I have been meaning to blog about Cleve for ages. Cleve calls me kiddo. Occasionally Cleve brings me chips and salsa. (Cleve is unaware that I really don't like corn chips. I mean, they're okay, but not exactly my thing) Recently Cleve sent me this email:
Hey thanks kiddo.. got it and its all taken care of.. have a great weekend..
I hope you noted the farewell. Yes, I believe that is a kissy noise, folks. If Cleve wasn't old enough to be my father and 'living with someone', I might be concerned. As it is, the whole situation walks that delicate tightrope between creepy and endearing.
What truly fascinates me about Cleve is his office superhero power (mine is to curl the phone chord and my nametag into tangled mess in an instant, but more about that some other time). Cleve breaks any printer he touches. I do not exaggerate when I say that he has broken our printer at least twelve separate times since we have moved to this office. He has taken to coming in early in the morning and hoping no one catches him at it, but if our printer is acting up during the day we all know who the culprit is.