Ryan Chartrand

Editor’s note: The Bunion is fake news. Period.


“March is a Frustrating Month for a Man Who Knows Nothing About Sports”

By Jamie Gaylord

Now that it’s March, I’m getting ready to be bombarded with confusing language about Big Dances, Cinderella and picks. To me, it all sounds like a Kevin Costner remake of a Disney movie set in a coal mine. Everyone talks about seeds but nobody will talk to me about the nice geraniums I’m planting in my yard in time for the spring. March is a frustrating month for a man who knows nothing about sports.

Everyone in the office bets $20, and I try to tell them I don’t want to play, but they insist it’s mandatory company policy and they make me bet. Last year, I bet on Southern University because they had more seeds than most of the other teams, and because I had a matching cheetah print outfit to go with their mascot. I put them at the middle of the brack it (is that what it’s called?) and flipped a coin for everything else, just like my coworker told me to.

I usually listen to smooth jazz on the radio while I get my office work done, but in March we have to listen to the games on the radio. I don’t get it – everyone insults the announcers when they are on the TV, but when they are on the radio, the volume gets turned way up and suddenly their words are so important that I’m not allowed to talk unless it’s during a commercial, let alone listen to my Kenny G’s soprano saxophone on K-breeze. Oh, Kenny…our sensual melodic rendezvous will just have to wait until the evening.

I can’t stand how tacky everyone’s outfits are, either. One year, one of the guys came without his shirt on and had his chest painted entirely red and gold. By the middle of the day he was sweating and spraying red and gold droplets all over my paperwork every time his team made the ball go through the hoop or whatever. I went to human resources to ask somebody to make him put some clothes on, but the HR guy was out to the post office. At least, that’s what it said on the note on the door, but I could hear him cheering in there while I read the note. Through the slots in his blinds I saw he was wearing red and gold too.

Couldn’t they reschedule the games for after work so I wouldn’t have to deal with this? It’s not like I make everyone in the office stop what they are doing to watch the improvisational flute competitions I like so much that go on in July. It doesn’t seem fair.

What’s worse is I’m pretty sure some of the guys are drinking on the job. I can distinctly make out the sound of a carbonated aluminum can opening in the background whenever I hear somebody cough. By the end of some days, I can practically taste the alcohol in the air. The more I think about it, the more I think I’m going to use my vacation and sick days this year to avoid being there for as much of the tournament as possible. I’m too frustrated to deal with all this “March Madness” anymore.

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