OPINIONS
There's one born for
every office in history
Mike McGraw, was the office Loud
Mouth when I worked in Washington, D.
C. for the Treasury Department, back in
1938.
Our offices filled a nine-storied build
ing on “G” Street, with various depart
ments on each floor. I worked with Roy
Bishop, head of Accounts, Miscellaneous.
There were about 200 clerks, stenogra
phers, accountants in AM, as we were called,
on the fifth floor.
McGraw worked for another outfit on
the eighth floor. He acted like a hyper
active kid, moving around the building,
one floor after another, always carrying
some file folders to give him an official
function, “How’s the old pot head, Faust?
Have you been down among us, lately?”
Then over to the desk of Vinnie Dolan,
bent over his desk, weighed down by his
hunch-back, a sad cripple with rheumy-
blue eyes, making it through life, working
at figures efficiently enough to make a good
living for those times. “How are doing,
Vinnie, boy?” And he would pat Dolan on
the hunch-back, calling attention to the
deformity. A classic no-no.
I had watched McGraw operate in his
cruel, inhuman fashion and was growing
more and more disgusted that he seemed to
get away with these shenanigans through
out the building, day in and day out.
I was sitting at Roy Bishop’s desk, going
over a problem that had come up, trying to
brainstorm a solution with him. I looked
across the desks and saw McGraw, jibing
his usual targets and laughing maniacally,
inducing others to laugh with him.
He moved to another area and I put
him out of mind while I worked with Roy.
Suddenly, he appeared at our desk. He
slapped his files on my head, “That’s a nice
head of skin you have, Lee.”
And he was off, running to the exit giggling
over the having ribbed me about my pre
maturely balding pate.
“And that’s a nice face of mouth you’ve
got, McGraw.” I heard me saying those
words, not knowing where they came from.
McGraw stopped aghast at my ‘mot juste’.
“Touche, McGraw. That’ll fix your
wagon, you bastard.”
Roy Bishop hollered and pointed his
finger at McGraw, who turned and left our
office.
cover where-ever he appeared.
He would breeze through our section,
almost on a run. As he passed Mrs. Davis,
an obese, compulsive eater, who munched
all day long on fattening foods, he would
call out, “How’s that new diet of yours
working, Mrs. D.?” Then on to Ed Faust,
manic depressive, who popped uppers all
day long to keep his spirits up so he could
The laughter was wild. Everyone was
rocking at their desks. The whole office
was in chaos, joyful chaos.
Word of the incident spread through
the nine story building like wild fire. The
tables were turned on McGraw. He was
hoisted on his own petard, to coin a phrase.
Within the week he had transferred to the
Department of Agriculture.
There is one of these characters in
every office, it seems. I mean the “Loud
Mouth”. He or she indulges in the practice
of putting down other employees with loud
remarks calling attention to physical de
fects, manner of dress, accompanied with
raucous laughter, intended to recruit other
“Loud Mouths” in the put-down.
One prays for the ‘mot juste’, the right
response, to retaliate. More often than not,
it doesn’t come, and we are left out there,
mouth open, red faced, angry, non-plussed,
vexed, and all the other feelings that go
with frustration.
The Laugh
Clinic®
Joseph Patrick Lee
THE PRINT
March 1,1989
Student Opinions
Compiled by Tara Powers
What do you expect campus
security to do for you?
“Give me parking tickets.”
“To be around when I lock my keys
in my car.”
Sean Maybee
“Open up my car if my keys are
locked inside.”
“I think they should protect my car
while I’m at school and prevent
vandalism.”
John Keyantash
David Tuckett
in inY condiwn > excefT aZiw.
Page 3