Friday, November 30, 2007

Guess I made quota. Where's my bonus?

Oh, that's right, no one pays me for this. I think it is worth noting, however, that I have managed to write more posts this year than any other, even after avoiding the blog altogether for several months (it turns out that I was on a hiking trip across the Appalachian trail and had no internet access).

There is not a whole lot of talking done in this office. Aside from occasional conversations with the Dunkin' Donuts guy about how cold it is outside or a smile and hello from the parking attendant next to my office, my vocal chords don't get a lot of exercise during work hours. My favorite days have to be when I'm stuck in the elevator with a stranger from another office in our building and get to enjoy eight seconds or more of awkward, strained conversation. What most people find to be one of the pitfalls of an office environment, I look forward to on a daily basis. I appear to be the most high-spirited employee in the building because I jump at any chance to propel a conversation with a stranger as far as time permits while anticipating that familiar "ding" of an elevator arriving at your floor. I am excited at the prospect of learning someone else's name in this building, and use it as often as possible. Example:

Stranger who has just introduced himself as Eric: Thank God it's Friday, huh?
Me: I know - right, Eric?! Thank God! I'm so hungover!
Eric: You look like you could use some coffee.
Me: I've already had three cups!!! Hey, do you work in the office next to ours?? I can always hear music playing in your office! You guys sound like you're having fun!!
Eric: Oh yeah, we play music all the time. In fact, one of the guys is bringing in some beer at 3.
Me: No way!! That is so cool! Hey do you mind if I [door to Eric's office closes] er..."

While I've certainly done my share of complaining about the annoyances of office socialization in the past (awkward pizza parties in the hallway and bring-your-baby-to-work day spring to mind), I have found that I actually miss them. I haven't forgotten a certain coworker who considered the fact that I wore my hair in a ponytail to work one day to be a good indicator that something terrible had just befallen me. But just sometimes, I wouldn't mind if someone noticed when I came into work at half past nine with my hair in a messy ponytail, heading my dehydrated self straight for the water cooler and knowing that could only mean one thing (probably too much exercise).

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