Tuesday, November 27, 2007

open concept work update

Note: I attempted to draw a diagram to make this post more understandable, but that went horribly wrong. I was going to add it anyway, just for fun, but decided it would only distract.

Here's my current work sitch, based on a N-E-S-W grid:

N: The printer. Thank goodness. My father would tell you it's the most dangerous element of my workday but, despite all the swearing, slamming and exasperated breathing that happens there, it is relative sanity.

E: A woman who's been my neighbour for years and has spoken no more than 50 words to me, total.

S: Watch-my-birth-video, I-follow-my-kids'-schoolbus, people-suddenly-turn-gay colleague. While she amuses me, she is indisputably a bit unhinged. Today, in the midst of our office, she lifted her shirt for me, right to the neck. I've never been so happy to see someone wearing a bra. She did this, she told me with a big smile on her face, to show me the contraption she's been wearing that allows her doctor to monitor her for a possible mini-stroke. Or something like that. The surplus of bare skin may have prevented me from grasping the full story. So. Much. Bare. Skin.

W: Previously occupied by guy who married a Cuban woman (still living in Cuba) and then proceeded to spend a year of his (and my) life learning Spanish at his desk and discussing the possible courses of action with a myriad of immigration lawyers, friends and colleagues in great detail. One day he just disappeared. He may be in Cuba, or maybe not. It was incredibly dramatic at the time but I lost interest quickly. My travel Spanish now rocks though.

Yesterday, a new woman claimed the ex-Guantanamo Bay area. Her name is Rachel Rackale or Sarah Sloane or something equally pretentious with a superfluous E on the end. We've yet to exchange anything beyond hello. And yet, over the last two days I've managed to learn this about her:

- the credit limit on her Mastercard
- the amount owing on her Amex
- her son has ADD
- her daughter is terrified of speaking in public
- she needs to drink coffee every day at 2pm sharp
- she's fighting with her mom over how to celebrate her dad's birthday this year
- who she hates at work.

Most importantly, I know that she uses 'xylophone' as an example of usage of the letter Z, as in "no, Z, as in 'xylophone.'"

Does it not seem wrong that I know more about these people than I do about my actual friends and family? And am I correct in my occasional suspicions that there is a small man hiding in my plant, filming all of this for a bad reality TV show? Are you all watching it right now?



Marnie said...

I haven't actually caught your reality show (it conflicts with The Amazing Race) but I'm strangely tempted to start a blog called "Z As In Xylophone."

complain away said...

Lmao, Marnie. I think I've already added your new blog to my reader. Small detail that it doesn't exist yet.

I'm curious; how do you think she spells 'xylophone' in her mind? Maybe 'zailaphone' or 'zaylophone?' Or do you think it gets even crazier, like 'zaelofon?'

Marnie said...

Zlyophone. I bet anything she knows about the "y" but it makes her nervous and she puts it in the wrong place. Actually, I'm afraid to think about it much in case that starts to look like the correct spelling to me. Not that the word "xylophone" crops up a lot in my writing ...

complain away said...

Heh. I almost want to test her now just to see if you're right.

Judging by what I know about the state of her credit cards, I'd say spelling isn't the only thing that should be making her nervous.

(Sorry about the redundant comment here, but I'm still freaking out about the fact that I can say that, when she just moved in on Monday.)