The Jamboree Bear

So, not too long ago I worked with a man whom I and a co-worker lovingly named “Jamboree Bear.” Mostly because his personality and facial expressions EXACTLY matched this dude from the Country Bear Jamboree at Disney World:

Jamboree Bear (Read about what it is at the link)

Anyhow, we all worked in an open area and this dude made EVERYONE crazy. He had a Chinese wife, who’s ethnicity I mention only because he mentioned the fact several times a day. (Usually while he was on the phone with non-business related calls to pay bills or to catch up with friends.) We don’t know why, but he would work “My wife is Chinese” into dang near every conversation. I guess he was just proud? He also thought everything she ever cooked was some ancient Chinese traditional dish. One time I clearly heard him describe his dinner the night before, “Oh man, she cooked these delicious little pockets of meat and cheese… they were like Chinese hamburgers. She called them ‘Hoi Poy-kit’ ” (Which I know damn well, she was just saying Hot Pockets with an accent and he was too dopey to understand, but they are delicious so I will give him this one.)

Ancient Chinese secret, eh? AKA “Chinese Hamburgers”

When it came to the phone, he had no “inside voice.” Which is why I was entertained dang near every day. There was no reason to eavesdrop, because he was shouting his shit from the rooftops. Like he was an EXTREMELY tall man with a low voice, but when he got on the phone it was like he thought he was Twisted Sister or some shiz. Every now and again when I’m having a tough day, I think back to his conversations and I could urinate 3-7 drops of golden joy in giggle fits. My favorite phone call went as follows:

JamboreeBear: “Yes, hello, is this the place in charge of the highway tolls? Yeah, I had a problem with a toll Saturday… okay, yeah, well I was on my way to a party in Tampa, my wife made a salad and we were really excited to see our friends…”

(I’ll just interject here because why they hell would the toll enforcement representative care about your party or salad, but I digress)

“Annnnyhoo, we were going along the road and then the toll booth came up.  But I didn’t have any change, so I just had to keep going.”

::Pauses to listen to phone representative::

“No, I mean, I went through the toll.”

::Pauses to listen to phone representative::

“No, no, I don’t think you understand… like I went through the toll plaza. Like you know, the one with the little gate that comes down? That one. I drove right through it. It was demolished. The car smashed the gate up pretty good, but it was laying in the road so I’m sure someone around there found it and wondered what happened, well it was me… yes, I’ll hold.”

To be fair, they really should add “DO NOT DRIVE THROUGH THIS” to all toll gate text.

::At this point I imagine the phone rep put him on hold to clean the urine off her chair and gather her co-workers::

“Yes, I’m here.” *Jamboree Bear’s voice becomes elevated and agitated.

“I COULDN’T STOP! WE WERE LATE AND WE HAD THE SALAD!”

::Pauses to listen to phone representative::

“Yeah, yeah, well… I’m okay, the car is okay, (wait for it) but my wife was scared because she’s Chinese.” At this point in the conversation, I have to remove myself from my cubical because of my disruptive laughter. I wanted to yell out, “Dude, your wife wasn’t scared because she’s Chinese, she was scared because you tried to end her life saving a wilting salad by plowing through a toll plaza at 65 miles per hour!” No part of “Fashionably Late” says to show up dead. Anyhow, I left my cubical to recover from laughter exhaustion – so I can’t be sure how his conversation officially ended, but I did learn later that the Jamboree Bear mailed a check to the Florida Toll Enforcement Agency for 75 cents.

But the check’s in the mail!

Advertisements

6 thoughts on “The Jamboree Bear

  1. OMG – Jamboree Bear is perfect description! *cracking up* He sat across the aisle and up one cube from me when he first got hired! It was a close call between the entertainment value and the concentration-disturbance level. My mom used to say ”Who put a quarter in him?” to describe a non-stop talker – well, it was as if someone dumped a bagful in this guy every the morning and then ran!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s