Rancid Rance from Finance

...Oh, no, it's Rancid Rance from Finance.  And I have a snack he's gonna ruin.

Hiya, Friends!

Have you ever worked with someone who can't say but one word unless it's a disgusting story, but they don't know their stories are disgusting?

We have a fella in our office who's like that, Friends.  His name is Rance, and he works in the finance department.  Because of his awful, ill-timed stories, we all call him Rancid Rance from Finance, and if you're appalled to learn that when we see Rancid Rance coming down the hall, we all duck into any available cover to hide from him, then you've never found yourself trapped in the employee lunch room, learning all about the weird rash Rance has.  You've never suffered through Rance's soliloquy about what happens when he eats lasagna... when you have the misfortune of having brought lasagna for lunch.  (Trust me.  It's disgusting.)

My co-workers and I try really hard to steer the conversation to more pleasant matters, but once Rance starts down his disgusting track, he has to finish his stories.  Oh, Friends, we try to be not-rude.  But when we're eating, it's difficult not to just shut Rancid Rance from Finance down.  It's difficult not to have his own department page him back to his desk to solve financial emergencies.  He falls for it every time, too.

I don't know what constitutes a finance department emergency, but apparently they occur around here with enough frequency that Rancid Rance will stop in mid-sentence to go take care of it.

So I guess there's some redeeming quality about our non-friend from Finance, that he'll stop in the middle of one of his beloved, disgusting tales, and run back to his own department to fix the matter.  I suppose that'd be called dedication to his work.  That would be admirable if it weren't for all the foul, foul stories.

The moral of today's story is I guess you shouldn't tell stories that are gross, Friends.  Nobody likes that.  I'll see ya tomorrow!