It's not like I've never worked in an office. I've spent plenty of time pecking away at keyboards, zoning out chatter and scouring google for obscure information. But for some reason, this office feels different. It feels like The Office.
There are some personalities in this office, and it's not exactly corralled into cubicles. Every chip crunched. Every frustrated fuck word mumbled. Every trill laugh. I hear it all.
And for those who know me, they know I can't tune things out: sounds seep into my ears with little or no permission, invading my innermost thoughts. So I hear it all, and I listen to it all. And actually, it's quite entertaining.
When I hear the guy in sales talking about wristwatches or advertorials in his cool, slow, voice I can't help but think about Oscar. And when I get a glimpse of the tired eyes, pleading to be fresh and appealing again, of the woman pounding fists with the tall, forever-in-a-suit co-worker behind her, I see a flicker of Marjorie.
Who knows who will pop up next, keeping me stimulated while I look up the square footage of a yacht, or the correct spelling of a name.
Who will be Michael Scott?
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