Let me say it again: Her e-mail isn't working.
She has no e-mail. It's not working.
Irritating, isn't it?
Imagine hearing it, I swear to God, SEVENTEEN times. At least. In an hour. With the words rearranged. Or replaced. But the meaning's the same.
My e-mail isn't working.
Not working. I can't get e-mail.
People are sending me e-mail. I'm not getting it.
I have no e-mail.
I have a problem: I have no e-mail.
No e-mail ...
No e-mail ...
No e-mail.
Argh!
In case you haven't guessed, this is a co-worker. She's not in my department, thank God. But I can hear her over the people who are. Not only is she repetitive, she's VERY LOUD. And she talks. Constantly. And laughs. And snickers, in this really silly-sounding pssssssssssss-sss-sss that sounds like she's deflating. Only she's not. Unfortunately.
Our desks are separated by a very thin wall. A doorway leads from one department to another. A doorway -- with no door. Don't recommend that I see management about installing a door. Been there, done that. They want to try "other methods." Insert eyeroll here.
My therapist recommends buying a white-noise machine. I'm not against that, but it really chaps my ass that I have to be out $50-plus when these anemic managers could tell her to Just Shut Up.
They say they've told her to hush. I believe that, but it's doing no good. She's yet to cease and desist. Meanwhile, folks in my department who aren't nearly as loud are repeatedly told to keep it quiet. Insert another eyeroll.
You know what the bad thing is? Other than her annoyingly loud voice, tendency to bug the shit out of me with repetition and that idiotic hissing, I actually like her. (I know! It's like saying, "Other than that unfortunate shooting of your husband, how was the play, Mrs. Lincoln?")
She's friendly. She's good at her job. Unfortunately, she and I work the same hours. And. She. Won't. Shut. Up.
So, until I can spring for the machine, I've found my own version of White noise -- The White Stripes on my iTunes. Their music is the only thing I've found that will drown her out. Know the words to "Icky Thump"? I do.
Rock on, Jack. Bang those drums, Meg. And you on the other side of the wall, SHUT THE HELL UP!
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2 comments:
Being similarly afflicted with an annoying and distracting cubicle mate, I finally resorted to burning a CD to play on my work computer. Flogging Molly and a cheap set of headphones serve nicely to drown out her frequent outbursts, which include cussing. Thing is, she's yelling at a Dictaphone machine; i.e., the doctors whose words she can't understand and who are long gone for the day. >insert eye roll here<
I love Flogging Molly, but they're hard on my arthritic fingers, as I find myself typing faster and faster in time to the beat of the music.
If not for my earbuds, I would have already killed her.
The newest development in the saga was a conversation yesterday between my supervisor and her supervisor. During the conversation, her supervisor revealed that he had been told by the manager to "listen" to see if there is a problem.
Insert eyeroll here.
My supervisor immediately stepped up to the plate and said, "Uhhhh ... There IS a problem. And it needs to be taken care of. Now."
It's been relatively more quiet since, so we'll see. :)
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