If Shakespeare’s Richard III Were Your Coworker

If Shakespeare’s Richard III were your coworker, he would use smiley emojis in all his emails, and although you—being Minnesotan and well-versed in the nuances of passive-aggressive behavior—wouldn’t buy it, your boss and all the VPs would find it charming.

If Shakespeare’s Richard III were your coworker, he’d have long conversations with himself in his cubicle, which would be right next to yours — alarming conversations you would think you were meant to overhear — but because your office has such a very disengaged HR department, you would never know who to talk to about it, so you would just start wearing earbuds and cranking up your music.

If Shakespeare’s Richard III were your coworker, he would take an instant dislike to anyone in the office named Brittany, and no one would understand why.

If Shakespeare’s Richard III were your coworker, he would leave his dirty dishes in the breakroom sink and then complain that he’d seen George from Accounting leave a bunch of dirty dishes in the sink.

If Shakespeare’s Richard III were your coworker, everyone would be careful not to say, “I’ve got your back,” because Richard is really sensitive about his back and nobody would want him to think it was a dig.

If Shakespeare’s Richard III were your coworker, when his immediate superior got fired, he would pass around a really sappy Papyrus farewell card for everyone to sign, and then he would deliver it right before he started moving his things into his former superior’s office.

If Shakespeare’s Richard III were your coworker, he would call someone to ask a question instead of walking the ten feet to the other person’s cubicle. You’d guess that he would do this because of the contortions his face makes when he’s lying (a holdover from the pre-Garrick performance style).

If Shakespeare’s Richard III were your coworker, he would “work from home” at least once every couple of weeks, always with a very valid reason for doing so, such as a mortally ill pet or a mortally ill wife or an electrician doing work on his attic.

If Shakespeare’s Richard III were your coworker, he would pay a creepy amount of attention to the intern, even/especially if the intern happened to be his niece. And let’s face it, nepotism is fairly widespread in the corporate environment, so most of the time, the intern would be his niece.

If Shakespeare’s Richard III were your coworker, your two remaining yogurts would vanish from the fridge, even though they were labeled with your initials. You would send out a passive-aggressive email about this, because that’s what Minnesotans do, and Richard would respond with sympathy and outrage. Later you would notice two empty yogurt containers in his trash can, with the lids cut up into tiny pieces so that it would be impossible to identify them as yours.

If Shakespeare’s Richard III were your coworker, he would make a rousing speech at the office holiday party, but people would only remember the first clause, which they would quote out of context afterward. He wouldn’t mind, though, because he’s a big fan of double meanings.

If Shakespeare’s Richard III were your coworker, he’d say things like, “Thanks for flagging that!” and “Good catch!” and “Just let me know if you need anything else from me on that front,” and you’d know in your bones that he was imagining throwing your lifeless body down the elevator shaft.

If Shakespeare’s Richard III were your coworker, he would always show up two to three minutes early for a meeting, and since you always show up about one minute early and everyone else moseys in about one minute late, the two of you would have a lot of awkward two-minute conversations about TV shows while sitting in the empty conference room. The worst would be when you’d try to explain your conviction that Game of Thrones squandered its opportunity to be truly nuanced rather than just well-acted. “Like, what was Joffrey’s motivation?” you’d ask, and he’d respond, “Motivation is boring. I’m just in it for the decapitated horses and tits.” And you, ever grammatically fastidious, would say, “Decapitated tits?” just as your boss walked into the conference room.

If Shakespeare’s Richard III were your coworker, happy hour after work would always be slightly awkward, because of what happened to George from Accounting that one time with the wine. But Richard wouldn’t want to talk about that because he’d claim it was just too painful. Instead he’d subtly prompt everyone to complain about the boss, and he would manage to do it without saying anything himself that could be seen as critical or unprofessional.

If Shakespeare’s Richard III were your coworker, he would take a lot of smoke breaks in the parking lot, and if you ever ran out to grab something from your car, you’d hear him talking to himself there, too. And if you happened to bring up that smoking is bad for the lungs, he would say, “Good counsel” in a way that would make your blood run cold.

If Shakespeare’s Richard III were your coworker, he would have lots of hedgehog memes printed out and taped to the wall of his cubicle, because someone who no longer works here called him a hedgehog once as an insult, and rather than letting it go he decided to own it. There would be no other decorative elements in his cubicle except for a stiffly posed family photo from around 2004.

If Shakespeare’s Richard III were your coworker, he would always be cruising Twitter on his phone during staff meetings, because he’s extremely intentional about maintaining his social media image.

If Shakespeare’s Richard III were your coworker, he would very quickly become the CEO thanks to the massive turnover at your company, but then he would be forced to resign due to a buyout, and he would clear out his office and be gone before the disengaged HR department got around to sending out the “Join us in wishing Richard luck as he embarks on a career change!” email. Which is just as well, because Shakespeare’s Richard III doesn’t want your pity.