She avoided computers at all cost. “Computers hate me,” she would say, which became a burden to other employees who took up the slack in work she didn’t do. I swore to never enable her, and one day peeked into her cubicle to see what she did all day instead of work.
She sat there, spaced out, doing nothing. Finally, she reached for the mouse – and the monitor smashed her in the face. The monitor arm recoiled to its original position as she cried softly.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
She turned, her nose bleeding. “Computers hate me,” she whimpered.