I can't take it any more. I just can't take it! I tried to keep an open mind about having an officemate again. I honestly wanted to believe she would be as fun as her predecessor, Jen. Alas, it was not to be.
It's not her personality, mind you. Well, it is, a little. She has a tendency to suddenly start chatting about stupid things. Which is fine. It breaks up the monotony. But, her timing is all wrong. She starts blabbing at the exact moment I'm at my busiest, or worse, on the phone.
But, it's the nose blowing that's sending me over the edge.
She suffers from allergies, which isn't her fault I guess, but still. I mean, this girl, I think, actually enjoys her allergies. I think she believes that her allergies somehow make her special. She takes pride in her nose blowing.
You have not heard a nose being blown until you have heard this woman blow her nose. She really gets into it. It's her own personal nose blowing religion. I would be fine with it if it was one of those wet, sloppy sounding nose blowings that bespeak of a truly suffering soul.
But, no, her nasal discharges, which occur with a regularity that could make atomic clocks obsolete, are high-pitched, dry, ear-shattering trumpets that could no doubt set every elephant on the serengeti into rapturous sexual frenzies.
They come in threes, these nasty nose chimes. I'll be sitting here, vigorously tapping out a technical article, when suddenly the air is pierced by the first of her nasal ejaculations. It's disconcerting, to be sure, but it's even more disconcerting to know that two more are sure to follow. Sure enough, in quick succession, two more nose eruptions echo through our office chamber.
Even my managing editor, who happened to be in the office once when my officemate issued forth one of her trademark nasal triumvirates, had to admit that her nose blowing was unusually loud, with a "unique" sound. My managing editor then went back to the blissful silence of her her own office domain, leaving me to the ear splitting explosions of Jumbo.
And now, NOW, she's added a cough. Starting late last week, she started this strange, hollow cough. Like her nose blowing, her coughing has its own unique sound. Unlike her nose blowing, however, her coughing has no set time-frame. She'll just start this staccato hacking that almost always takes me by surprise and causes me to mash my keyboard.
I tell you, I really don't know how much longer I can take this. It's like trying to work in a nursing home, except there's only one patient, and that patient wants the whole world to know they're coughing and blowing their nose.
The best part? We found out today that, come June, our magazine staff will be moved to a cubicle farm. How will her nose blowing and coughing go over in the compromised privacy of Cubicleland?
Expect a lot of IBM resignations next summer. That's all I'm saying.
Posted by Ryan at September 17, 2003 10:26 AM
Stumble It!
