What prompted me to write about my infamous coworker? This page was spawned by my good friend and fishing buddy, Glenn. After hearing the numerous stories about my slightly off-centered coworker, he suggested I put together a small page that highlights his life.

• Real name: Richard ("no....I don't appreciate being called 'Dick'")
• Nicknames: Pengy, Mr. Zip, Rainman
• Age: 27 (that's 9 in dog years)
• Height: 5-9
• Weight: approximately 150#
• Hobbies: computers, Rosie Perez
• Education: BA in Math from CS Fullerton. Currently working on his MA in mathematics
• Job Duties: Nobody knows
• Favorite Snack Food: Pop Secret Microwave Popcorn

My first encounter with Richard occurred on December 23, 1996. It was my first day on the job and I was being my usual gracious self. Down the hallway came four of my new coworkers to introduce themselves. I shook each of their hands and the last was Richard. As I shook his hand, I felt something strangely different. Nobody knows what happened to this poor fellow, but we all suspect it was a birth defect of some sort. His hands each have about three fingers that are misshapen and deformed. This handicap likely resulted in many painful schoolyard taunts that transformed him to the colorful person he is today.

His speech pattern is exactly like that heard in the movie "Rainman"....he throws in numerous "yeah"'s and rocks back and forth in his chair. The more excited he gets, the faster he rocks.

"I broke up with my girlfriend this weekend....you know....Rosie.....Rosie Perez" - yes, he honestly believed that he was seeing Rosie Perez.

In our business, we depend heavily on email. One of my former coworkers, Doug, was having a bad week. He wasn't able to turn in a current project timeline to our hero, who was given the highly technical task of compiling a department-wide schedule. The email exchange started off pleasant (they sat right next door to each other), but as is usually the case with Mr. Zip, things get taken the wrong way and feelings are hurt. In a matter of hours, it became a flame war of epic proportions with accusations flying all over the place. My former coworker, deciding enough was enough, went to Mr. Zip's office. Mr. Zip flies outta his chair. Doug says, "sit down." Zip sits. Doug proceeds to tell Zip why his schedule is late. Mr. Zip starts apologizing profusely....tears start welling up in his eyes and he starts mumbling something about being "sensitive" that week.

Looks like the whitest white man ever to walk the planet, yet insists on calling himself a Latino and spews forth his high school spanish ("Me gusta las mujeres latina").

The Los Angeles Air Force Base has a turnstile device that allows access only to those who have the proper ID cards. We had a meeting over at the base and Scott, our then boss, was the only one who had a valid ID. In order to pass through the turnstile, you have to swipe the card through a magnetic strip reading device, upon which you normally hear a "click" indicating you can pass through the turnstile. Being the practical joker he is, and knowing how eager Mr. Zip is, Scott decides to pull a classic. Mr. Zip was waiting in front of the turnstile like a football player about to charge the blocking sled. Scott fakes a swipe through the card reader, Mr. Zip hits the turnstile….and comes to a complete stop. I hadn't seen anything like it since Matt Darby hit that Nebraska receiver at the Rose Bowl in '89.

• With a need to be heard in meetings, he always throws in exclamations. They change from month to month, but some of his faves: "yeah!", "that's a good boilerplate", "let's take this off-line"
• With a need to be seen in meetings, he always nods his head violently in affirmation or, when faced with a somewhat confusing issue, scrunches up his face and stares intently at the ceiling.
• Amazingly, he's always the first to spurt out a reply whenever somebody asks what any acronym stands for…of course, he's usually wrong.
• Eats like a starving Ethiopian. I once saw this man finish a salad, then lift the container and sip all the dressing from it.
• Keeps practically an entire supermarket in his desk. I took a peek in there one day and saw microwave popcorn, salad dressing, cookies. Fearing for my life, I vacated the premises as quickly as possible. This isn't the irritating part. What bothers me is he's incredibly averse to sharing any of his food...not that I'd want any. He has this habit of popping a bag of popcorn, stinking up the entire floor and drawing people looking for popcorn into his office. On a whim, I decided to toy with him. After I knew he popped a bag, I sneaked over to his office and listened. All I heard was the sound of a feral beast downing popcorn at an alarming rate. I then started shuffling my feet outside his door.....the feeding frenzy drew to an immediate halt and was followed by the sound of a drawer opening and closing. Letting the suspense build for a minute, I popped my head into the door and found my coworker staring at a wall in front of his desk, still smacking on the remnants of his last handful of popcorn. "What's up, Craig?"..."oh, nothing...just thought I smelled popcorn"..."nope...none here." To top it all off, after two years of using the SAME microwave ovens, this idiot still burns his popcorn to a crisp. I suppose it's all related to wanting to pop every single kernel in the bag. I caught him in the lunchroom staring intently at the microwave once....in the oven was an open bag of popcorn. Minding my own business, I washed my mug and heard a "POP" every 10 seconds or so. This went on for about two minutes. He took the bag out and like a squirrel looking for acorns, picked out all the kernels that had popped in this second go-round.
• After having a department lunch at Olive Garden, he was seen fleeing the restaurant with three breadsticks rolled up in a napkin. During lunch, he was witnessed repeatedly asking the very attractive Latina waitresses what "marinara" meant.
• Picks his nose.
• Picks his ears....then smells his finger.
• Wears floods...not just normal floods, but we're talking about three inches from the top of the shoe when standing.
• Wears white socks with his floods.
• Wears clip-on ties.
• Has two suits from C&R that he wears 4 days a week. As one of my coworkers once said, "what a difference a day DOESN'T make!!"

• Does not drive. In order to get to school, he has to catch Metrorail from work (El Segundo) to Downtown, hop on a train (like a huge railroad train) to Fullerton, and then catch a bus from the train station to CSUF.
• Lives at home, pays no rent, has no car, has no student loan payments....yet is deeply in debt.
• Attended the AIDS dance-a-thon with hopes of meeting celebrities. He did manage to meet a minor celeb and left a business card with him.
• Talks to himself in the bathroom stall. I once had the misfortune of being in the neighboring stall when he went on one of his tirades (not knowing I was next door, of course). His five-minute rambling included threats to his boss and a self-calming talk since he was late for a meeting. Fearing for my life, I tried my best not to make any sudden movements and have a crinkling ass-gasket give up my position.
• We all believe he's on the brink of going postal. The running gag was that he'd go home after somebody pissed him off and carve said person's name into a bullet. We had a running tally about who was in the first clip and who was in the second.
• Recently returned from Mexico City. He went down to spend Valentine's Day with his 37-year-old Mexican "girlfriend".