"The Sports Section Bandit" aka Bob from I.T.

Many people, lets be honest mostly friends, have been asking me to post my comic strip "Casual Friday" online for some time now. However, I've found that a majority of the people who read my comics are even more interested in the real-life stories which inspired me to create the stars of Casual Friday: "Jimmy the Intern", "Ross the Boss" and "Bob from I.T." So with that, I give you my very first blog..."The Sports Section Bandit" aka Bob from I.T.

I created "Bob from I.T." after my first week at my new job. He's based on my company's jerk of a webmaster that is guaranteed to being doing 1 of 3 things, and none of them have anything to do with being a webmaster. He is either reading the sports section, stealing the sports section from somebody's cubicle, or bitching about how he can't find anyone with a paper to grab the sports section out of. “Doesn’t anyone around here gotta god damn paper!?” (His voice can only be truly appreciated by saying that line with a thick Chicago accent or your best Chris Farley impersonation.)

To the everyday schmo workin' the drive-thu at Krispy Kreame, you'd think Bob was a generous manager, pickin' up a dozen or so donuts on the way to work each day. That would also require the average schmo to look past the fact that he only buys one large coffee and is about 150lbs. overweight.

Every morning, after Bob downs 7 or 8 glazed goodies, his real workday begins. Like a bear tearing through some poor tourist campsite, growling and groaning, Bob huffs and puffs his way through numerous cubicles before eying his prized possession…a freshly wrapped morning newspaper atop an unattended desk. Again, using the bear and campsite reference, Bob rips through the paper’s protecting wrap, past the business, local and classifieds, and onto the Filet Mignon of newspaper sections…Sports. After the pilferage occurs, Bob quickly flees the scene, goes back to his den/office, shuts the door, reads the sports from front to back, and is nowhere to be seen for at least 3 hours…this is where I end the bear references, but the deuchebag in the corner says something like, “What, is he hibernating”?

Because I’ve never seen Bob come out of his office until after lunch, I’m led to believe that he either brown-bags it or gives his cholesterol some balance by finishing off the remaining 4 or 5 leftover donuts. At any rate, when he does decide to offer his afternoon appearance, everyone knows it. When Bob’s office door opens, the farted version of old sugar glaze and coffee beans fill the air.

Bob is short and fat, so you never see him walking through the cubicle maze, you just hear him making this noise, which to the untrained ear, would seem like he’s just clearing his throat, but I swear it’s just an uncontrollable noise his body makes in it’s attempt to create a third chin.
Bob usually makes small talk on his afternoon excursions, but most employees keep it short because they either actually have work to do, could care less about Bob’s sports section recap, or are disgusted at how Bob ignores the importance of wiping the now-crusted glaze from his mustache. In my case, it’s all three.