Life in Cubicleland

I started my new (temporary) legal-y job today, and it didn't take long for me to remember exactly why life in cubicleland sucks so very much. In the eight or so years since I last worked in a cubicle, I've apparently lost the critical ability to block out the sounds of the people around me. My neighbor entertained me most of the morning and into the afternoon.

10:30-- She picked up the phone and called someone, starting the conversation with "Hi! I just needed to talk to you about two things real quick." She then mentioned the two things, and then launched into a very long monologue about diets, the diet that she's on, the woes of being fat, how she's getting too old to keep dieting, how much she hates not being able to eat whatever she wants, and how she's certain that the reason she gained the weight back after her last diet was because she didn't ease back into eating "normal people food".

11:00-- The phone rings, she answers, and listens for a minute before launching into what has turned into a much more... engaging topic. "How much? Well, hang on." (Much rustling in a bag.) "Well, I've got my Advair right here, and it says 100/50 on it. I think your dosage is too high." (More rustling.) "Listen to this." (Starts reading aloud from the package insert, pausing every 30 or 40 seconds to inform the listener(s) that she "can't read that word".) "I think you're taking too high a dosage. You should call the doctor. Ask him about it. You're probably taking too high a dosage. I'd make sure to call the doctor and ask him if you're taking too high a dosage." Lather, rinse, repeat. Eventually, she hung up, but that didn't end the topic, oh no! For the rest of the day, I was treated to a repeat, including several additional read-throughs of the package insert as she told everyone about how she was sure that her sister was on too high a dosage of Advair.

Tomorrow, I am totally going to remember to bring my mp3 player.