Mayhap Murder

I work in a large cube-farm with offices lining the walls. I am fortunate in that I am in one of the wall offices with a window. I am not so fortunate that I share it with two other people, one of whom smells.

No, honestly, he doesn’t smell. He does mutter a lot though and he covets my mouse pad. God help him if he touches my mouse pad! It has a picture of a kitten on it. With a machine gun. Hence the coveting.

Okay, I’ll stop there. They’re both really good guys and there’s no coveting or smelling or inappropriate touching or muttering or holding of one’s pets for ransom. It is, all in all, a harmonious arrangement. Baking, of all things, sometimes happens.

NOTE: I have no idea if they read these. Let’s hope for a ‘no.’

However, one thing that kinda bugs me is when I pass one of them in the hall. We normally do this at least two or three times as day, as we all having meetings and stabbings to attend. The first pass of the day, we usually say ‘hi.’ The second pass, we generally nod. If it happens a third time, there are embarrassed smiles.

The fourth time though, we have no idea what to do. We just kinda avert our eyes and pretend not to notice each other, even though one of us has obviously just taken the last donut from the kitchen. It’s downright awkward with extra ‘awk.’

We have literally run out of socially acceptable ways to acknowledge each other’s presence. I fear that one day, we may pass a fifth time. I have no idea what will happen. Fists may fly. Tears may be shed. One of us might well scream and throw ourselves out the nearest window. This isn’t quite as bad as it sounds, as we are on the first floor, but still.

It’s weird. I can literally work 10 hours within arm’s reach of them and not notice they’re there. It’s like we all have our own private nerd cocoons. Yet passing them in the hall could someday result in murder. Or at least, a spilled Diet 7-Up.

Cheers,
-Jason