Confined Spaces

7 Nov

My co-workers and I were informed today that we are moving.  Part of me is dreading it but another part of me is excited.  I say this because the current area we work in is a morgue.

Well, it’s not really a morgue but it might as well be.  You can hear a pin drop in this place.  Cough or sneeze and it echoes across the floor.  Heaven forbid you unwrap a piece of candy or be hungry for lunch.  Everyone in a 100 foot radius will hear.

There are the cube neighbors I will not miss.  Mrs. Annoying Laugh and Mr. Phlegm will no longer be surrounding and torturing me with their little “quirks”.  We won’t have to whisper anymore and tiptoe around so we don’t annoy the executives whose offices are right outside our cubes.

However, with all the excitement, I’m faced with the reality of my co-workers and the confining space.  You see, these two team members are guys.  I am a woman.  Enough said.

It’s bad enough they’re within throwing distance now.  The new room will put them well into the invasion of my personal space.  One of the guys is pretty calm and quiet.   The other, however, is like the little brother I never wanted.  A giant pain in the ass.

He’s already threatened to go on a chili diet and munch on onions for a snack.  His music choice is heavy metal and musicals and his form of entertainment is torturing me.  I’m wondering who I pissed off at this company to have been placed in this situation.

So, I’ll have to combat the invasion of the males with lots of potpourri, flowers, and pictures of my daughter, puppies and kittens.  And if that doesn’t make them squirm, I’ll play my Whitney Houston/Celine Dion song list.

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