Trading carrots for chocolate pudding since 2012.
I’ve been thinking a lot about “workplace etiquette” lately. Not even about dress code, staying organized, teamwork, or things like that. I’m thinking that some people don’t realize that they’re actually at work.
Yesterday, a woman interrupted a conversation I was having with someone to show us pictures of her cats. She’s an older woman, so yes, I can tolerate a few fun photos of her little pal. It’s even better if they’re awesome action shots or pictures of them doing people things, like science. You bet your ass I want to see that.
However, instead of action or science, we were handed a photo album. Let me say that again. A PHOTO ALBUM. OF HER CATS.
I said I could feign interest in a few pictures because obviously they are important to her, I understand that. There is no possible way I could muster up the energy to sit quietly through an entire scrapbook photo album of cats just sitting around a house.
Please don’t think I’m a jerk, because this thing was a good 4 inches thick (that’s what she sa…she never said that). It was decorated and bound with pride. This woman was serious.
The workplace etiquette thing comes into play because the conversation I was having, that this woman interrupted, was about something very important for work and she just kind of barged into the middle. Then she got caught off guard when I said that I didn’t have time and needed to get what I was doing done. I think she may have been offended.
There’s a reason I talk about work when I’m at work. Because I’m at work. If I cared about cats, I would own a cat. Don’t get offended when I respectfully say I can’t fit you and/or your outside interests into my schedule. I expected to be captivated by your enormous photo album, but your cat didn’t deliver. I’m sorry.
Cats are such assholes.