My office mate

I'd like to introduce you all to my office mate here at the embassy: Harold Stromford.

Harold is a 50-something FSN (Foreign Service National) is from England who immigrated to Israel about 15 years back. Harold is unique and never lets a not-awkward moment slip by.

Harold is small bald little man with beady eyes and a bad case of tourettes. I've observed closely and realized that every time he comes rushing into the room (which happens about every 5 minutes) he sits in his chair and says "$h!t" very loudly before then going back to work. He'll then move on to more colorful words as he sits muttering to himself as he works frantically.

Also, he spends a great deal of time staring at my chest. Which is remarkable because, let's face it, there isn't much to look at. I assure myself that it's my blinding beauty that keeps him from spending more than 2 seconds at a time looking at my face. The embassy must be full of unbearably attractive women because he just can't look at any of their faces. In fact, Sharon, the secretary in Commercial says that when he comes into use the fax machine (right in front of her desk) he just leans against the wall and stares fixated at her chest for minutes at a time as he waits for his faxes to go through. As unfortunate as this is for her, it made me feel better. 

When not talking or swearing to himself, he likes to tell me how rotten his marraige is to his Indian wife of 14 years. And how beautiful I look. 

"My marriage is %^$*. You look very lovely today. Did you do something new with your hair?" 

That's a direct quote from this morning. 

Harold isn't always what you would call *with it.* After spending three weeks preparing the flight, hotel and travel arrangements for my boss to go to a conference in Dubai,  the week our boss was at the conference he swept around the offices barking at people. 

"Where is John? Where the *&% is John?"

"Harold, he's in Dubai."

"Why the %#% is he in Dubai?"

Blank stares.

"Harold, he has that big conference there. You know, the one you've been planning for the last three weeks?"

Pause. A moment of reflection.

"Right. Right....Have you eaten yet?"

He then rushes back into his office, swearing and muttering all the way.

Just the other day we heard a baby crying in the hall for nearly a minute. Where a normal person would ask "Whose baby is that?" after over a minute of the newborn's sobbing, Harold seemed surprised when he suddenly declared, "There's a baby!"

Moments later, a colleague stepped in and began to speak to Harold. This is what I heard:

Office girl: "Martine brought in her baby today."

Harold: "Who the #$%!! is Martino?!"

Office girl (annoyed): "Martine. It's Martine's baby." 

Harold: "Oh, Martine."

While Harold can't seem to look me in the face, I can't seem to keep from looking at his. When I first met him I couldn't place what exactly was amuck, but I quickly found his quirk. Harold has a pencil goatee that should look like this:

But instead he looks like this:

As crude as my drawing is, it's quite an accurate description of his goatee. I wasn't sure if I was the only one who noticed. That is until I saw Doug, the Deputy Commercial Officer (the #2 guy in charge) with a black marker in hand which he used to point to the big pad of paper which he was showing Harold as they both stood in the hall. As I approached, I saw that Doug had drawn a picture much like the ones I drew above and was explaining to Harold quite visually what was wrong with his appearance. 

Harold defended himself saying that he didn't want to wake his angry wife in the mornings so he didn't turn on the light as he shaved. Doug just stared for a moment before suggesting that he "turn on the lights next time" because he looked like an "absolute mess." I though that the nasty goatee would be gone forever after that admonishment, but I was mistaken. The next day, there was no change to his crooked goatee.

But my favorite Harold incident involves my friend Sajeda, an Arab-Israeli girl who works at the embassy and is sassy as can be. She was in our office talking to our other office mate, Eitan, with her back to Harold. Suddenly she felt Harold behind her. Right behind her. She then felt his hand placed directly on her right bum. Needless to say, she flipped out. MAJORLY. He insisted it was an accident--that he was trying to get into his file cabinet, but she made it clear that if he even speaks to her, she will see that a) he never uses his arms again and b) he will be unable to reproduce.

Which leads me to my favorite part of the day, when Sajeda comes in to say hello. If Harold was fidgety before, you should see when Sajeda walks in the room. He usually darts out the door immediately. Or if he is outside, he loiters outside the office muttering to himself till she leaves. I love awkwardness. Just as long as it is someone else's.