This morning I spent half of my commute wishing I had a time machine so I could go back in time to last Thursday and pour mashed potatoes and gravy all over my hair and face (again), and the other half wishing everyone would stop fucking complaining about how much they ate on Thanksgiving, and just be thankful that they had food to eat and didn't spend the day working a twenty hour shift for three pennies making shoelaces in a Pakistani sweatshop. Wah wah wah, so what, you ate a lot, stop declaring to the world your insecurities and go do pilates or whatever quietly and stop fishing for fucking compliments on Facebook.
So, as I was returning from my daze and entering my building, I saw three people chatting away in front of the security turnstiles. I'm sure their conversation was about something thought-provoking and not just three mouths spouting inane nonsense about their stupid fucking kids. But my problem doesn't lie with what they were chatting about. For all I care, they could have been hatching a plan to lure me into a maintenance room with promises of Skittles and then garrote me with piano wire. Good, fine, kill me, because I don't really care if they spend their mornings having roundtable discussions in the lobby. No, my problem lies with their decision to have an impromptu conversation to the inconvenience of every single person trying to mope their way to the office, because they were blocking the turnstiles to get inside. The way I figured it, I had two options - 1) run them over like I was motherfucking Bo Jackson giving the business to Brian Bosworth, or 2) Politely ask them to move. Oh wait, did I mention option #2A, which is to just slide between them in a Matrix-like-move and watch as their jaws dangle in awe of my physical prowess? Yeah, I didn't mention that, because it's a fucking stupid option, and yet, it's the one I chose. So when I shuffled between them and muttered "excuse me," I could feel the trio staring crookedly at me.
But why? What did I really do? Did I ruin the mojo of Sally retelling her story of how her Great Aunt tumbled down the stairs and everyone laughed and laughed until they realized she shattered her hip and needed medical attention? Or did I interrupt Jack's story about how he spent the weekend with his in-laws, and boy are they tough to deal with! Wucka-wucka, I hope your bow-tie spins so fast it chops your head off. Or was Lily talking about how much she hates her cousin with the eating disorder? Geez, Lily, give it a rest, the girl is fucking sick. Anyway, all of these people need to take their dirty looks and fall over a parade barricade.
In an office setting, pop-up meetings are a common occurrence. People will just stop and have a pow wow wherever the fuck they please. I especially love it when these meetings occur near my desk, where I assume all parties involved are half-deaf and scared of catching malaria, because they are standing an awkward distance away from each-another and shouting back and forth. Makes sense - why take a stroll down to a common area to talk when you can scream and yell and make everyone around you wish a meteor crashed through the roof and landed on your face?
I've been ambushed many times during lunch or getting coffee by multiple people, looking to have a quick meeting about blah blah blah. Why? Why can't this wait seven seconds? Look, I am an impatient person, I am very much like Mac from IASIP, because when someone is telling a long-winded story, all I can say in my brain is - C'MON C'MON C'MON C'MON - and flap my arms wildly. But I wait anyway, because it's polite to wait. As is not ambushing someone who is trying to take a break from going blind while staring at their computer with a request to talk about something said person doesn't give a fucking shit about. We all want immediate gratification, but it just doesn't exist. So why don't you take a fucking breather and have a goddamn snack or something?
And if you can't, then go have your meetings in a landfill, because you are garbage. That is all. Goodbye.
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