well you asked.

People at my work feel the need to loudly announce where they are going during the working day. I find this disconcerting. First off, no one cares that you’re going to the bank or the post office. Second, you startled the hell out of me with your noisy announcement and the subsequent choral response from the rest of the office. Honestly, knock it off. I wanted a job, not indoctrination into a cult.

I prefer to duck in and out as unceremoniously as possible. Even when I’m leaving the office at the contractually stipulated time, I can feel everyone’s judgey little eyes on me and would really just prefer everyone pretend it’s not happening. Hiding an extra pair of shoes outside the other door so I can slip out unnoticed is a point I have not stooped to… yet. I’m not sure why, but it always feels a bit devious when I leave my desk, like I’m playing hooky even though what I’m doing outside is far more productive than what I could ever be doing whilst chained to my desk. Except said hooky doesn’t even feel devious in a “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” subversive cool sort of way.
So maybe one of these days I’ll start announcing where I am going too.  “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please. I need to drop a deuce and it’s probably going to be nasty, so I’ll just go use the shitter at the electronics store across the way instead. No, no need to thank me for my courtesy. I’m just that goddamned considerate.”
That would probably end the destination-announcing.


For some reason the cultural norm here is for professional women from young adulthood all the way to upper middle age to speak like Chihuahuas when addressing authority. Specifically male authority, of which most authority round here is of the betesticled variety. So far no one has demanded that I do my best impression of Kyary Pyamu Pyamu auditioning for a porno. Thank fuck for that. But just listening to it… ugh. It elicits this Pavlovian eye-twitch response in me.

It would actually be easier to deal with if my colleagues were a lot of heinous über-bitches, but they aren’t. Honestly, they’re lovely people. So that makes the hypothetical conversation even more ridiculous. “Oh no, no, Yuko. It’s not that I dislike you, far from it. It’s just that I want to rip the phone receiver out of your hand and smack you upside the head with it every time you use it. Nothing personal.”