I just cannot stand listening to the chewing. It makes me want to put pencils in my ears and slam the side of my head down on my desk. The disgusting thing (who the hell am I kidding: this whole thing is nauseating) is that whatever it is that he is eating is wrapped in plastic, smells like processed food, and in addition to him smacking his lips and licking it to death or whatever in the holy hell is going on over there, I get to hear the crinkle of plastic as he slowly unwraps and savours it.Like, I don't mind working with him. Like everyone else I work with, I know a lot about his life and he talks mostly exclusively about himself - and I've ceased to care about that because I've come to the stalwart conclusion that people fundamentally suck and the art of conversation is dead - but when it comes to having to collaborate to get things done (oh my god, he is slurping tea now) we get on quite well. He doesn't overburden me, he's patient with questions, he handles stress well, and he is respectful of my time.
But back to knowing about his life. I know he plays cricket and that is a passion of his, but for someone that is supposedly athletic, he eats crap food constantly and is overweight. Additionally, he keeps the heat cranked so high that it is headache inducing and often falls asleep at his desk.
Again, I have given up mentioning anything about my life because I have simply ceased to care, but today the opportunity did present itself when we were talking about the weather. He mentioned that it was supposed to be nice this weekend and I said "I hope so: I have a race this weekend", but he and the receptionist proceeded to talk over me. So, okay. SMH.
Speaking of the race, however, I made the sad mistake of looking up the winning times and my prior half times would see me place in my age division. If this were 2013. And I hadn't taken three years off of racing. So goddammit: I really wish I hadn't looked it up. The last time I looked up the possibility of placing, I ended up realizing I could win the damn marathon and just utterly stewed about it for weeks. And then won the marathon.
Now I know that if I had taken my training seriously, had started earlier, had worked on speed and hills so I could come in in my "normal range" I could have placed. That level of pressure (that I put on myself) is one of the reasons I stepped away from it for so long. I tried to run for fun. I love that I'm back at square one and I'm mentally trying to talk myself down from this, and to try and accept (what to me will be) a substandard time.
Anyways. I'm sure I'll blog about it after it's all said and done. Fah. I didn't anticipate my return to running to be this anxiety inducing.
Ha ha. Of course I did.
Can you not talk to HR about his eating habits? Maybe they can send out a company wide memo "no eating in work spaces!" I would love for my Principal to tell people to clean their work areas. I think my co-worker who sits to the right of me is a hoarder. At least her part of the long counter we use as a desk looks like a hoarder works there. Who needs 3 dozen pens with the heads of Disney characters crammed in a pen holder? Who needs a 18x24in framed charcoal drawing of the Cheshire Cat on her desk? How about a paper calendar that she X's out each day with not just a hot pink highlighter but also a lime green and neon orange. And SO much personal shit! It's not your home, it's a work area, make it look like it. T minus 2 years, and 15 weeks!!! I'm in count down.
ReplyDeleteYeah, there's really only three support staff in the office and our collective boss. No HR to speak of. I just don't understand how no one has ever not told him to STFU. Or how a middle aged man thinks that eating at that decibel level is acceptable. Shudder.
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