Glenda (the Not-So-Good-Witch)

Glenda is the office complex tenent manager. (More like tenant terrorizer.) She's 5'11, always sporting a new red hair color, and awful 80's outfits that pain the eye.

See a flash of fire in your periphial vision? Don't be alarmed -- it's not flames, just Glenda's hair. (Burning it is just my personal fantasy.)

She goes from burgundy, to blazing auburn, to fire hot, to toxic red, to mocha sun, to can't remember her latest shade but I'm sure she'll swing by and fill me in this week. One day it will all fall out, I'm just waiting.

I have fantasies about submitting a video of her to one of those make-over TV series. She'd be a challenge for them. She has a great figure really. Lovely legs. It's just the persona, the agressive snoopy attitude. Eeesh.

She has been here, oh, since the beginning of time I guess. She knows every tenant's personal business and, as mentioned, has the worst wardrobe you've imagined. It's not just that it's bad, but it's so loud. I think the prize goes to the teal colored lace dress with the flowy crinkle train. I don't know though, it's a close one. That plaid mini jumpsuit is preeetttty bad.

She has absolutly no reason to be in our editorial department. None. Yet she manages to show up to fiddle with the thermostat or investigate some (imaginary) duct problem at least twice a week. She cleverly figured out how to lock the thermostat since, apparently, the five of us who work here aren't capable of controlling the temperature.

Thanks to her it's always freezing or baking us, and we now have to call her for a code to adjust it.

You can hear her coming from 30 feet away. Aggressively stomp, stomp, stomping in her pleather-lizard-skin high heels.
I immediately pick up the phone and pretend to be in the midst of an editorial crisis with Google until she finishes her pointless fiddling around and leaves to harrass someone else.

To facilitate communication with the front desk receptionist, she insists on using a walkie-talkie. He voice is such a screeching blare it really isn't necessary, as we can hear her through the walls. She is constantly threatening to fire receptionists when they won't keep the volume up on the walkie. (And we wonder why that position has such a high turnover rate, hmmm.)

I once walked past her office as she was launching into one of her receptionsist on the virtues of modesty. Apparently the 20-year-old girl has shown a little cleavage. I listened (controling my laughter) as Glenda went on and on about how unprofessional it was. I think her own skirt was about 10 inches long that day.

The (single) maintenance man Bob is always hiding from her. She's been putting the moves on him for months now. I'm actually quite impressed with Bob's ability to elude advances.

My favorite is when he leaves his walkie-talkie in the bathroom with the door shut and takes off for lunch. Glenda tracks him down to the restrooms, and then hears her own voice coming from the bathroom.

"Bob, I need you to lift something in suite 204!!! Baaaaaabbbbbbbbb are you in there?!?!"

Uhhh, her grating voice, can't someone silence her?