for him as I sprinted back to my desk.

For the next 30 minutes this kid cried non-stop, and I'm not sure what I enjoyed more: watching Ned try to calm him down with dorky sing-songs, or listening to everyone else in the office turn their love for Steve #2 into complete repugnance. Finally it got to the point where Ned had to leave the office and take the kid back home, which also meant he had to take the rest of the day off, much to the chagrin of our boss. Might as well try and get Ned fired while I'm at it. Right after Ned left I returned to his desk and tossed the pacifier under the desk to make it look like Steve #2 accidentally dropped it, and taking all blame away from myself. I know I should feel bad for all of this, but Ned was asking for it.