I sit in an open space that I share with three other people, which in and of itself can sometimes be a little grating on one’s nerves. I really like my coworkers, thankfully, but every so often I need a little private time because I’m sort of a freak like that…I’m not so good with people being in my personal space—which unfortunately,when sitting out in the open, sort of comes with the territory.
In our open space, we have a basket of candy that stays full at all times. We are known for fuelling our entire ad agency with mini-snickers at all hours of day and night—sometimes we walk in the next morning and know that a late night was had because the basket will be in dire need of refilling.
There are two things that I did not know about myself until I started sitting in this open space.
The first: I absolutely abhor most people. Abhor them.
Why, you ask?
People come in, looking for candy. That’s fine—come in, take the candy, and fuck off. Why, oh why the need for the fucking small talk? There’s a few types of small talkers that we encounter.
#1: The under-the-breath talker: This person comes into our space, and insists on muttering under their breath what they hope to find in the basket. While rummaging around, they feel the need to whisper to no one in particular what it is that they feel like eating or not eating. Shut the hell up. Nobody cares.
#2: The bellower: The more arrogant of the candy eaters. They walk in, shout out loud that they are taking some candy (again, who gives a shit. That’s what it’s there for. Eat. Eat.) and sometimes even exclaim that the selection isn’t so great on any given day. On one occasion when I just wasn’t in the mood, a particular bellower announced that what we had to offer kinda sucked. I yelled back, “Maybe you’d like to bring in your own candy next time.” He didn’t come back after that. Mothafucka.
#3: The I-Swear-I-Didn’t-Just-Come-In-For-Candy phony: This person drives me nuts, because they come in and start making inane conversation for a few minutes before sidling up to the candy basket. No matter how busy we look, or how uninterested we are, the chatter continues for a good, solid 3 minutes. Dude, the candy’s free. Just take it. You don’t need to pay for it with your charm and wit (insert sarcasm here).
The other thing that I didn’t know about myself is that the sound of crackling paper makes my skin crawl. You wanna see the Cheese’s head spin? Crackle some candy wrappers near me. Just try it. Even better, crackle some candy wrappers while muttering names of chocolate under your breath. Watch the men in white coats drag me away, a permanent scream emoting from the bowels of my soul.
Just a word of warning.