They often walk down high school corridors naked.
They host cocktail parties full of nonsensical groupings of people, including that flight attendant who refused to get them another ginger ale on a trip to Austin seven years ago and their co-worker Gary’s dad.
After a breakup they become obsessed with getting their pilot’s license and going bungee jumping six times a week.
New project at work? They’re bringing an uncomfortable amount of birth and baby metaphors to the presentation rather than any statistics.
They always carry a set of dentures on them in case their teeth start crumbling and falling out over a Chipotle burrito bowl.
If they sleep through an alarm they enter a mental tailspin that engulfs the next three weeks of their life and usually culminates in them losing everything dear to them.
They constantly enroll in continuing education classes only to blank out and fail the optional exams repeatedly.
When you try to talk to them about scheduling their performance review, they take off running frantically down the hallway and insist loudly that you’re chasing them.
They pursue inappropriate sexual relationships with people ranging from their mail carrier to a college roommate they haven’t spoken to in ten years to the nun they had for fourth grade math.
If you make them feel trapped they’ll kill you.