Somewhere Else

I don't think I can be considered a "worker" anymore. All morning I have been dreaming of being somewhere else. Primarily, I wish to be nesting on my couch in my stale pajama pants, under the quilt with the smelling-like-corn-chips wiener dog, occasionally slipping in and out of consciousness only to eat a few more crackers and enjoy midday reruns of Hogan's Heroes and The Cosby Show. The day is obviously not passing in such a fashion, as I am currently at my desk and embroiled in an internal struggle as to what cheese-flavored snack to enjoy next. Cheetos? Doritos? Cheese Nips? Cheddar and Herb Kettle Chips? God, I implore you! Make it easy on me and remove my options!

So, my new soft-in-the-middle job has made me question my work ethic once again. I just wonder where my motivation lies. I've flirted with motivation and dedication and drive and obligation and focus before. Really, I have. The last time, for instance, was when I was working on a political campaign this past fall. I could work a 15 hour day, mostly standing up, with a to-go cup of coffee that became fused to my left hand, and feel like I never ran out of energy. Now that I am back in the cubicled womb of white noise and close quarters, I become extremely impatient when having to wait two or three minutes for my "scheduled" break, i.e. my 15 minute federally mandated cigarette/bathroom break (which I observe religiously). Today, I was suiting up for said break and realized that I left my little yellow box of 20 friends at home on the kitchen counter. I don't need to tell you about the miniature panic that followed. This meant that I had to find a store within walking distance to buy some more. After I found one, I bought some. Then I walked back to my usual spot (outside the building where I work) to stave off the demon inside. It's a funny spot to visit each day as it is adjacent to a high school athletic field, which fills me with residual dread but I find it very entertaining to watch the Juicy-butt suited Olympic hopefuls while I suck on a cigarette and try to prevent my pants from cutting off the circulation in my legs. So, I am standing there by the building, enjoying my cigarette and employing my thousand-yard stare to quell interactions with passersby, when a person encroaches my Safety Circle.

Person: Hey. You got a cigarette for me?

Me: Nope, sorry.

Person: Smoke somewhere else then. Jeeeeeez!

Smoke somewhere else? In order that I don't tempt you, miscellaneous person? I don't get it. You know, sometimes when I have these nonsensical and random interactions with people, I almost wonder if the questions are tricks and if I don't answer correctly that I will become the victim of a "What's the Frequency, Kenneth?" style beatdown.

But, back to work. This led me to think about some things I would like to tell other people to do "somewhere else" in order to avoid tempting me into participation. These are actually activities I have been involuntarily drawn into mutual enjoyment with others while at work:

-clipping fingernails

-clipping toenails (picking at feet, generally)

-gargling in the work kitchen

-butt scratching while ascending a staircase (readjusting, generally)

-bonafide nosepicking

-"working" things out of lungs and/or throats

-eating sardines when others are present (never acceptable)

-pants-zipping and belt-buckling on the way out of the bathroom

-a litany of pooping and/or farting combinations in many areas, even including the bathroom

I think the lesson here is that there really are people everywhere, and sometimes there just isn't a "somewhere else" to do something. But there usually is. Really. Later today, I'm going to try smoking while standing on the other side of the building.