Today we bring you another episode of
Tales of the Co-workers
Well, hmm, no, come to think of it, there haven't been any previous episodes, but let's not get bogged down in these trifling details. We have a trifling story to tell today and trifling details could easily damage its delicate fabric.
In today's story I am sitting at the phones station of my library, engaged in... pursuits, very important pursuits, some of which are not necessarily not work related. A co-worker who I will call Maureen, but who I think of as "Mo", approaches for a chat.
Mo rates a three out of ten on the chatometer.
What is the chatometer?
I'm glad you asked because I just invented it. It is a measure of how much I might like to chat with a given person. Three out of ten might mean "A little, but not much", or it might mean I am willing to chat for three minutes before I really want to stop chatting. Or it might mean both.
After three minutes Mo is not close to going away. This is a common characteristic of a person who rates a three out of ten on the chatometer. I politely soldier on, trying to give those subtle hints that it's time for her to move along. The hints don't take. Three minutes quickly become ten, and then those ten, fifteen. I can't shake her. So I finally say something about needing to get to work.
"Well they don't pay us to chat." Mo says.
This touches on one of my themes, and I can't resist saying "Sure they do. I think they pay us to chat, have a coffee, work, stay informed, read, socialize with the patrons..."
"I know you do." Mo says pointedly. Then, completely without irony or self knowledge, she adds "I just come in and work. I'm a worker. I come, work my time, and leave."
It is another seven minutes before I can induce her to leave. I counted.