If You Want to Talk Behind My Back, I'd Be Happy to Turn Around

I'm pleasant to everyone at work for my own selfish purposes. If you've every gone to work in a lousy mood it's exhausting. It's exhausting to stay irritated and/or miffed for a whole day. I've always wanted to do nothing but writing. So any other job I've ever had has always been a chore. Virtually all the non-writing jobs I've had over my working lifetime have been the same. Once you learn it you learn it. It never changes. So from around the third month at the job to say six or seven years into it, (should I last that long), the monotony and boredom have built to a fever pitch. This all may sound negative but it's really not. It's survival. When I'm at work, I try to be as sincerely pleasant and helpful as I can be. The day goes easier for me that way. I can even be downright friendly within reason. A smattering of coworkers over the 23 or so jobs I've had I would even classify as friends. But as for the majority, at my latest stint for example: I've worked with them for five years and have averaged six words a day over those five years: "Good morning. Have a good night." The end.

Last week my post was about how I float into other people's cubicles at work uninvited and unannounced. I barge right into the middle of their conversation and offer advice that nobody asked for and, by the expressions on their faces, clearly nobody wants. (You'd think being aware that I do this would be the first step to correcting my behavior. Of course you're assuming I think my behavior needs correcting.) So this seems like a clash. First I say I mind everybody's busy and now I'm telling you I don't want to talk to anybody. Basically, I talk to people when it suits me. And I butt into their business to keep them out of mine.

And just like they couldn't care less about my unsolicited advice, I couldn't care less that they couldn't care less. A coworker came to me the other day on the verge of tears. She said that she had walked in on a cluster of fellow employees (apparently innocently walked in on them, not like me cannonball-diving in) and everybody looked awkward and stopped talking while their eyes shifted all over the place. She told me that she'd sensed for a long time that these women didn't like her and now she was sure that her worst fears had been confirmed.

In my most compassionate, heartfelt tone I said: "Who the fk cares?" To not further hurt her feelings, I had to clarify that I meant "Who the fk cares" if those idiots talked about her not "Who the fk cares" about what you're telling me. Of course I actually felt about 50/50.

The best thing you can do for me if you don't like me and keeping it to yourself is out of the question, is talk behind my back. Especially if you're just one of those "Good Morning", "Have a Good Night" people in my life. In fact, if I drift into one of your private conversations to offer my uncalled for opinion and you want to get rid of me, start talking about me. I'll be happy to leave... or at least turn around.