Both owners are away, the manager has been at a training session for a new site all day, and the inmates are beyond running the asylum. Radios up so loud that I have turned my music off because it is not worth trying to compete, extremely loud declarations of all sorts, like "I know THAT'S right!" and "You got JOKES!" (who these statements are directed at is beyond my limited scope of knowledge since I am keeping my face straight ahead in my cubicle and not turning around for ANYTHING). Plenty of walking around, and a number of exclamations of exasperation regarding everyday work tasks that are suddenly so cumbersome that they must be addressed to the world (I know for a fact that Moms Mabley "Ain't doin' no more appeals!" - quoted verbatim - and Doo Wop has decided to regale everyone within the sound of her voice - a voice that can cut through the din so effectively that she could be used as the Emergency Broadcast Signal - all about Jill Scott's weight loss and whatever else is happening in the world of celebrity gossip. Not to mention the Nigerian Nightmare's singing what-the-fuck-ever song she is singing - off key and thick accent equals profit? - and you have the general idea).
I am going to start keeping a bottle of scotch in my desk drawer for days like this.
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