There’s a woman at work — a year out of college and in her first professional job as a paralegal — who, some times, makes me want to just slap her silly.
Why? She’s nice. No, not the pleasant, you’re-glad-you-know-them sort of person that we all know. Rather, the insufferable pleasant kind of nice. You know exactly the person I’m talking about: every single day she greets you with a big, saccharine-filled smile and asks in a chipper tone, “Good morning! How are you doing?”
Before you’ve had a cup of coffee.
This woman is my bane, my arch nemesis, without even knowing it. I’m a “leave me the hell alone” sort of person usually, especially first thing in the morning. I don’t want to make small talk with her in the best of circumstances, let alone in a pre-caffeinated state. She makes matters worse because she used to sit in the office next to mine, and one day saw me reading a New York Rangers game-day email, and proceeded to stand in my office talking about the Rangers for half an hour despite my trying to show I needed to do something. Anything.
So now I have to duck conversations about the Rangers on top of everything else — me, who loves to talk about this team. One trick I’ve taken to using is putting on my wireless headset before walking out of my office and pretending I’m on a call, using hand motions to show I can’t talk. That doesn’t normally enter my head first thing in the morning, though, because well, I need my damned coffee before I can talk coherently.
Naturally, she ambushed me this morning in the kitchen area, asking if I’d seen the Ranger game last night (I didn’t, I was working late). All I could do was stand there and mumble something about being tired from working late and needing to get my coffee. She babbled on the entire time I was pouring my coffee.
I beat a hasty retreat.
Jeebus save me.