Why Do You Want Me to Know Your Whole Life: An Ode to my Office Hall Mate (Nothing Ever Gets Done by Being a Whiny Impotent Fuck)

Disclaimer: In case you couldn’t tell by now, I have a hard time deciding on one title, so I go with multiple titles.

I know every last detail of my coworker’s life. I know all about his kids, how they do in school, what after-school activities they participate in, and when they do or don’t show up to school. I also know about his tenants, when the plumber is supposed to arrive, the woes of trying to sell his house, when his wife is out of town, etc., etc., etc. From everything I know about this person, you would think that we’re really close friends. On the contrary, I have had direct conversation with him for an approximate total of 3.5 minutes in the 12 years I’ve worked here. All of this information I gleaned from very loud open door phone calls, which is how he spends most of his day.

Over the years, I have asked him many times to please shut the door when he’s on the phone. I finally got him to shut the door when he’s using the speaker phone at least…and that’s mostly because I physically went to his office and shut the door for him (my literal hall monitoring skills in action–it’s not just a moniker). I just don’t understand why he wants me and the whole hallway to know everything about his life. I know I’m not the only one who has spoken to him about his loud phone habits, so he is well aware that others can hear him. Yet he continues. Is this a weird exhibitionist thing, like an emotional trench coat flasher?

What adds to the infuriation is that he is the whiniest mother fucker I’ve ever heard! (Does this blog have audio, because I do a mean impression of his impotent whiny fucking voice? That technology may be beyond my capabilities.) I use the term “impotent” a lot, not about sexuality at all, but about someone’s inability to act. In all of these overheard conversations about his personal issues, I have never heard him make an actual direct statement; I think he only speaks in whiny, passive-aggressive bullshit.

Here’s my rule: if you’re on the phone, shut the fucking door. Invading my ear space is still invading my space.


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