Wednesday, February 16, 2011

No thanks, not for me

There's a story going around about a 51-year-old woman who died in her cubicle at work and nobody noticed. For over a DAY.

Is this not one of the more frightening things you’ve ever heard? I mean, who wakes up in the morning and says ‘yepper, today’s the day I’m going to stick it to the head office and make ‘em shell out the 2X accidental death and dismemberment rider on my insurance that I signed up for because I’m going to croak at work!’ Not me, that much is for sure. Shoot, the 2X payout would be sweet, but only for the survivors and I’d just bet that in the majority of the cases the survivors would rather have their family member back than all the bills paid off.

The truly scary thing is that she was only a few years older than me.

I SO need to make a doctor’s visit to see if all systems still pass the pre-flight check.


Yesterday I was in the company of someone who might NOT make it to their 50th bday if they don’t change how they approach the world.

I was driving home, a commute of 25-odd miles that takes about 45 minutes and is largely on 2-lane roads. Passing on these roads is permitted at intervals, but is nearly impossible during rush hours.

That did not stop the gentleman behind me from WANTING to pass so very badly that he felt it necessary to encourage me toward greater speeds by riding the bumper of Tinkerbell so closely I thought momentarily about just slamming on the brakes and teaching his BMW-driving self a lesson. In the rear view mirror I detected him swerving around in the lane, edging left and slapping back right when an oncoming car was spotted. There was honestly nothing I could do, as the line of cars ahead of ME was ½ mile long with no getting around it. It was obvious he wasn’t about to look more than one car ahead of him though, and thus I became a target.

We approached a stoplight at which we were both turning right. I stopped, as is the LAW, and also as common sense dictated because there was a tremendous amount of traffic coming from the left that prevented me from taking advantage of the ol’ right turn on red’ rule. Well folks, this was the nearly final straw in the Beemers basket, and it cause him to literally pound the steering wheel, wave his hand wildly around, around (I can only surmise) shout bad words at me for my unwillingness to put my life in danger so he could move up one car length.

Needless to say, I spent the appreciable remainder of our co-commute doing exactly the speed limit, until such time as he could ROAR around me and the person ahead of me who was also doing the limit.

15 minutes later, as the road widened into 2 lanes each way, I was happy to see him sting at the same stoplight I was. What a wonderful feeling.

Also wonderful is that he turned right, straight down the road that leads to the ‘we’re better than YOU’ developments. Where I’m sure he fits right in.



Currently, I am listening to approximately 6 people all talking at once. Also, 3 people typing, one coffee machine going, a microwave beeping, the printer whirring, and 5 or so people in very clicky heels walking around.

God I hate this cubicle.


And that’s it. I need to go find something worthwhile to do before I get even more stabbity and start putting up ‘think of your colleagues, LOUDMOUTHS!’ signs all over the outside of my cubicle.

I’m also going to print some up for the people who use the meeting room right next to my cube as a chattering place without CLOSING THE DOOR. It has a door, folks – use it!
Hey though – there are free Girl Scout cookies in the break area, so there’s at least one ray of sunshine in this gloomy stupid place.

Tiff out.

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