Friday, November 07, 2003

It's 9:30 am... 

...and it's quiet in the office.

Too quiet.

The type of quiet that seems forbidding, foreboding. A person doesn't want to break that sort of quiet, for fear of bringing the wrath of the gods of silence upon her head.

A co-worker sits in front of me, chafing against the still air. She turns to me, pale skin, fair hair, a young, sweet, innocent visage that hides a love of Buffy and a particularly wicked sense of humor. It's no wonder we've started clicking.

She whispers to me, her gently Southern voice lilting, "It's too quiet."

I nod in response.

"It's like a library," she says, "only not as fun."

I smile and shrug, not sure how to answer her, not entirely awake enough to formulate a witty riposte. Our conversation remains a whispering one, just barely loud enough to hear each other.

"It's the end of the week. I think people are just tired," I say. "They'll wake up after the lunch. Eating the free food and considering the weekend plans will make everyone more lively."

She nods sagely, turns back to her work. After a few minutes she spins to face me again.

"I just want to throw things," she whispers.

I start to say something, but another co-worker stands near the laser printer in front of SouthernGirl's cube, noticing our whispers, a look of confusion on his face. He's a fun co-worker, so my response mentions him. I tilt my head in his direction, smiling mischievously.

"Well, I heard that BandBooker was..." I realize that any fun that might be generated by acting as if we were talking about him is negated by the fact that he can't hear me. He still seems to know something is up, perhaps my sly grin giving a hint, and he hurries away.

SouthernGirl turns to around in time to notice him rushing away, and jumps up, her smile even more mischievous than mine. "I'm going to cause trouble!" she says perkily, following BandBooker.

I turn back to my work and continue a totally non-work related e-mail exchange with a couple of other people.

A little while later SouthernGirl returns to her desk, works a bit more, then sends me an e-mail, stating it is still too quiet and that she may need massive amounts of simulants to get through the day. I respond that I feel like that pretty much everyday. I offer to play my Red Hot Chili Peppers on my CD player sans headphones. She exhorts me to blast it.

I'm too timid to do so, my innate fear of breaking the heavy silence pushing itself forward. SouthernGirl and I have a little e-mail conversation about my timidity while I continue the other e-mail exchange. But I play the music, a little of the quiet displaced.

Some time later the quiet is shattered by the annoying voice of IdiotBoss carrying from his office (the one he stole from ExBossGuy and don't think I'm still not bitter over that) over the cubicle walls, crashing obnoxiously on my ear drums. I turn up the music a little, bury my head in my work and wish for the unsettling silence again.

I've got to think of a fun way to liven things up.

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Carol/Female/36-40. Lives in United States/California/Los Angeles/San Fernando Valley, speaks English. Spends 40% of daytime online. Uses a Normal (56k) connection.
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