I wouldn’t say I’m not a morning person, but I’m definitely not Susie Sunshine when it comes to the pre-noon hours. And this is so very evident when it comes to my time at the office.
There are some people who, when I walk into our little cube farm, are like this:
Every time. Without fail. It’s not because they harbor some inappropriate obsession with me. They are just that perky. About everything. And, oh my gosh, they just can’t wait to tell you.
After being excited about their cat being adorable or how it’s not raining or that marshmallows are really tasty in hot cocoa, they start in on you.
How was your day? How was your weekend? What’d you have for dinner? Oh, you like that show, too? I’ve loved it since FOREEEVVVERRRRR. Where’d you get that skirt? How ARE you?
Somewhere around the second question, I start to feel conflicted. On one hand, I am desperately trying to put forth minimal effort in answering those questions while somehow trying to ignore that the conversation is actually happening. On the other, I am mentally willing the Perky Pamela of the day to just disappear, stop talking, or develop some sort of sudden onset muteness.
While I am glad to have the job I do now, I do sometimes miss the job I had last year where I worked from home. The job itself, in spite of the salary, was just not worth it, but oh… the bliss of working from home.
I would wake up at a reasonable time, and the only company I had was our dog, Horatio.
Mini-sized Horatio, circa April 2008.
You know what was great about Horatio? He looks cute, cuddles, and does not ask me stupid questions. Granted since he was a puppy at that time, he was scared to jump off the sofa, so he would pee on it… but I deemed it an acceptable trade off for the blessed silence.
Horatio did not ask questions. Horatio did not ask me if I wanted company every time I stepped away from my work area. And I kid you not, someone asked me if I wanted company on my break not ten seconds ago, right after writing that sentence. I hadn’t even gotten up from my desk or indicated that I planned to.
While I love my cubicle and love the people I work with, some days I long to be sitting at our dining room table with my laptop doing work. I have some friends with these fabulously interesting telecommuting jobs, and I wish I knew how they snagged them, heh.
In summation, if you found your perky behavior being described in these passages, do not fret. Follow this simple set of instructions.
1. Close your mouth.
2. Keep it closed.
I feel like such a party-pooping nudge, but oh well. Everyone has their thing I suppose.