I’ve always worked in an open plan office. You could say, I guess, that I’m a herd animal who’s known no home except the wide expanse of the office floor; the skyline broken only by the scattered outcrops of cluttered desks and matching chairs. It’s tough out here in the open. The only way to survive is to steel yourself against many a terror and lurking dangers.
Too dramatic? Probably.
I have a lot of issues with the eating habits of others. Apparently it’s meant to signify some kind of mental disorder, being as grossed out by other people’s eating as I am. I prefer think of it as having taste. And manners. And taste. There are several foods that should be banned from the office (banned, no exceptions). Prime culprits? Fish and eggs for their hideous, hideous smell and apples because the crunch of people biting into them makes me violent. It’s not an issue, it’s sanity, ok?
I’ve been guilty of having personal conversations in the office, but I try avoid the several-times-a-day, never-ending conversations. No one wants to hear you dissect that fight you had with your guy, the shopping list to your man or listen to you bicker with your mom. No one. Not even your best friend (no really, she hates these conversations as much as I do).
And on that note, if you’re a Whatsapp/BBM queen, for the love of all things soft and furry, TURN OFF THE VOLUME. Especially if your message tone is that annoying Samsung whistle. Or that BBM chime.
Bad Mood Anger Clouds
Everyone, everyone, got problems. Some days it’s hard to separate them and leave them outside the door, but for heaven’s sake try. And if you’re having a bad day because you broke up with your guy or your mom’s really sick or the milk was off when you made your coffee and it was basically like cottage cheese frappé, don’t take it out on other people. Sure, I’m not suggesting a share circle where you tell everyone your woes and then we hug it out after, but I am suggesting that if you don’t want to to talk about it, you don’t make it anyone else’s problem.
Music Hour…Every Hour
I’m not really someone who listens to music while I work. A lot of what I do involves words (duh), so listening to lyrics confuses me and then I have no idea what I’m writing or who I am or if I’m the real Slim Shady, yes I’m the real Shady, All you other Slim Shadys are just imitating. If you’re going to inflict your music choices upon other people, at least have good taste. Top 40? Fine. Rock? I can dig. Instrumental? I get dig that jam. Trance or house? Just don’t.
If you’re a current/past coworker, fear not. If you think I’m talking about you in this post, I probably am. Jokes. (Not jokes).