I forgot, until talking to Jim Droste yesterday afternoon, that the kids would be gone from campus today. Totally forgot what the holiday schedule is like, even though I was here last year, etc.
So whatever, right?
But yeah, there are precious few things happening around here, and the hot topic of convo in the office is What People Are Doing to Gear Up for the Holiday Season. I honestly don’t care that much.
Right now our assoc director is showing photos of his new granddaughter. I noticed that he did skip my cube on his tour, but that doesn’t bother me too much. Maybe he’ll be back.*
I’m not very good at the office-social interactions, unless they center around sports or weather. Those are topics that I have no problem talking about. I can recite some of the things I read in the paper this morning about how Marquette upset Duke, and I can successfully comment on how the atmosphere is unseasonably warm.
If you want a comment on a baby, though, it will probably be something like, “Yes, that is a baby. Small. Cute. Baby-like.”
It’s not that I don’t care, it’s just that I don’t know what else you want me to say. It’s not my baby, so, I dunno, shit—it’s like any other baby to me. Kind of the same as like when the women in the office ask how things are going with Michelle, or something similar. My response is, “They’re great. I’m happy. I think she is too. No, we’re not getting married yet.”
Again, not a case where things aren’t fantastic, but why the hell should I talk to you about this when I’m at work. And it’s not like we’re best buds or whatever, so what reason is there for me to share anything (relatively) intimate about my personal life? The way I think of it, I don’t particularly care (beyond a natural humanitarian way) about your personal life, so why the hell should you care about mine?
The births and the deaths affecting co-workers are the toughest times for this attitude. Because, I mean, you have to say *something* at those times. But if I we don’t know each other that well, what else can I say except, “Yes– baby,” and “Sorry– death.”
Odds are probably good that I’ll be back tomorrow, at least briefly, but if not, have a nice Thanksgiving…
*As I was writing this, he stopped in with the photos and a very similar comment: “Here are the photos, I don’t expect you to be that excited.”