I have referred to this office in the past as "The Clown Car." It's four of us in one small enclosed space, and it reminds me of that stunt in the circus when clown after clown piles out of the car.
Lately it's felt more like a holdover from the phonebooth stuffing craze of the late 1950s.
No matter which analogy I use, it leaves me exhausted.
One of my coworkers is always
on the phone, whispering to her friends and family. I don't mind that. It's none of my business what she does or who she speaks to. It's just that she's so dramatic
about being discreet that it's not discreet, and there's something sibilant about her whispered s's that just cuts through any ambient noise and makes my skin crawl a little.
Another of my coworkers can be very negative* and really doesn't speak to anyone but me. Literally. If I'm not in he doesn't talk to the other two. There's one of our merry band of four that he especially shuns because he's thinks that gentleman is stupid. This makes me feel bad, so I feel compelled to overcompensate by being especially blabby and inclusive. I feel responsible for keeping the mood up.
It's a lot, you know? I have to be engaged, on display, all day every day. I can't dig in there with a tissue, pick my teeth or fix my bra, no matter how surreptitiously, because someone is always within a yard from me. Someone can always see me or hear me. And there's always someone I can reach out and touch ... whether I want to or not.
And it weighs on me. To the point that when I leave here, I don't care if I see or speak to anyone.
I feel bad complaining about this, after complaining about not wanting to lose my job, but it's an issue in my life right now and this blog is all about reflecting who I am on any given day.
*Though it must be said he's always fair to and supportive of me.