There are people at work here.

At work people go away on vacation. Some of them you genuinely miss because they're your boss (a.k.a. the person that serves as a buffer for countless questions that are otherwise asked of you-who-the-askers-know-is-unqualified-to-proffer-an-answer-but-they-still-ask-anyway) or better, they're your lunch/goof off buddy. Other workplace vacationers just make you think about how much you're going to miss the quiet they left behind when they inevitably return. 

Two of these vacationers came back. I high-fived my boss as I shared last week's lottery happenings (we won $100), and my lunch/goof off buddy got a hug. But the other one came back and suddenly I was aware of how much I genuinely did not miss them:  Person-lady just came to my desk and unleashed a 2-minute blah-blah about something that is clearly laid out on the piece of paper that has since been left upon my desk.

 

This 2-minute blah-blah included obvious, annoying, give-me-your-undivided-attention sighing, which is chief among my grievances. The world needn't stop just because you have, person-lady; you aren't my axis. Anyway, the sighing that took place far, far too close to my tea cup was followed by “see-here” pointing upon said piece of paper. I love show-and-tell as much as the next person, but spare me. It’s in black and white and contrary to any BET spots, I can and actually do read. (Oh, see one of the BET commercials here but PLEASE be mindful of the profanity.)

 

On the whole though? It was one in an apparently endless series of interactions that should have been the briefest of encounters. 

Why do I have an inbox if you insist upon waving and ushering every piece of paper into my hand, in my chair or on my keyboard? You walk by my desk, you see the inbox that sits at the very end, you drop it, you don’t even have to halt your step. 

There is no need to turn into my office space and yip just because you haven’t had a chance to talk at (with this person it's always as if the talking is "at" me, never "to." We do not converse.) me this morning. I am not going to inquire about your vacation as I am decidedly uninterested and do not want this to turn into yet another opportunity for you to make some pea-brained segue into this week’s story about the cat to whom, as I’ve already informed you several times before, I am allergic.

My point is that I was working. I had my serious working face on (astonishing, I know) and I did not at all appreciate the intrusion ... especially since I knew it was going to be about more nothing than an episode of Seinfeld. She also knew she had nothing to say, but felt that since we'd not yet spoken this morning, this was her golden opportunity. I don't care about your tan. I'm tan three-sixty-five damnit.

All I'm wishing is that when you see someone working diligently, pray -- let them continue! This is precisely what's wrong with me-me work people who have casual, que sera sera/laissez-faire attitudes -- they fail to note that it's not all about them. We're just dots in a continuum otherwise known as the work process. No one else revolves around them or hovers in their midst waiting for their gravitational pull. No. Everyone else respects their space and other people's and I just wish that for once, when I wasn't even looking for a distraction, I could've been left alone. But no, my tea cup had to be invaded by a gratuitous exhaler.

People.