I now know the most intimate details of the 60-year-old Catholic, Goes-to-Mass-every-Sunday-but-somehow-knows-when-Mercury-is-in-retrograde, had-a-hysterectomy-when-she-was-50, allergic to tree nuts, nurse's life who sits on the other side of the cube divider from me.
That includes where she lives, the details of each and every commute, every medication she's taking, where she goes to purchase those meds, every doctor appointment, the never-ending medical problems with her aging dog—that she flat out refuses to put down no matter what it ends up costing her—and of course, every. little. thing. her impossibly adorable grandchildren do.
She doesn't get along with her brother, and has berated him at length for having bought their mother a complicated, flat panel television last Christmas that the mother is forever screwing up and calling her to fix.
And she giggles. Constantly. Like a teenager. She doesn't work for us; she works for our parent company, so I didn't have any interaction with her when she came on board and had no idea what she even looked like for weeks. In fact, before I actually saw her, I thought they'd hired a co-ed fresh out of nursing school. Imagine my surprise when I heard her say she was 60.
The only thing I don't know is whether or not she swallows, but I'm sure it's only a matter of time until that bit of unwelcome knowledge is forced upon me as well.
Did I mention a day doesn't go by where she's not on the phone to HER Help Desk for some incredibly stupid issue?
All I can say is thank the FSM I don't have to support this woman. AND for headphones. Most definitely for headphones.
I feel your pain. My Glenn, ex IT manager, lived this hell for 26 yrs.
FSM, LOL!!