Coffee. If you finish a pot, you make another. It’s not rocket science. It’s common courtesy and/or the rules of any organized society that doesn’t want me to go on a machete rampage with Chinese throwing stars to boot.
(Actually, this isn’t true, we don’t have water coolers…)
A few days ago, I wore the same color shirt as one or two people in the office. If have happen to work in an office with comic geniuses like I do, you can guess what I heard quite a few times that day. That’s right Banana Republic sells more than one of these!!!
Instead of going with my first instinct of immediately pulling my hair out in a fit of rage (see right), I exercised restraint. Do people really find it necessary and/or funny to say these things? Their lame attempts at humor are the gateway to forced small talk where my feigned interest dwindles with each passing story about their children. I am too lazy to put a link to my previous post about how much I detest small talk in general. Feel free to find it.My father has firsthand experience with this next one. I would literally scream like an irate ethnic woman at the grocery store who has expired coupons when he would leave the microwave LED with a flashing :23 seconds or something queer bait like that. What is so hard about letting a microwave run all the way out? Or is it impossible to just manually type in the time you want?! This is just one of a few things that will be a contributing factor to my heart attack at 34 and/or explanation for my new D&G eye patch since stabbing myself with a fork is the only logical course of action.
A lot of my job involves phone work with client’s who are well aware of our location in Dallas. Phone small talk is probably worse than water boarding or a pap smear from Edward Scissor-Hands. If you want to know about the weather, the Cowboys, or the Rangers, google someone who cares. I am more than happy to help you with my job responsibilities, but caring about any of the above is not one of them!
And, yes. I use a rotary phone at work...
3 comments:
your rotary phone has 12 numbers on it. i think you might have mistakenly drawn a clock with a handset attached to it.
you're not original
http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2010/09/four-levels-of-social-entrapment.html#links
I doubt either of us were the first people to complain about small talk.
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