"There's One in Every Family, Sire. TWO in Mine, Actually..."

He inspires strangely Nabokovian angst, making everyone in sight groan exasperatedly, "Really?...Really?! Yeesh!"

Okay, maybe that's a bit of a stretch. (Seriously. Me saying "Yeesh"? You all know I have no problem working way bluer than that.) But while much of my tenure in DC has been good--including but certainly not limited to my work, which I was very nervous about at the onset--I am already growing weary of something on which I think all corporate peons can relate to me.

I am currently entering week four of a five-week intensive classroom training session to be a background investigator. It was insanely overwhelming at first, but as I've become more comfortable with the material, built a rapport with my instructors, and made some nice friendships amongst my classmates, it's become easier and more pleasant. That last part is particularly helpful since, of the thirteen people who are in this session, at least eight of them are in their twenties as well. Yay peer group!

Of course, the problem is that there were still four other people in class who are not our age. And while I'm not exactly a fan of broad stereotyping, the truth is that this job, which is very much computer-intensive, is proving to be much more of a challenge for the old folks than it is for us young whippersnappers.

Consider this: of the four elder statespeople, two of them combined at one point during the first week to generate easily 90% of all the questions asked of our instructors. Now, don't get me wrong: I've asked my share of questions myself, and I certainly don't judge anyone who does because, for the most part, there really are no stupid questions--especially when you're learning something new and radically different for the very first time. But when we were shown a program three days ago, and you still don't know how to open a damn file? Well, sir, maybe this job just isn't for you.

What's really interesting is that this whole thing proved too much for one of this dynamic duo, who resigned from our class and switched positions in the company to better accommodate his abilities. (And I sincerely wish him all the best.) But as it turns out, question askers are like testicles. When one of the testicles needs to be excised--for whatever horrid, unfortunate, devastating reason--the lone nut psychically takes over and performs double duty, so that the, er, output doesn't suffer any noticeable change. So it is with question askers. With his partner in crime gone, the lone confused older gentleman somehow managed to pick up that slack and ask even more dumb questions than he did before.

And so he has become...That Guy.

You know what I mean...

That Guy who takes three and a half hours to do what everyone else was able to complete in roughly two hours.

That Guy who mumbles, hums, and narrates to himself while he struggles in the seat behind you, distracting your attention while you try desperately to beat the goddamn poker game on your BlackBerry.

That Guy who insists upon talking to you when you're trying to read because God forbid you have one quiet moment to enjoy your book, damn it.

Yup. That Guy.

I could go on but, really, I think we've all known someone like that. Hell, maybe you are That Guy yourself. If you think you might be, please, do us all a favor and STFU already. We'd really appreciate it.

Of course, I bet I know what you're all wondering. Who is That Guy?

What? I didn't mention it right off that bat? I thought I did. Hmm... Well, it's probably best to just keep it hidden away to myself.

But believe me, he's there. And who's got two thumbs and can't freaking wait to get out of classroom training as a result?

This Guy.