In keeping with my promise to myself to occasionally write of things other than my children, I would like to bitch for a while about a certain population of individuals that torments and terrorizes offices everywhere: the “I’m sick but here I am anyway because I’m a trooper and very important” drama queens. I’m going to generalize and use the word “queen” because these individuals are most often women.
Sniffing precisely every second and a half like a mucous metronome. Shaking pill bottles as if they were maracas. The voice which sounds like death whenever someone stops by to check on her or she has to answer her desk phone, yet miraculously clears up when her cell phone rings or a secretary comes by to gossip about another secretary who didn’t check the mail even though it was her turn. **Gasp** It’s just so dramatic and over the top. I’m surprised they don’t whip out bubo pasties in some cases to really show how ill they are. The performance itself is typically only overshadowed by how remarkable the recovery is. It is true performance art, now playing in a cubicle near you.
Now, those of you who have been with me for a while will notice at least a smidge of hypocrisy creeping in. Yes, there was that time I went to work ill as outlined in https://larva225.wordpress.com/2012/10/22/bristle-while-you-work/ But that was only one time. And I wasn’t contagious. And I had a good reason (escaping my daughter). The ladies I’m talking about are chronic offenders.
(I should note that the old man I referenced in the above blog is no longer with us. I don’t necessarily mean he has shuffled off this mortal coil but he had a very unfortunate day at the office and left never to return. He actually pooped on the floor. Normally this would be sad but this man was so gross and obnoxious – even without the poop – that we were just glad to see him get the hell out and never come back.)
I guess it’s just one of those office things. Someone is always going to be an ass or an irritant. You get the SOBs who microwave fish in the break room or cut their fingernails in their cube. There’s usually a chronic popcorn burner. You get the jackass who cockblocks everyone else from using the copier because they’re making church flyers (on a state copier, damn it!!). There are the people who use the bathroom stalls as phone booths (shudder). Someone will play their headphones and sing aloud. It’s an office. It’s not a fucking musical.
It’s a good thing I’m about to go on vacation.