Thursday, June 03, 2010

:: Lunch lady ::

Recently, my company reshuffled some of its operations, which meant we got a few employees in our office. 

One of them, a woman in her mid-40s, we all know, as she worked out of our office a few years ago. She's a great person – very bubbly, funny, and we all like her, and are happy to have her here. Trouble is, turns out she's a "lunch talker." And I don't mean that in a "she talks to you when you're both sitting in the lunchroom" kind of way, which of course, is perfectly normal.

No, she is a "lunch talker" because she just simply cannot walk past a person eating something without commenting on it. I guess that actually makes her a "lunch commenter" or a "lunch observer" but whatever. You get the point. 

"Mmmm... that looks good."

"Salad, eh? 

"Is it lunch already?

Aside from answering 'Yes' to all three of those queries, what else can you really say? It's just a case of someone wanting to make conversation for the sake of it, or because they just love the sound of their own voice, or both. 

And it's even more of a pain in the ass for me because at least three out of five weekdays, the desk at which I sit is directly in her path. I could probably avoid it if I chose to go hide in the lunch room, but don't even get me started on the conversations I'd be subjected in there*.

(*How bad is the lunchroom? If I have to do any prep-work or microwaving of my lunch – anything that will keep me in there longer than the two seconds it takes to grab it from the fridge and go – I wait until every last soul is out of there. That's how serious I am about avoiding this inane, uninteresting conversations. And if that means I have to wait until 2:30 to eat my lunch, so be it.)

So yeah, I'm in a bit of a pickle here. I'm gonna have to start eating lunch in my car.

Doors locked.

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