An Open Letter

Dear Lady on the Other Side of the Cube Wall,

Thank you for blaring country music all day at work just loud enough so I can hear it, but not decipher the artist or song. Because of your inability  to properly interpret “appropriate volume levels,” I now hear phantom twang and fiddles everywhere I go. To the point, I “turned off” my kitchen radio before I realized it wasn’t even on.

I do not mean to hate on country music, I am foremost a fan and a secondly a Southerner, but I think most would agree the listening to squeaky fiddles and nasal voices for eight hours continuously ranks somewhere underneath water boarding, but above sleep deprivation. In other words, it is the torture choice of the mundane.

Secondly, I try real hard not to eavesdrop honey, but surely you realize a cubicle wall provides about as much privacy as a paper gown during a gynecological exam. I’m going hear and see things that the Good Lord never intended me to witness. So if you could reserve your family drama for the lunch hour, or at least my lunch hour, my gratitude would surpass the twitching caused by the incessant fiddles. (Make them stop, please!)

Also, you could be a little nicer. I sometimes wonder if your head has been replaced by a spitting cobra the way you hiss on the phone at presumably your family – surely no one would choose to endure your behavior . I try to pray for you (for both of us really) because, much to my unintended efforts, I have come to learn that you have a loved one who is ill and perhaps that is the source of your stress and hatefulness.

Until I run into you in the bathroom ,or the hallway, or some other common area, and attempt to engage the simple pleasantries, much like the ones your radio station sings about. This is almost always met with warmth of a thousand deadly icicles.  I am trying here sweetie, so please work with me and give me something. An awkward smile, a blank stare, something a little less frightening than your impersonation of Kathy Bates from Misery.

Again, I know you are under stress. So I will continue to pray for you.

I just might pray for me more.

Love,

Peaches

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1 Comment

Filed under A Day In The Life, the drama queen, wtf mate

One response to “An Open Letter

  1. Brittany

    Hilarious, yet poignant as well.

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