Teamwork

It's story time, friends.
I am in a horrendous six week communications class wherein we play-act in a burnt out hippies vision of how an office might function.
Let me describe the members of the group I was assigned to lead.

First we have Sheryl, a 25 year-old waitress with a manslaying body and an attitude to match. She's quite clever, but she's also quite aware of it. She leads the group whenever I stop talking in order to breathe. In spite of this, I like her quite a bit.
Next we have Audrey, a 30-something housewife. Very pleasant, but utterly obsessed with children. I could be discussing the relative merits of NiMH vs. NiCd batteries and she's telling me that "most children prefer NiCd because they can throw them farther". Fine, no problem; I can work with that kind of crazy.
Next is Evelyn. She's 17, moderately hairy, and works at McDonalds. She also agrees to anything I propose. Anything at all. She must have poured all of her soul into Big Macs, because there's nothing left. She also wears headphones all the time, so it her agreement could be some sort of camoflage to hide the fact that she's never actually heard my voice.
On to the fun ones.
Darcell is a black diva, and would be cute if she had less mustache than me. On the other hand, she thinks she is teh hotness and she seems to confuse intelligence with sleeping. That doesn't even make sense, but it describes her to a T. Also, she is utterly unable to control her eye-rolling. I ask her if she can make our next meeting, she rolls her eyes. She asks me why she isn't leader while rolling her eyes. She rolls her eyes in her sleep; I can see them thrashing about under her eyelids. She hits it off with no one, and I spend lots of valuable time thinking up ways to beat her to death with a desk without anyone noticing. She also claims to be a world-class typist.
Finally, we have Rafael. Rafael is a late-thirties flamboyantly gay chain-smoker, whose only conversational tecnique consists of the following.

Me: Rafael, I think perhaps we should each do our OWN survey, rather than you blatantly steal mine.
Rafael: I have to disagree with you completely. I think we should each do our own survey. Do you understand what I am saying to you?
Me: Um...
Rafael: I'm so confused. Can I borrow your survey for a minute?

Needless to say, I dislike him intensely.

Last week we had a "meeting" about sex harrassment, where we would each debate various aspects of harassment for one hour, then present our solutions. All of this ocurred in front of the class.

12:00 PM

I get the debate rolling with some excellent humor and a teriffic hat. The audience loves me and wants to take me home.

12:15 PM

Glancing at our agenda, I notice that we are 14 minutes behind schedule. Rafael is still mutilating my opening jokes and performing his "conversation trick" on anything anyone says at all, including "shut up."

12:30 PM

Through the use of some skillful misdirection and humor, I get things somewhat back on track. Audrey promptly throws me under the bus by plunging into a diatribe about sex harrasment among preschoolers or something. I subtly point out that most business settings lack preschoolers, but she is undeterred. Rafael and Sheryl are locked in mortal combat, and Evelyn puts her headphones on.

12:50 PM

10 minutes left, and we are somehow 2 hours behind schedule. That isn't even possible, but its occuring.
I've dispatched Darcell to the classroom computer, to write down any useful solutions we might come up with. I notice she has 2 foot acrylic nails, and I begin to sweat.
Evelyn is asleep; Godsmack leaks out of her head, punctuating our sentences with profanity.
Sheryl has assumed complete control of the group, which I don't mind at all. It's like the first mate of the Titanic shouting "LET ME DRIVE" after they've struck the iceberg.
Audrey is passionately describing her children to Rafael, who listens attentively.

1:05 PM

We're now five minutes over time.
I try to inflict fatal paper cuts on myself when Darcell asks me how to spell "sexual" for the fourth time, then mispells it anyway due to her massive laquered talons.
Evelyn in drooling while Sheryl has decided volume and vehemence are the best method to overcoming Rafael's "conversation trick". Audrey is showing the audience her photo album.

1:30 PM

Part of the audience has been killed by Rafael's overuse of his "trick".
I am in tears.
Sheryl is furious at the partially dead audience.
Evelyn is cheerful and alert, since she didn't actually see the "meeting".
Rafael is triumphant; he continually asks me what kind of A did I get, + or -.
Audrey left long ago to pick up her kids from school.
Darcell is still typing "Secshual" on the computer.


I ended up with a B.

I HATE Miami-Dade.