It's lunchtime. And I want to go to DSW but it's too cold out and I feel like suffering through two blocks of 55 degree weather will cripple my ability to effectively shop for warm weather footwear.
So I have been loudly complaining this week about how little people in close proximity to my work space offer up humorously relevant small talk about their lives. I like to walk through their work areas saying things like
"wow, this room is on fire with fun today!" or
"yeah - me too!" or
"seriously people? is this a Cambodian penal colony? wtf?"
So far they haven't bitten. No one wants to have fun office banter with me. Possibly I am the office asshat and they are trying to inform me of that news through alpha brain waves and constipated looks. I respond as if I am a golden retriever and they have the tennis ball. I am excitedly expectant, yet in a constant state of gracious succorance as to not make them feel bad for being so densely unaware of 'where the fun's at.'
This is not my first ungrateful audience. At my last job it took them 6 months to arrive at both banal chit-chat and coordinated eye contact. You have to know that I thought this was a psychological test at week two. It was like a monk's Survivor Island. Everything in my being rejected the deadening silence. I became bitter and (more) inwardly sarcastic. I created names and unfortunate life stories for the people who would not befriend me.
"Oh, there's Sharon. Looks like her IBS is acting up again. So dangerous for her to mix barbiturate intake with hot sauce on top of bowel issues and expect to make it through the town hall forum multi-cast un-noticed."
Ultimately they gave in to knowing me... but I never fully forgot all of their pre-stories. Just kinda added the real to what I had initially developed.
At my new office I have two chatty girlfriends but it seems fate (or really strategic management) has positioned us at 3 of the four corners of the office. The longest physical distance possible from each other - barring us from uniting to waste time. So cruel. Some times we call and plan to meet up in the kitchen. But it's so forced.
In an effort to keep up correspondence between the three we contrive Victorian era tea games like "add your funny comment to this ugly postcard and pass it on to the next person" or "think of 5 qualities of the group you'd least like to spend the day with!"
My answers to that one were:
- freebirth loving (yes, the freaks with the baby pools in their homes)
- alpaca-wool-directly-on-the-skin wearing
- renaissance fair loving
- Pampered Chef vending f*ckwits (if I am going to a party at your home I should not be required to buy something otherwise it should not be considered a party and instead a poorly capitalized and understaffed flea market)
I'll let you know what other people say is theirs when they come in. I mean the only two other people that asked this nonsensical query of.
I wonder what level of nightmare co-worker I actually am. Not that I'd change a thing - but perspective is so interesting.
Okay, I'm going back out there to annoy them some more.